There were more dire things to focus on when he heard word that the war--the real war--would begin within months. A slight chance existed that the Emperor would concede the throne, but the more they kept to the tone about the Prince's "frail nature," the more the Emperor was emboldened to act. He heard about an assassination attempt made on his empire's Empress. To his knowledge, the woman survived but was in poor health.
The Prince didn't have much time to waste now.
Much of these inner political leanings were frustrating to Beckett because he still didn't quite understand why the Prince was upset with his missives. But the state of a royal family is different. The maiden family was a separate monolith from the prominent royal family, and depending on your ancestral lines, there was even a line of power in there to struggle against.
For the typical noble family, your family was the entire family, and he thought, then, as Julianna brought Keaton's, now walking, toddling form to visit him, that there was indeed a problem. The child chased back and forth a leather ball the Commander had made for the recruits to train with.
"Keaton's designation is much clearer now," Julianna said with a contrite tone that reminded Beckett that had she known, everything would be so different now. She drank the tea offered and bit into the pastries by her chaise. "It was a--they said it was a rare case of mistaken diagnosis. They're not supposed to--they can't tell that early on, but now that he's five years old, well, they know he's going to be an alpha."
"Did Amina respond to your missives?"
"No."
Beckett furrowed his brows at that. His sister was always prompt in her responses. Of the main issues in his marriage, legitimacy and his sister's support were the primary concerns. Without her support, any connections made in the empire during his time as a recruit would be washed. His father's execution was worse. Any of their weak and recent connections broke off easily, but in the long term, the business associates still worked with them, as long as the Emperor didn't make a move forward. But if they heard of Amina's disagreement? Her backing with the French name would muddle the waters and break more bridges.
His headache only increased at the thought of when the Emperor found out his connection to the Prince. For right now, the actual location and support of the Prince was an open secret, but no one was willing to approach it. In terms of strategy, it all depended on three points: Maximus French, the leaders of the Church, and the royal factions. Still, those were the things Enzo handled.
"I wrote what you told me to say," Julianna lightly said. "But I don't think she liked me and Sarai together. Me and you is even worse--unless."
Beckett gave an incredulous laugh. "What words are you about to speak?"
"You--you simply tell her the truth," Julianna motioned to his belly. "A royal heir and all."
"They won't be a royal anything," Beckett replied. "And you'd best not bring this up again."
Julianna raised her hands placatingly and said, "A royal paramour will sound better to your sister than being married to me."
The room was sparse but large. It was the Prince's idea to have a large room for dining in the evening, tea in the day, breakfast in the morning, and, when there are children, room for the children to wander in boredom.
For now, there were only the square settees, a few chaise lounges with tables, a long dining table to the back of the room, and the designs of a Carolingian noble household on the walls covered in sienna burgundy and malachite green.
Julianna pointed it out, "Your colors, although natural and somewhat bright, are--atypical."
"The other colors, as I've told the Prince, can lead to infertility, even miscarriage," he said, remembering all the things he had read over the years when he was married. His memory stumbled over those years like a reopened wound. "There are more bright colors that can be used later, but I'll have to ship them from Zhuong, which isn't doable now. When the Prince is bored, he might even test around the plant dyes and minerals to see which are safest or if they can be repurposed."
The other omega was quiet even as Keaton's pitter-pattering and giggling filled the room.
"You're happier trapped in this place than I've ever seen you free anywhere else over the years," Julianna sighed. She laid down her cup and continued, "I know you're not technically an alpha any longer, but this truly doesn't bother you? I don't even know if I could handle a burden this heavy."
Beckett's mouth twitched. He said, "Maybe it's because I don't see it as a burden."
"You trust the Prince to help regain the family's status, but the royal family can't be trusted," Julianna lowered her voice, and her eyes flitted over the servants. "The one thing about all these Emperors in every generation is their need to cut down the noble houses and weaken the rest right at the knees and then the torso. At best, they'll leave the head and the arms, but that's only a temporary state. Everything will have to go. Just so they never come close to the royal family. I don't know how to tell you, but a mistress giving birth to a bastard is up there on the list."
He lifted his own cooled, nearly cold, tea and sipped from it as his eyes peered over the edge at Julianna's fidgeting. He said, after a drawn-out sip, "I never knew you felt that way about the royal family."
"It's not about whether the Emperor likes or cares. Let me tell you something I have kept to myself," Julianna said, "My family, the Gonzaga, were never noble or powerful, but they were decent landlords. They paid their taxes. Sent their harvests. They did their job," Julianna scoffed. "What did they get in return? Their lands were confiscated, and they were blamed for spreading the plague, as were many other farmers and landlords. Punished by the law that has no eyes for justice. Why? Because the Emperor and his council could never figure out what caused it or how it spread. They needed someone to blame, so they did. It's not fair, is it?"
"No, it's certainly not," Beckett said and then sipped again. "Would you like those lands returned?"
Julianna frowned. "It would be a political nightmare. Unraveling what happened with the plague is already a bygone question that will be buried with the dead. There's no point in wondering and digging it up again."
Beckett slowly nodded, but the question arose in his mind. "I thought it was from the cow manure?"
"No, various farmers tend to share manure, especially in trusting communities," Julianna added. "There were farmers who used the same manure on the same day where no one got sick. And this happened all over to most of the farmers."
He tried to recall his hazy memory of the time, but all that consumed him back then was joining the army and proving to his father that he could uphold the Berman family name.
It was a question he had a feeling the Prince should have an answer for, and if he didn't, Enzo should poke around to find out.
The door behind them opened, and he heard, "So someone is here.". The voice was sharp and caustic enough to burn. "It's good that you are. Finally. And without an appropriate invite, even."
Beckett stood up, smoothing his free-flowing, twisting garments before approaching Enzo's dour face. He asked him, "Are you well?" but their eyes shared a look, one between friends who have known each other for years, and he read that Enzo was mainly fine.
Enzo typically wore a casual version of the general's regalia, just as Beckett had seen him last. Now, the man was wearing similar clothing to the Prince's, with elaborate, flowing silk, and Beckett could tell why.
His belly was distended outward, like a very rounded oval, at only somewhat about the half-year mark. Above Enzo's shoulder, he could see the knotted tie of the white-clothed sling he often saw pregnant omegas wear throughout the pregnancy to help carry the belly weight.
Even then, his face was clear, flush with energy, as he said, "You, Julianna, and Keaton need to follow me. I need to map out your announcements. And I do have other things I need to finish by the end of today's day. With haste, please, and follow me."
Julianna called out Keaton, who rushed over and clung to her leg as she asked, "When will it be announced?"
"It will be one of the many announcements Akhutenan will be bringing with him to the mainland."
Servants opened the doors leading through the corridors, with guards at every other entrance watching whoever entered and escaped the doorways. The winding corridors opened up into the area of the underground that Beckett had yet to see. Bogged down by paperwork, missives, accounts, and political information, Enzo was often only seen once, if twice, over the past few months.
The trusted servants he brought over were those who were his close confidantes in the Casas Mansion before he was a recruit. All his pay and inheritance went towards their salary over the years. They were no less grateful to be hired under him again.
A few of them had also disappeared, and Beckett hoped they were on errand rather than they made the erroneous action of getting on Enzo's bad side.
"The day before Akhutenan ships off to the Carolingian Empire, he will take some of our people with him," Enzo said as he continued to walk through his main hall into his living residence that was designed much like a mansion, but the windows were openings from above rather than the side. Water tunnels winded around these rooms underneath the openings, and drips of water fell through as he imagined it rained earlier today. "He will be important in the stationing of our battalions in the future, among other things."
His eyes flitted over Julianna before turning to him. "How well are you?"
"You didn't even answer my question."
Enzo's mouth twitched into a grin. "Outside of the obvious, I'm truly enjoying myself. The Carolingian Empire and all its people are--there's no word I can say that humanizes them well enough. They're complex and twisting. It's exciting."
A servant entered the room with paperwork, and Beckett waved them forward before handing the stack to Julianna, whose confused expression jumped between the two.
"You'll need to fill out your information, background, secrets, no matter how undesirable, and even what you told me about the Gonzaga's. Draw the coat of arms, even if you can," Beckett said, as he remembered Enzo asked him before, and then waved another servant to them. "Please lead her and young Master Keaton here to a room with a comfortable table and chair to write on. Give her fresh ink and a pen, as well."
The two other figures and the maid whisked out of the room, leaving Beckett and Enzo in Enzo's library and lounge.
Elaborately carved crystal spun with gold wires, gems, and glass cradled the books on wooden shelves with more chaise lounges and furnished seating with thick pillows filled with feathers. Enzo had a few of his servants posted at the walls so that when the Casas tried sitting, they broke away from position.
Beckett snapped a look at them to hurry it up. They took either side of him and helped him settle. It must've been helpful because Enzo didn't say a word to stop them. He only told them to leave right after.
"We're going to have to have that discussion, I hope you know," Enzo said and then closed his eyes as he slid comfortably along the pillows on the chaise lounge. His hands briefly brushed his belly before he sighed and then turned to him. "You heard what Julianna said."
Beckett felt his lips unfurl before he said, "You knew, and for how long?"
"A year," Enzo said. "It wasn't my business to get involved, and, in truth, her lie wasn't dangerous or mean. At the time, I thought it would be a fun surprise for both of you. But now, it changes things. Things are different. And then there's the missive you sent."
He settled on the couch beside Enzo and said, "Things like this are not new to history. Our present-day Emperor is not even a bold mark on the paper when it comes to usurpation and illegitimate heirs pushed to the throne."
"You used my name to help Erich Castro," Enzo started and then hummed thoughtfully. "It was a benefit to our side, greatly. But you told the Prince that it was our idea."
"He came to that idea on his own," Beckett said, but from Enzo's angled face and closed eyes, he couldn't tell whether the other was angry at his decision. "I--he's been worried about his sister and fatherhood. His brother taking the throne when we could've changed his--"
"But who allowed you to make such a maneuver?"
Beckett raised his eyes, and Enzo's sharp peripherals eyed him before turning away.
"No one."
"I know the Prince was furious but also consoled," Enzo sighed. "I won't blame you for this mistake, but you were the one who said you wanted a simple life, a simple marriage, and a simple family. Do stay out of the royal family's politics."
He opened his mouth but said nothing. The admonishing tone was sharper than his voice was earlier, and as he spoke, "I apologize. I transgressed." Enzo motioned to move but winced, and Beckett lunged forward with his hands hovering over his form before Enzo snatched his arm, carefully pulling him to settle beside him with the two shoulder to shoulder.
"I'm not upset with you, but," Enzo complained and then lowered his voice. "You truly overstepped. Maximus is now leery of Akhutenan's intentions right before reaching the Carolingian capital; that's poor timing. Erich Castro would've never trusted those who killed his lover and child. His despondence would've been in our favor, but now he's emboldened to act. He's confident. Once again, not in our favor. The Romeos--"
"I understand," Beckett pursed his lips and frowned. "I was wrong."
"Beckett, we are now an actual family of connecting branches," Enzo's grip tightened, and then he stared into his eyes fiercely. "We cannot be wrong. One false move is everyone we love and care for is dead. When we take actions such as this, ministers, allies, and others need to be informed about the reasons behind our plan changes. And all I have to tell them is that a friend transgressed. Does that sound good enough of a reason to you?"
"No."
The brown-haired man went through his robes and pulled out a bound book entitled Forgotten Ancient Noble Families. "The children bore between you and the Prince will be added to one of these family lines. Choose one that sounds unfamiliar to any of our historical education but is related directly to the royal family. Now, you don't have to worry about a line of succession between Keaton or the Prince's child."
"You're going to acknowledge--"
"No, not anytime soon, but I'm sure in the future," Enzo added before shoving the book at him. "Someone will figure it out far, far into the future, maybe long after we're dead. But now you no longer owe Sarai, and I no longer owe you. Keaton will be the Berman heir. And you will have your dedicated lineage, your family, as we all are now with our knots untied. We do this because of shared successes as well as shared failures."
Beckett could tell by Enzo's posture that the twins were a heavy burden on him. With Enzo's loose grip, he took the book, laying it on the nearest end table; he slid back and pressed with his thumbs, massaging his back.
It must have been frustrating to have to deal with Beckett's mess amid his other situations.
His hands, with a mind of their own, stretched over his taut belly while the other gripped his chest. The mounds were heavy in his hand as he began kneading, and the soldier leaned back in Beckett's hold, spreading his legs as Beckett merely petted and stroked his body. His hands lazily loosened the garment, displaying his rounded body for him to see. Light blue veins had appeared around his stomach. His other hand began kneading Enzo's other mound. He shifted the other man on his knees, which Enzo did with ease, still comforted by the plush chaise under his hips, lifting Enzo's arms as he stretched his back. His fingers lightly pinched circular motions on his arm in a way he remembered Sarai doing for Julianna.
He noted the angle of his folded legs, hips, and belly, like a temple priest praying to the heavens, with his wavy hair falling over his nape. It made sense what the Prince said last night if he looked anywhere near this.
But Enzo had always been pretty.
"And here I thought you had better posture than me."
"I do."
"It doesn't look like it."
Reddened marks from laying in uncomfortable positions for extended periods on those wooden desks imprinted on his elbows and fingers.
"I've been busy convincing some of the Prince's factions, those related to his mother, that the Prince needs investments, weapons, armor, etc. One army doesn't make for a successful war, but if we can create chokeholds and disperse the Emperor's factions piece by piece, we won't have to worry."
"No dinners, though," Beckett questioned. "Those used to be your favorite."
"Dinners are where you can get all the intrigue and betrayals," Enzo groaned as the other man's fingers trailed down between his shoulder blades. "Did you know old man Villareal sold his son?"
"To who?"
"I don't know yet, but from what I heard, it related to the church and unpaid debts. The unpaid debts were particularly interesting. We can do enough with that alone. Then there's Lord Benali--"
"The builder?"
"The royal landscaper's son," Enzo paused. "I'm not sure what they did with that wealth, but he's selling his son too. A similar debt. It appears that many landlords in those areas have debt to the Church. I found out that he's selling his son here. There can be some hints if I poke at the boy's mind."
"Fathers can be cruel."
"It appears that way."
Beckett's hands found their way back to Enzo's chest and began fondling his nipples again until he heard Enzo's muffled voice.
Enzo groaned but didn't say a word until he said, "Don't--don't let me stain the chair."
"Sensitive?"
"Greatly."
He tucked his body against Enzo's and then as a shudder shook through Enzo, grasped his cock, squeezing and massaging the length, aiming his cum on the stone flooring before pressing a kiss against his temple.
Enzo paused but still twisted around and caught his lips, teasing between them before his mouth opened up. His hands grappled for his chest but slipped and found underneath his belly. Enzo was already hard again.
"The Prince has been ignoring you, hasn't he?"
"He's been ignoring you too."
"Until last night. What happened?"
Enzo scoffed with only a glance at him over his shoulder. "I told him that for an alpha that can knock up another alpha, he seems incapable of making an actual decision."
He winced as he thought about the odd trial and wording of his conversation with the Prince that previous night. It was as though he were both guilty and furious--blaming the Emperor for both. His hands tucked behind Enzo as he pressed him as close as their bellies allowed, and they continued to whisper.
"What decision?"
"The kind of decision he's going to have to make," Enzo said it intensely and glared at the wall like it was an invisible figure. "Or he won't get the throne."
"You want him to kill the Emperor," Beckett realized then. "With his own hands. Not just a coup or forced abdication."
"He has to," Enzo said pointedly. "I didn't agree with Sonhrai only to appease them but because they were right. If he doesn't kill him, someone else will ravage the rewards. The Emperor, if he survived, would build factions who would hunt our children down, our siblings, our nieces and nephews, until they're all dead. It's not just about the Prince's feelings anymore. The Emperor doesn't deserve pity."
"I know, but he's his father," Beckett replied and then grabbed each side of Enzo's haphazardly worn vestment as the man tried to move off the couch. "You didn't even bother to be sneaky about it."
"Some things he needs to just wake up to," Enzo huffed before giving up, trying to break out of Beckett's grip. "I'm not going to treat him like a child."
Beckett furrowed his brows and sighed. "You catch more bees with honey."
"For him?" Enzo snapped. "I'm not going to sugarcoat my language."
"But Enzo," Beckett pointed out, "you like him."
Enzo opened his mouth and then huffed. "Politics and affection are two different things."
"You're the Emperor's consort. You need to make it one thing."
"I can't," Enzo exhaled sharply and turned away. "He imprisoned us in our bodies. Benefits notwithstanding, don't erase that. You and I both know someone in the royal family is the one who sent Sarai to her death. Even Julianna knows not to trust them, but you--?"
The two shared a look, one of frustration and the other of resignation.
He had this conversation with Enzo in the past.
The reopening of Cordero Brothel in the future must've brought his memories back. Enzo likely knew from reading his letters that he was involved.
Although feeling heat bottleneck in his chest, he exhaled slowly.
"You're going to have to come to terms with Sarai's death. That comes with the reminder that Julianna was not a part of that," Beckett said, tightening his hug and lowering his arms as his reddened marks started to darken and then lighten. "She's innocent. While you were more than a little ill-mannered earlier."
Enzo huffed but didn't argue.
"Our conversation has always been," Beckett added, "that the alpha who killed her was a stranger. Only Wuhayb and I know differently, but that doesn't mean you can't speak with the Prince--"
"No," Enzo snapped. "Besides, I would rather sound insane than admit--"
Beckett sighed. "You always say this, but I was there too. The alpha was jealous."
"An alpha would never be openly jealous of another alpha because of an alpha."
"You are rather pretty."
Enzo hissed, "It was a way to set us all up against each other in one single move. Maximus blames us for his favorite alpha daughter's death. The Berman blame the Casas for being too liberal in their associations. And the Casas will refute claims against their character."
"And who would do such a thing?" Beckett said. "The Church? The Emperor? There was no division and civil strife like there is now."
"Then you were blind."
He had known Enzo for most of their lifetime. And the consistent, repetitive thing about the other man isn't only his stubbornness but the way he brushed away any of Beckett's concerns.
It was--disheartening.
"Fine, I was blind," Beckett retorted. "Do you feel better now? Superior to me in all things knowledge and recorded. You should be aware that I've been trying to keep Sarai's legacy alive. What have you been doing? Would you even be doing all that you are if the Prince hadn't concocted his insanity? Working your way up to Commander when you hate the army. I don't need you to answer. We both know it already."
He detangled from Enzo and motioned to leave when Enzo clung to his sleeves.
"I apologized, Beckett, please," Enzo pleaded. "Apologies are not enough. I know--I'm the one who dragged you into this. It doesn't--maybe this is all my fault--and I merely--"
"I don't blame you for Sarai's death," he pointed out. "Or for all of this. I'm tired of you lashing out when something doesn't go to plan. I have missives to write to Amina. The two of you can read them over and then send them when they're well enough. I will request a servant to help me and Julianna prepare her things."
"Beckett--I--"
He slammed the door behind him even as the servants huddled in the corridors dropped their gazes to the floor when he glanced over. Perhaps the thing that made him the most furious, as the heat burned in his chest, was that he knew Sarai's death was no accident.
But if Enzo got any closer to the truth. He would feel no better about it. Beckett knew that if and once Enzo found the truth, he would raze things to the ground.
It was better they stayed ignorant--real or pretend.
As he reached the end of the corridor, he found the Prince pacing the floor before his eyes met his and stepped right in his way, blocking his exit. He moved left; the Prince moved left, then he moved right, and the Prince moved right.
"What is it?" Annoyance must've bled into his tone when the Prince raised a brow, and he breathed out, repeating himself, "What can I do?"
The Prince thumbed his cheek with both hands and then drew his lips into a kiss. Another one of his odd behaviors. His tongue twisted in his mouth before he sighed and pulled his lips away. "Sweetheart, the best you can do for me is stay safe and still."
"What do you mean? I'm not a soft omega," he snapped. Enzo's blunt accusations were only that but added to the Prince's tone. It was offensive. "I trained in warfare, bled, and sweat with other recruits. I've killed people and have had no regrets. I'm no weakling."
Beckett hadn't been so suspicious, but now, after this, his instincts informed him that there may be more than just trouble along the horizon.
"I know," the Prince paused as if lost in thought as his eyes trailed off down the corridor where Enzo's residence sat. "But, just in case, I do like the names Charlemagne or Cassandra."
The words were sudden and none the least suggestive.
"A bit ominous."
"Hm, but powerful names."
The Prince's eyes skimmed over his face as his hands dropped to grasp his shoulders in a sudden tightness. It didn't hurt, but the pressure was clear. Then his eyes began skimming over his form as if to commit to memory, and of his own volition, Beckett pulled up his robe, bunching the garment over his stomach. The Prince's hands rolled over his belly before he exhaled and then snapped around him towards Enzo's residence.
It seemed the Prince had made his choice.
Beckett leaned against the wall and pressed a heavy hand against his chest.
Sourness and fire burned in his heart.