Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 451: Teething and ranks

Dax’s gaze moved from Rowan to Hale.

"The palace needs a new steward," he said. "That position will go to Rowan Stone."

Rowan’s shoulders locked.

He had expected it. That did not make hearing it easier.

Dax continued before either man could speak. "Killian cannot be replaced. I will not pretend otherwise. But his office does not stay empty, and this household does not stop moving because we are grieving."

Rowan lowered his head once. "Understood, Your Majesty."

"You will take over immediately," Dax said. "You keep his staff, his access, and his authority. If anyone resists the transition, they answer to me."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Then Dax turned to Hale.

"And the queen’s security needs a new chief."

Hale straightened further, as if bracing.

"That role is yours now," Dax said. "Effective immediately."

Hale stared at him for a second, caught off guard despite himself. Then he bowed.

"I accept, Your Majesty."

Chris finally stepped in, calm and precise. "The paperwork will be done today. Internal notice first. Public notice later. I do not want rumors before the funeral announcement."

Both men nodded.

Chris looked at Hale. "You’ll receive full access to my routes, residence, and command structure before evening."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

Then his gaze shifted to Rowan. "And you’ll take over household operations without changing anything unless necessary."

Rowan gave a short nod. "Understood."

Dax’s expression did not soften.

"Killian died serving this family," he said. "He will be honored properly. Until then, the palace functions. There will be no disorder, no hesitation, and no gap wide enough for anyone to mistake grief for weakness."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Rowan said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Hale echoed.

For a moment, nobody moved.

Then Chris added, more quietly, "You’re both exhausted. Do the handover. Then eat and sleep before you make mistakes."

Rowan scoffed despite himself.

It was brief, dry, and gone almost immediately, but it was enough to break the tension for half a second.

Chris’s mouth twitched. "Good. You still have basic function. Go."

"Yes, Your Majesty," Rowan said.

"Yes, Your Majesty," Hale echoed.

They turned toward the door.

The suite finally started to settle around the silence they left behind.

Dax stood still for a moment longer, then sat with such control that it was clear he was far more tired than he wanted to admit. Chris moved the ashbox carefully farther back on the table and came to sit beside him.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke.

Then a sharp scream cut through the corridor.

Both of them were on their feet instantly.

Nero.

Chris was already moving when the door opened. One of Nero’s nannies hurried in with the prince in her arms, looking strained but composed. Nero was red-faced and wailing, tears soaked into his cheeks, one tiny fist jammed near his mouth in furious misery.

"Your Majesties," she said quickly over the crying, "he woke and wouldn’t settle. We checked everything. He’s dry, he ate, he has no fever, and he has no injury. We think..." she hesitated as Nero let out another angry cry. "We think it’s his teeth again."

Chris held out his arms at once. "Give him here."

The second Nero landed against his chest, he grabbed onto Chris’s shirt and cried harder, pressing his wet face into Chris’s shoulder as though lodging a formal complaint against infancy itself.

Chris adjusted him automatically, one hand on his back. "Oh, that’s serious then."

Dax stepped closer, all of his attention shifting at once. "Show me."

Chris eased Nero back just enough for both of them to see. Nero was furious, miserable, and chewing aggressively on two of his own fingers between cries.

Dax touched his jaw lightly, careful and practiced. Nero made an offended sound and tried to turn his face away.

"Yes," Chris said quietly. "Teething."

The nanny nodded. "He’s been chewing everything, Your Majesty. We used the cooling rings, the cloth, and the gel from the physician’s instructions. Nothing calmed him for long."

Nero cried again and reached blindly toward Dax.

Chris glanced sideways. "He wants both suffering and an audience."

Dax took him without hesitation.

Nero folded into him immediately, still crying but with less force now, his small body tense with pain and outrage. He pressed his face into Dax’s shoulder, then turned and reached one damp hand back toward Chris too, clearly unwilling to accept comfort unless both fathers were present.

Chris exhaled softly and stepped closer, rubbing Nero’s back while Dax held him.

"You dramatic little thing," Chris murmured. "Your gums hurt, so naturally the entire palace has to know."

Nero gave a broken, angry sound that suggested yes, exactly.

Dax shifted him higher and kissed his temple once. "Bring the cold ring again," he said to the nanny. "And the cloth."

She moved at once.

Chris kept one hand on Nero’s back, the other brushing lightly through the baby’s hair as he cried into Dax’s neck. "He was fine earlier."

"He was asleep earlier," Dax replied.

"That child sleeps like a diplomat," Chris said. "He wakes up offended."

That got the faintest breath of a sound out of Dax. Not a laugh, but close enough to count.

The nanny returned quickly with a chilled teething ring wrapped in a soft cloth. Dax took it, but Chris leaned in first.

"Let me."

He touched it gently to Nero’s mouth. Nero fussed, turned away once out of principle, then immediately grabbed for it with both hands and shoved it against his gums with desperate concentration.

His crying broke into hiccuping sobs.

"There we are," Chris said, voice lowering. "So that was the apocalypse."

Nero gnawed furiously, still glaring through tears like this was everyone else’s fault.

Dax sat down with him, keeping the baby tucked close while Chris settled beside them. Between them, Nero slowly calmed - not fully, because he was ten months old, in pain, and committed to feeling betrayed - but enough that the screaming dropped into damp little complaints.

The nanny visibly relaxed.

Chris looked up at her. "You did the right things."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"You can go. Stay nearby."

She bowed and slipped out.

Nero kept chewing with intense concentration, his little face flushed and damp, one hand gripping the ring and the other hooked stubbornly into Dax’s shirt. Every few seconds he made a soft, miserable sound around it, just to make sure nobody forgot he was still suffering.

Chris brushed a thumb under one swollen eye. "You really are your father’s son. Everything must be experienced at full intensity."

Dax looked down at Nero. "That is not a compliment to either of us."

"It wasn’t meant to be."

Nero paused just long enough to make a small, wounded noise and lean sideways into Chris while still clinging to Dax.

Chris softened immediately and kissed the top of his head. "Yes, yes. You’re brave. Tragic. Heroic, even."

Nero accepted that as his due.

The room grew quieter after that.

Not peaceful, exactly. The ashbox was still on the table. The grief was still there. Arion was still behind glass and machines and fear.

But now Nero was between them, warm and teething and impossible, demanding both his fathers at once because his mouth hurt and he had no interest in enduring that alone.

Dax rested one hand on the back of Nero’s head and looked at Chris over him.

Chris understood the look.

"He needed us," he said quietly.

Dax nodded once.

Nero made another grumbling sound around the teething ring.

Chris huffed softly. "And he wanted witnesses."