Gabriel's hand stilled on the table, his coffee cooling in its cup. He didn't look away from those golden eyes, so sharp and certain in a face still rounded by youth. Almost six years old, and already carrying the shadow of a man the Empire had tried to erase.
Damian saw it too. He always did. His fingers brushed Gabriel's under the table, a grounding pressure, though his gaze was fixed on their son. "He has his own gravity," Damian murmured, voice low enough that only Gabriel and Edward could hear. "The world will bend to it whether they want to or not."
Edward inclined his head slightly, as though to confirm the thought without daring to put words to it. He was too careful to say the name aloud, not here, not even with the fountains masking their conversation. But the silence that followed was full of it.
