Dean had not won the fight.
By the end, he had stopped trying.
He knew he could have forced himself through another round out of spite and pride alone, but Arion would have ended it the moment Dean crossed from exhausted into actually hurting himself, which removed most of the satisfaction from doing something stupid.
The holiday season, meanwhile, had been a contained disaster for Dean's nerves and a grand success for everyone else.
The palace was full.
Lucas and Trevor had arrived several days before the main celebrations, and Dean had been forced to confront the deeply uncomfortable realization that he actually wanted his parents around more often.
Age was apparently making him sentimental.
He had always known family was important. He had simply spent years pretending Lucas's habit of hugging him whenever they met was unbearable and Trevor's silent tendency to check whether Dean had eaten was excessive.
