Damian had barely set Arik down into the crook of Gabriel's waiting arms before the omega was retreating toward the adjoining chamber, tablet under one arm and a towel draped loosely around his shoulders.
"I'm invoking the recovery clause," Gabriel called over his shoulder, the sound of running bathwater following a beat later. "One more month. No council meetings, no paperwork, no angry nobles unless they trip and fall into my lap… and even then, I'll consider it a personal attack."
Damian's brow arched, but Gabriel had already disappeared into the steam, leaving him with the faint sound of Arik's happy babbling and the quiet efficiency of Edward stepping forward.
"Regalia, Sire," Edward said simply, already handing off the dark trousers and white formal shirt to the attendants. They moved with practiced precision, layering fabric and fastening hooks until Damian stood in tailored black and white, the weight of the Imperial sash draped neatly over one shoulder.
