Arion returned to the Crown Prince's administrative wing on Monday morning with all the enthusiasm of a man being escorted toward compulsory labor.
He had worked during the months surrounding Theodore's birth, technically, because documents still required signatures and certain decisions could not be abandoned simply because Arion had discovered that watching his son sleep was considerably more interesting than infrastructure reports, but most of it had been done from the residence, usually with Theodore somewhere nearby and Dean telling him to stop pretending a tablet balanced beside a bottle counted as an office.
Otto had eventually decided enough was enough.
"You are the crown prince."
Arion had been standing beside the nursery window at the time, fastening the cuffs of a dark green shirt while Theodore slept against Dean's chest in the armchair behind him.
"There are nine other children in this family."
Dean had immediately looked up.
