Chapter Text
The Theerapanyakun estate was unusually still when the cars rolled in. Word had traveled ahead — not about the enemies they’d crushed, but about who was finally coming home.
Vegas stepped out first, expression unreadable, only to be met with twin fists.
Phayu’s hit landed to his jaw. Prapai’s to his ribs. Both sharp enough to sting, both holding months of pent-up worry.
Vegas didn’t flinch. He just let them have it.
Then, without missing a beat, both men stepped forward and pulled him in. A brief, wordless hug.
“Thank you,” Phayu murmured, low and rough.
“For keeping them safe,” Prapai added, just as quiet.
Vegas didn’t reply. His gaze flicked over their shoulders instead, to where Rain and Sky were stepping out of the second car.
They looked different here — not in the clothes or posture, but in the air about them. Safe. Untouched. Carrying something fragile and new.
Inside the main hall, the introductions were formal. Heads of the family seated at the long table, guards lining the walls.
Rain and Sky bowed, not just to the heads, but to every single guard who had a hand on their safety.
It startled a few of the men — and softened the rest. Quiet nods were returned. A few faint smiles. And just like that, they weren’t just outsiders anymore.
The approval was unspoken, but palpable. Dedication settled in the air like a silent oath.
From this day forward, Rain and Sky weren’t just people the princes loved.
They were family.
—
Time skip:
The mansion’s marble halls had seen their share of chaos, but nothing quite like this.
Rain waddled past a row of amused guards, arms overloaded with blankets and pillows like a determined penguin on a mission.
“Khun Rain, may we—”
“No,” he cut off the nearest guard without slowing. “I got it.”
Another tried, just as politely. “We could—”
“Nope.”
Classic Rain. Seven months pregnant, stubborn as a cat, and convinced only he knew how to arrange the perfect nest.
From the lounge doorway, Porchay leaned on the frame, grinning. “You know that’s called nesting, right?”
Rain shot him a glare over the pile of fabric. “It’s called I want to be comfortable without anyone touching my stuff.”
Sky appeared a few steps behind him, graceful despite the slight swell of his own stomach, and just as bossy in his own way.
“P’Pai,” he called toward the kitchen without even looking, “I want mangoes. And fries. And watermelon. And strawberries. Fresh. Not the ones from this morning.”
Somewhere else in the house, a tired groan rose in answer.
From the sofa, Porsche and Pete were doubled over laughing, their rings glinting in the light. “You two aren’t catching a break anytime soon,” Porsche managed between snickers.
Pete wiped his eyes. “They’ve turned the princes into errand boys.”
Rain finally dropped his mountain of bedding onto a couch with a satisfied sigh, curling into it like he’d been searching for it all day. Sky slid into the armchair beside him, immediately accepting a plate from a passing guard who had apparently decided mangoes came first.
The queens of the house watched the two younger men with quiet amusement — and a touch of pride. In the few months since they’d arrived, Rain and Sky had flourished under the family’s care, trading their wary reserve for soft smiles and easy demands.
They weren’t just guests anymore. They were the spoiled future queens, carrying the family’s legacy in the curve of their bellies and the confidence in their voices.
From the far corner, Vegas stood with his hands in his pockets, a small smile tugging at his mouth.
Yeah, he thought. Every fight, every risk, every scar — it was worth it.