Caught by the Mad Alpha King-Chapter 457: Not White

"Uncle... Dax..." Arion managed through hiccups. "I hate white."

For one second, nobody in the room said anything.

Chris looked down at the child in his arms. Arion’s face was wet, blotchy, exhausted, and entirely sincere in his misery. The words had come out broken by tears, but the disgust in them was clear enough.

Dax’s hand remained steady at the back of Arion’s head.

Then he said, as if Arion had just submitted a reasonable complaint about room assignments and not a grief-struck verdict on a medical crisis, "Yes. It’s ugly."

The physician blinked.

Chris turned his head slowly toward Dax.

Arion gave one shaky, miserable hiccup and pressed harder into Chris, clearly vindicated by this immediate support.

Dax looked at the room.

White walls. White sheets. White light. White cabinetry. White uniforms softened only by royal insignia and careful tones. Everything a child in mutation distress would obviously hate.

His expression did not change, but something cold and decisive settled across it.

"How medically necessary is this room," he asked, "and how medically necessary is the color white?"

The physician stared at him.

Chris, who knew that tone very well, closed his eyes for half a second.

"Your Majesty," the physician said carefully, "the isolation room is necessary because of monitoring access, filtration, and rapid response capacity."

"I didn’t ask about the filtration," Dax said. "I asked about the room."

The physician hesitated.

That was enough of an answer.

Dax looked at the monitor once, then at Arion, then back at the physician. "He calmed when given physical contact and familiar people. He’s responding negatively to this environment."

Chris adjusted Arion slightly higher against his chest. The child had gone limp in that particular way frightened children did once someone stronger had taken over the hard part for them, though every now and then another tremor still ran through him.

The physician tried again. "Transferring him could create instability."

"Leaving him here is creating instability," Dax said.

That shut the room down.

Arion made another damp, angry sound against Chris’s shirt. "I hate it."

"Yes," Chris murmured. "We heard. Very strong review. One star."

Arion’s fingers tightened weakly in his shirt.

Dax stood.

The movement alone made half of the staff feel more nervous.

He looked toward the door. "Prepare one of Nero’s suites."

The physician actually took a step forward. "Your Majesty—"

"The children’s wing," Dax said, still calm. "Closest suite with enough space for full monitoring equipment, two nurses on rotation, emergency access, filtered intake, and a physician within immediate reach."

"That room is not medically certified for—"

"Then certify it."

Silence.

Chris bit the inside of his cheek.

Otto, still on the secure screen, went very still in a different way.

The physician looked like she was trying to decide whether to object on medical grounds or preserve her career.

Dax made the decision for her. "You have ten minutes to explain to me why an eight-year-old prince must remain in a room that is visibly worsening his distress, or twenty minutes to move the equipment."

The nurse nearest the monitors glanced at the screen and, unlike her superior, chose intelligence. "His numbers are down from the peak. If we move him carefully and keep full telemetry, it may actually reduce further agitation."

The physician turned to her sharply.

The nurse did not flinch. "He is calmer now than he has been since he arrived here." 𝗳𝚛𝗲𝕖𝚠𝚎𝚋𝗻𝗼𝕧𝗲𝐥.𝚌𝚘𝐦

Chris, still holding Arion, lifted his eyes toward Dax. "You do realize you are redesigning medical housing because an eight-year-old gave the room a bad review."

"Yes," Dax said.

"And you’re entirely serious."

"Yes."

Chris looked down at Arion. "Congratulations. You’ve weaponized interior criticism."

Arion, exhausted and half-drowned in tears, made a tiny sound that was probably meant to be agreement.

On the screen, Otto spoke for the first time in over a minute. "Can it be done safely?"

Every eye shifted toward him.

Dax answered at once. "Yes."

The physician opened her mouth.

Dax looked at her.

She closed it again.

Then, with visible reluctance, she said, "If we move him with portable monitoring, oxygen support on standby, and two nurses plus one attending physician during transfer... yes. It can be done."

"There," Dax said. "Done."

Chris huffed softly. "You really do solve half your problems like a king and the other half like a father who has run out of patience."

"Both are applicable."

Arion shifted again, wincing as the mutation rolled through him in another quieter wave. Chris immediately tightened his hold. Dax sat back down long enough to rest one hand over Arion’s hair again until the trembling passed.

"Listen to me," Dax said, low and direct. "We’re moving you."

Arion blinked up at him, eyes swollen and tired. "Not white?"

"Not white."

That got the faintest easing in the child’s face.

Chris smiled despite himself. "He’d relocate the government if you asked properly."

"I know," Otto said dryly from the screen.

Chris glanced toward the monitor. "You say that like it’s criticism."

"It’s recognition."

Dax ignored both of them and looked to the door. "Hale."

Hale appeared almost immediately because he had been standing just outside waiting for chaos to require him.

"Your Majesty."

"Lock down the children’s corridor. No unnecessary staff. Clear access route from here to Nero’s suite and reroute anyone who complains."

"Yes, Your Majesty."

"Have Rowan coordinate with household operations. I want that suite stripped of anything breakable, overdecorated, or medically inconvenient in the next ten minutes."

Hale didn’t even blink. "Yes, Your Majesty."

Chris looked up. "Tell Rowan it’s for Arion."

Hale’s mouth moved slightly. "That will make him faster."

Then he was gone.

The room changed tempo after that.

Once Dax had decided, everyone else had no choice but to become useful.

The nurses began preparing portable lines and monitors. One physician moved to call ahead. Another checked oxygen backup. Someone brought in a transfer cot, took one look at Arion wrapped around Chris, and quietly abandoned the idea in favor of more practical adjustments.

Chris noticed and said, "He’s not getting on that without starting a revolution."

"He can be transferred in arms if all lines are maintained," one nurse said, already working.

Dax nodded once. "Then that is how he will be moved."

The physician looked like she wanted to object again, but the monitor had already betrayed her argument by continuing to improve.

Arion, meanwhile, had heard enough to understand the important parts.

He looked blearily between Chris and Dax. "Nero’s room?"

"One of the children’s suites," Chris corrected. "Near Nero’s. Less insulting wallpaper. Better atmosphere. Fewer medical crimes against your eyes."

Arion frowned weakly. "Nero bites."

Chris blinked.

Dax’s mouth shifted. "Not today, he doesn’t."

That got the smallest, wettest, almost-laugh from the child, fragile as paper and twice as precious.

On the screen, Otto exhaled. Not relief, exactly. Something close enough to be dangerous.

"You’ll stay with him?"

Chris looked personally offended. "Obviously."

Dax answered at the same time. "Yes."