[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega

The lounging room was quiet, sun-drenched, and soft around the edges, its ivory walls muted to honey in the afternoon light. Long sheer curtains stirred faintly against the breeze filtering through the tall windows, casting faint, shifting patterns on the polished floor, shadows shaped like leaves, like lullabies.

Trevor was stretched out on the long settee near the window, one arm propped along the cushion, the other resting loosely around the cool glass of something amber and sharp. A tablet balanced on his thigh, open to reports laced with red-flagged names and court whispers, but his attention kept drifting.

Lucas was curled beside him, head in Trevor’s lap, hair fanned over the rich fabric like ash and silk spun gold where the sun touched it. One hand held the tablet he was reading, thumb skimming over headlines about their public marriage, phrases like Fitzgeralt heir claims imperial omega and From unknown to duchess in one season repeating with an almost comical obsession. His other arm hung relaxed over the edge of the lounge, fingers brushing Trevor’s knee now and then, absentmindedly.

"They think I was groomed," Lucas murmured eventually, not looking up. "Or that you drugged me. Or that I poisoned you."

Trevor took a slow sip from his glass. "You did poison me."

"Emotionally."

"You hid my cufflinks and made me walk into my own wedding with a pin through my lapel. That’s sabotage."

Lucas tilted the screen toward him so Trevor could see the headline: The Silent Omega: A Political Pawn or the Architect of His Own Rise? He raised an unimpressed brow. "They think I’m tragic."

Trevor reached down with his free hand and brushed a few strands of Lucas’s hair off his forehead, letting his fingers linger there. "You are tragic. In a beautifully efficient, socially ruinous way."

Lucas snorted but leaned into the touch, letting his tablet fall to rest against his chest. His eyes stayed closed. "Are we going to be like this forever?"

"What, admired and resented?"

"No. This." His voice softened. "You, me. Peace between disasters."