[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 101: Some Truths Are Personal

Chapter 101: Chapter 101: Some Truths Are Personal

At noon the room had quieted again. The soft clink of porcelain had faded with breakfast, and the scent of citrus and linen hung in the air—clean, still. Afternoon light slanted through the balcony doors, casting long, golden stripes across the polished floor and the edge of the chaise where Lucas now sat curled, one leg tucked beneath him, Trevor’s oversized robe draped around his shoulders.

Trevor stood by the desk, fingers resting lightly on the back of a chair, a frown tugging at the edge of his mouth.

"You should write everything down," he said at last.

Lucas looked up from his journal, pen still in hand. "I already did. The important things."

Trevor raised a brow. "Everything, Lucas. Not just what’s useful. Not just what makes sense."

Lucas hesitated, his thumb brushing the spine of the leather-bound agenda resting in his lap.

"I don’t want you to forget anything," Trevor continued, quieter now. "Even the parts that sound insane. Even the parts that hurt. Memory’s fickle. Time erodes things. And if we’re going to tear this whole system down, we need the truth—even if it’s messy. Even if it’s only true for you."

Lucas’s grip on the pen tightened, just slightly.

"I’ve already written names," he said slowly. "Places. Faces. Christian. The buyers. The way Misty handled the documents, how I was transferred. The clinic visits. What Velloran said to me. I’ve written it."

Trevor nodded. "Good. That’s a start. But I mean the rest too. Your thoughts. The patterns. The timelines that don’t line up. The memories that feel like dreams. The ones that feel too real."

Lucas didn’t answer right away. He stared down at the page, the last sentence half-finished.

Then, very softly: "You were married."

Trevor blinked. "What?"

Lucas didn’t look at him. He kept his eyes on the journal in his lap, the pen stilled between his fingers. "You married a woman from the western isles. I never met you or her then. Most of the time after my twenty-first birthday... after I was delivered to Christian’s manor, there was no way out for me. I only caught pieces of the world through the news he allowed. And they said it was love."

Trevor stayed silent, listening—watching the way Lucas’s shoulders stayed still, too still.

"I feel guilty," Lucas murmured. "Like maybe I took that from you. A life. A future. Something peaceful."

Trevor’s voice was quiet now. "What happened to her?"

"She died," Lucas said. "After a while. There was no reason given. Just speculation—an incurable disease, they said. Something quiet. Sudden."

Trevor leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. "West isles, you said. Do you know her age at that time?"

Lucas nodded. "She was as old as me. We were the same age."

There was a long pause.

Then Trevor said simply, "Well, I can tell you that I chose you." NovelFire

Lucas looked up slowly.

Trevor’s voice was unwavering, almost amused. "And I married you in front of five bishops and Serathine, who wore that gold dress and threatened to smite anyone who dared to make the ceremony longer than necessary."

Lucas blinked. "But still..."

Trevor tilted his head, the grin not quite fading. "I can find who she is. If, by some miracle, she’s a dominant like us, maybe I can finally get Dax off my back."

Lucas gave him a look, somewhere between scandalized and impressed. "You are... ruthless."

Trevor reached for his cup again. "I want you. I don’t care to entertain some vague possibility just because that’s the way it played out one time. This is the life I have. This is the one I’m keeping."

Lucas’s mouth parted, about to respond—

When a sharp knock cut through the moment.

The door opened before either of them could speak, and Windstone stepped in, perfectly composed save for the very rare grimace etched across his face.

"His Majesty, the King," he announced, his tone clipped with just enough dismay to betray how little warning he’d had, "is here."

Trevor didn’t move. "We’re on our honeymoon, Windstone."

"I told him," Windstone replied flatly. "He told me to go to hell."

And then Dax entered without hesitation, sweeping through the door like a shadow cloaked in state regalia. He wore a formal long black coat, tailored within an inch of its life, with a high collar starched to attention. A gold shawl—ceremonial, symbolic, and undoubtedly meant to make a point—was draped over his right arm like it weighed more than it should.

"Trevor," Dax said, with the kind of smile politicians used before launching a war, "I thought we were friends."

Trevor didn’t stand.

Didn’t even blink.

"We were. Until you showed up uninvited. While I was not dressed. While my husband is recovering from a lifetime of systemic abuse. And while Windstone was enjoying his only moment of peace this week."

Windstone coughed once, clearly offended by the insinuation that he’d ever experienced peace.

"So you intentionally ignored my invitation," Dax said, arms crossed over the ceremonial gold drape still slung with casual arrogance over his shoulder.

"I did," Trevor replied, utterly unrepentant.

Dax sighed dramatically and placed a hand on Windstone’s shoulder, steadying himself as if from emotional collapse. "I feel betrayed. You married and left me behind. Not a single scandal. Not even a knife in a cake."

"Should I leave the two of you alone?" Lucas asked, closing his agenda with a quiet snap as he made to rise.

Trevor stopped him immediately, one hand on his wrist. "You’re barely dressed. Stay down."

Lucas raised a brow. "Possessive."

"Always," Trevor said without missing a beat.

Dax smirked. "Well, at least someone around here has priorities."

But the humor thinned just slightly. He looked around the room, took in the settled calm, the half-eaten breakfast, and the stack of papers beside Windstone’s tablet. Something in his posture changed. Less regal. More real.

"I need you both at the luncheon," he said finally. "I’ve had it with ministers who think flattery is policy and guests who think the crown is for sale. I want something grounded. Preferably sharp. Or at least entertaining." NovelFire

Trevor’s expression didn’t shift. He turned his attention to Lucas instead, his voice softer but intentional. "Do you mind if we keep Dax as an ally?"