[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 202: Descending into the storm

Chapter 202: Chapter 202: Descending into the storm

The corridor beyond their suite felt charged, lined with attendants who moved aside instinctively as Trevor and Lucas passed. Their footsteps echoed softly against the marble floor, the muted hum of preparations rising like a distant tide. The scent of polished wood and fresh-cut flowers mingled in the air, a quiet reminder that the manor itself was dressed for spectacle.

Lucas’s fingers rested lightly in the crook of Trevor’s arm, but his green eyes stayed fixed ahead, thoughtful, unreadable. Every few steps, Trevor would glance down, taking in the way the light caught on the gold filigree at Lucas’s collar, how the violet-black sweep of his coat shifted with each stride like liquid shadow.

At the end of the hall, a pair of tall doors swung open, revealing the grand staircase. Sunlight poured in from the high arched windows, gilding the balustrades and catching on the crystal pendants of the great chandelier. Below, the marble expanse of the reception hall shimmered with movement, staff assembling, guards adjusting their formation, and the distant flash of photographers already gathering at the outer gates.

Lucas slowed for half a step, breath catching as he took in the view. It wasn’t the beauty of the room that did it, it was the weight of the moment, the inevitability of stepping into it.

Trevor felt the shift in his pace and stopped with him, turning just enough that Lucas could feel the warmth of his presence at his side. He didn’t speak immediately. Instead, his hand covered Lucas’s for a moment, thumb brushing over the back of his knuckles, steady and grounding.

Lucas drew in a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching into that dry, almost amused smile that only Trevor ever saw. "If I run now," he murmured, low enough that only Trevor could hear, "would you cover for me?"

Trevor’s storm-dark eyes glinted with quiet mischief as he leaned just slightly closer, his voice a soft rumble. "For you? I’d burn every exit behind us."

Lucas huffed a quiet laugh, his nerves easing just enough to move again. Together, they stepped onto the landing, the sweeping marble steps unfurling before them like a stage.

Below, the hush spread. Attendants stilled, the faint buzz of conversation dimming as eyes lifted toward them. Light caught the gold at Lucas’s shoulder and the deep violet of Trevor’s sash, and for a heartbeat the room held its breath.

Trevor’s grip on Lucas’s hand remained firm, the weight of it a steady anchor as they began their descent, one measured step at a time, side by side, the Duke and the Grand Duchess moving toward the world waiting to claim a glimpse of them.

And though Lucas kept his expression composed, calm as the marble beneath his feet, somewhere in the back of his mind lingered the warmth of Trevor’s kiss and the echo of his words, I’d burn every exit behind us.

It wasn’t much.

But it was enough to carry him forward.

—

The moment their feet touched the polished marble of the reception hall, the low murmur of the manor swelled again. Somewhere beyond the arched glass doors, the courtyard was alive with movement, cars sweeping through the gates, the gleam of imperial banners fluttering against the early light, and the clipped instructions of aides adjusting final placements.

Windstone was waiting at the base of the stairs, posture immaculate, hands folded behind his back. He inclined his head as they reached him, his pale green eyes flicking briefly to Lucas before settling on Trevor with the faintest nod.

"They’re five minutes out," Windstone said, voice smooth, calm. "The Imperial Guard is clearing the last perimeter now. You’ll receive them on the east portico."

Trevor gave a single sharp nod, his grip on Lucas’s hand tightening briefly before he let go. He turned to his husband-to-be, storm‑dark eyes catching in that quick glance the nerves Lucas thought he’d hidden.

"They’re only people," Trevor murmured, low enough for no one else to hear. "Important people, yes... but only people."

Lucas exhaled softly, lips curving faintly as he replied in the same quiet tone, "You say that like you believe it."

Trevor’s mouth curved, a shadow of a grin. "I say it like I need you to believe it. You know Sirius and Lucius; I’m going to kick their asses, metaphorically, if they try anything funny."

Lucas’s brows lifted, just enough to break through his careful composure.

"In front of the Imperial family?" he asked, his voice low, threaded with dry amusement.

Trevor’s grin edged sharper, though his tone stayed deceptively calm. "Metaphorically," he repeated, leaning in a fraction closer as if sharing a secret. "But if either of them so much as breathes a rumor or tries to bait you into one of their little games, they’ll find out exactly how far my patience stretches."

Lucas huffed a quiet laugh through his nose, the sound carrying a flicker of relief. "You’d risk turning the most formal event of the year into a family brawl?"

"Family tradition," Trevor murmured, storm‑dark eyes catching the light as his grin softened into something quieter. "Besides... they’d deserve it."

Lucas shook his head, though the corner of his mouth curved despite himself. "Gods, Trevor. If you start, Serathine will finish it, and we’ll both be running for cover."

"Then I’ll just make sure you’re standing behind me," Trevor replied smoothly, offering his arm once more as the first car door opened below and the hum of anticipation rippled through the crowd.

Lucas slipped his hand into place, steadying his breath. "Fine," he said softly, a smile tugging at his lips as the sunlight spilled in through the high windows. "But if this turns into one of your family traditions, you’re explaining it to the Emperor."

Trevor’s laugh rumbled low, warm against the tension threading the air.

"Gladly," he said, his voice dropping into that velvet drawl that always carried a faint edge of amusement, "he has to pay that now that I’m officially part of the Imperial family."

His hand at Lucas’s back was steady, grounding, as he guided him forward. The murmur of attendants waiting below grew clearer with each step, the soft gleam of chandeliers spilling light down the staircase like molten gold.

Lucas cast him a sidelong look, catching the flicker of dry humor in those storm‑dark eyes, the calm he wore like armor even when the thought of the Imperial court clearly grated. "You make it sound like a tax," Lucas murmured, lips curving faintly.

Trevor’s grin deepened by a fraction. "Maybe it is."

And then they stepped onto the landing together, the world beyond the double doors holding its breath, waiting for the Grand Duke and his soon‑to‑be‑publicly‑crowned consort to appear. Side by side, they descended, their steps matched, their composure seamless, two figures carrying their own quiet understanding into the storm of ceremony waiting below.