[BL]Reborn as the Empire's Most Desired Omega
Chapter 203: Against clergy

Chapter 203: Chapter 203: Against clergy

The heavy double doors opened with a smooth sweep, and a rush of warm air from the grand foyer met them, carrying with it the scent of polished wood and the faintest trace of orchids from the arrangements flanking the entrance.

Lucas stepped through first, Trevor just half a step ahead, their joined pace effortless as they crossed the marble expanse toward the wide staircase descending into the receiving hall. The sound of distant conversation softened, a ripple of attention spreading through the gathered officials and courtiers as they appeared on the landing.

Trevor’s expression was all composed regality, the dark violet of his sash catching the light with each measured step. Lucas beside him was the quiet counterpoint: gold‑threaded embroidery glinting under the chandeliers, the plum‑and‑merlot fabric shifting like shadowed wine with each movement. They descended in unison, the hush of expectation following them like a tide.

At the base of the stairs, the Imperial family waited. Sirius stood at ease in a midnight suit, blue eyes bright with that irreverent charm that always masked sharper thoughts beneath. Beside him, Lucius’s gaze was cool and assessing, his posture perfect as though the weight of centuries rested easily on his shoulders. And there, slightly apart but still central, was Emperor Caelan himself, unmistakable in tailored black with a sweep of gold detailing at his cuffs, his presence quiet and immovable, the air around him seeming to hold itself in check.

Trevor’s stride didn’t falter as he approached, bowing his head with the respect due their station. Lucas mirrored him, offering the same polished nod, his green eyes meeting Caelan’s briefly before sliding to Sirius with the faintest flicker of wry amusement.

"Your Majesty," Trevor said evenly, voice low and steady as he inclined his head.

Caelan’s mouth curved, subtle and sharp. "Duke Fitzgeralt," he replied, his tone deceptively smooth. "You’ve kept us waiting, but I see it was worth it."

Lucas caught the faint sparkle in Sirius’s eyes at that, the Crown Prince leaning slightly forward. "You clean up well, Grand Duchess," Sirius quipped lightly, though there was genuine admiration in his glance.

"Thank you, Your Highness," Lucas replied, his voice calm, carrying that dry undertone Trevor adored. "It seemed wiser than arriving in disguise."

Trevor’s hand remained warm at the small of his back, steadying, grounding, as the pleasantries shifted to brief formalities, Lucius offering a cool but courteous greeting, Caelan’s eyes lingering in subtle appraisal.

And then the soft click of heels announced the approach of two more forces of nature.

Cressida entered first, a sweep of cool jade silk and precise diamonds glinting at her ears, every step measured, her chin lifted in that effortless posture that spoke of generations of power. Just behind her, Serathine emerged in a flourish of crimson satin and sharp‑cut gold, her red hair gleaming under the light, a smile tugging her lips like she already knew how to make the entire court dance to her tune.

The two women moved forward in tandem, each radiating their own distinct kind of authority, and the Imperial family’s attention shifted, even if only slightly, at their arrival.

"Your Majesties," Cressida said first, her tone smooth as glass, inclining her head just enough to acknowledge their rank while never diminishing her own.

Serathine followed, her smile widening just enough to flash teeth. "A rare day indeed," she said, voice rich and warm. "I trust our presence here eases your burden, rather than adds to it."

Sirius’s laugh came first, low and genuine. "That depends entirely on how much planning you’ve done without us," he replied, earning a knowing arch of Serathine’s brow and a faint smirk from Cressida.

For a moment, the hall seemed to hold its breath, the weight of four worlds colliding, Lucas and Trevor standing as one, flanked by the twin storms of Serathine and Cressida, meeting the steady front of the Imperial family.

It was polished. It was seamless. And somewhere beneath all the careful smiles and measured words, Lucas felt Trevor’s hand press just a little firmer at his back, a silent reminder: together.

—

Lucius lingered just a step behind his brother, blue eyes sweeping over the assembled figures with that lazy sharpness that so often hid his true amusement.

He let the formal greetings die down, waited until the attendants retreated and the space between them felt just a fraction less ceremonial, before tilting his head toward Trevor with a faint, knowing curve of his lips.

"You do realize," Lucius began, his tone deceptively mild, "that you, Cressida, and Serathine have managed something very few dare attempt."

Trevor’s dark eyes flicked toward him, unreadable. "Only one thing?"

Lucius’s smirk deepened, a glint of humor threading through the coolness of his voice. "You’ve managed to offend every single high priest, bishop, and sanctimonious relic in three provinces. All at once."

Lucas, standing just to Trevor’s side, felt the corner of his mouth twitch despite himself. "Ah," he murmured softly, green eyes gleaming with restrained amusement, "so the letters have started arriving?"

"Oh," Lucius said, folding his hands neatly behind his back like a man delivering a particularly pleasant report, "they’ve done more than arrive. I believe one called it, what was it?, a scandalous imperial oversight bordering on heresy. Another said this union would ’curse the halls of the faithful.’" His smirk sharpened. "They’re very creative when they’re furious."

Serathine, standing nearby in her crimson-and-gold brilliance, gave a soft, rich laugh that cut through the tension like velvet over a blade. "Good. Perhaps they’ll write a book about it, saving me the trouble of sending them a thank‑you note."

Cressida’s eyes narrowed in cool amusement, her tone honeyed and sharp. "Really, Lucius, if they’re so distraught, they could have built their own wedding. We built this one. And we invite whom we please."

Trevor’s mouth tilted, subtle, dangerous, as he adjusted the line of his ceremonial sash. "Besides," he drawled, voice low enough that only those closest could hear, "they’ve blessed enough weddings that ended in ruin. Perhaps it’s time we tried without their help."

Lucius’s smirk turned into a quiet laugh, the kind that barely shook his shoulders but glittered in his eyes. "Remarkable," he said at last, gaze moving between the three of them, Cressida poised like a knife’s edge, Serathine glowing like contained fire, and Trevor steady as the storm he always was.

"You’ve all done what no battle or treaty could: united the entire clergy in outrage."

Lucas finally let his smile show, green eyes glinting as he murmured, "Should we send them pastries as consolation, or would that be considered sacrilege?"

That earned Serathine’s low, delighted laugh, Cressida’s thinly veiled smirk, and Trevor’s soft chuckle rumbling like distant thunder.

And through it all, Lucius only shook his head, a man thoroughly entertained by the chaos they’d sown, quietly wondering if this wedding might, in fact, be the most brilliant diplomatic maneuver he’d seen in years.