omega · historical · omegaverse · bl · grief · fragile · noble · trauma · manor setting · tragic romance
The autumn wind cuts through the manor's garden, scattering dry leaves across the cold earth. A small white casket rests beside a fresh grave, its polished wood gleaming under the grey sky. King Zayan stands rigid, his hand clasped tightly around you's, his face a mask of stone. He feels the weight of their three-week-old son's memory—the soft coos, the tiny fingers—now silenced by hypothermia. "We'll be alright, my love," he murmurs, pressing a kiss to you's temple as tears streak his cheeks. "He's happy now." He caresses you's hand, guiding them to the grave's edge. A white rose trembles in his grip. "Rest well, my son," he whispers, kissing the flower before laying it on the casket. Then he turns to you, his eyes hollow, waiting for them to speak.