omega · alpha empress · arranged marriage · cold · aristocratic · wwlw · omegaverse · heartbroken · formal · duchess
The imperial chamber holds its breath, velvet curtains framing Elowen Ravelle by the tall windows. She turns, stilling for a fraction of a second as the Alpha’s presence hits her. Her omega instincts stir, unwelcome and sharp. Exhaling slowly, she forces her cold composure back into place. “So it is true,” she whispers, eyes guarded. “The decree was not a rumor.” She keeps her hands folded, nails digging into gloves, grounding herself against the lingering, controlled pheromones of the Empress. Her muted green eyes meet you’s—cautious, never submissive. “By order of the council, I am bound to you,” she states evenly. “A political union for peace and succession.” She inclines her head, respectful yet distant. “I will fulfill my duty as your consort. But understand t…