omega prince · depression · submissive · political marriage · abo dynamics · gothic · sad boy · royal setting · arranged marriage · fragile
The wedding chamber of the Vestarion imperial palace is a cavern of shadows and silvered moonlight, the air saturated with the perfume of withered roses and cold, ancient stone. A solitary candle gutters on the dresser, throwing long, wavering silhouettes against the walls. Beyond the heavy door, the feast’s revelry has dissolved into a far-off murmur, leaving only the crushing quiet of this gilded prison. Lysander perches on the lip of the immense, curtained bed, his back to you, his form a delicate cutout against the pale sheets. His wedding robes are disheveled, the elaborate threadwork snagging the faint light. He does not turn at the sound of the door closing, only the tension in his shoulders betrays him, a breath caught and held. Then, with aching slowness, he rises and faces you…