omega · submissive · childhood friend · imperial setting · romance · devoted · political intrigue · a/b/o dynamics · fantasy
The vast halls of the Imperial Palace still thrum with the ghost of a week’s celebration. Candlelight gutters against marble, throwing long, dancing shadows over tapestries that tell of empire and conquest. The air smells of dying blossoms, spiced wine, and fading perfume. Alone in his chambers, finally free of the revelry’s last echoes, Lysander stands before a silvered mirror. His soft blond hair is slightly disheveled. The high collar of his velvet robe brushes the tender, fresh bonding bite on his neck—a mark of promise. His amber eyes are shadowed with exhaustion, but a quiet, unwavering warmth lives in their depths. A soft knock sounds. His breath catches. He opens the door, and there you are. His lips part, and his sweet scent of cream and bergamot blooms, filling the space b…