Bound by the Mark of Lies (BL)-Chapter 312 - 307: Who Am I Now?

After a night of sleep and a quiet conversation with Edward—one that ended with a veiled threat of exile if his matchmaking tendencies continued—Damian now stood still as the attendants finished fastening the last clasp of his ceremonial attire.

The robe was cut from black silk, layered with a crimson mantle that swept behind him like a shadow edged in blood. Gold embroidery coiled over the fabric—flames, thorns, and imperial sigils stitched into every fold with ruthless elegance. At his shoulders, polished pauldrons gleamed, wold-marked and chained across the chest. A sash bound the waist, clasped with a phoenix-and-crown emblem—Gabriel’s sigil resting beside his own. Black gloves, leather that hid the scars from ether scorching.

It was a suit of power. Meant to silence rooms before he spoke.

Even if the occasion was an execution.

"Is Gabriel ready?" Damian asked while adjusting his gloves.

"Almost," Edward said from the doorway, ever calm, ever unbothered. "Do you want to see him now?"

Damian didn’t answer right away. He looked down at his hands, gloved now in black, the leather creaking faintly as his fingers curled once, then stilled.

"No," he said finally, voice low. "If I see him, I’ll ask him not to come."

Edward’s brows lifted, but he said nothing. Just a quiet nod of understanding.

Damian exhaled once, steady and slow. "Let’s finish this circus and get back to important matters."

Edward’s expression didn’t shift, but there was the faintest flicker of amusement in his gaze, dry, familiar, the kind reserved only for moments like this. "Of course, Your Majesty."

He stepped aside, letting Damian pass.

The robe whispered against the polished floor as Damian moved forward, each step a reminder that mercy was not the same as weakness and today, the court would remember it.

—

Gabriel stood by the window, half-lit by pale morning light filtering through the stained glass. The coat draped over his shoulders was formal, black, long, and sharply cut, buttoned only at the waist, the collar left slightly open. His tie hung loose in his hand. He wasn’t crowned yet. He was here as Gabriel von Jaunez. Not the Empress.

Not yet.

But he looked every inch the sovereign.

His silhouette was all lines and control—broad shoulders framed by the structured fall of the coat, silver detailing tracing up the seams like whispered authority. The faint shimmer of cuff pins and the quiet sway of the chain at his hip accentuating the elegance of his frame.

He sighed as he heard the door opening, he turned to the door with the expectation of meeting Damian and he met the Emperor. He didn’t see Damian in full imperial attire from the coming-of-age ceremony.

Damian stepped into the room like the embodiment of a storm held at bay—too composed, too still, as if each thread of gold on his robe was anchoring him to the floor. Gabriel’s breath caught, just slightly. ƒreewebηoveℓ.com

For a moment, neither of them said anything.

Then Damian’s eyes narrowed on the undone collar.

"You’re not finished," he said, his voice too calm.

Gabriel arched a brow. "I’m almost there." He said, swinging the tie in his hands.

Damian didn’t respond with words. He simply crossed the space between them, took the tie from Gabriel’s fingers, and began to knot it with quiet precision.

Gabriel let him. "You don’t have to—

"I know," Damian said, adjusting the length, voice steady. "But if you’re walking beside me today, you’ll wear it properly."

The cloth slid smooth beneath Damian’s gloved hands. A tug, a loop, a firm pull—then the collar was straightened, the buttons at the throat fastened without question. Gabriel’s coat shifted slightly with the motion, settling heavier on his shoulders.

Damian didn’t step back when he finished. His hands lingered, one at Gabriel’s collar, the other brushing down the front of his coat in a final, unnecessary adjustment.

Gabriel looked up at him, his gaze calm but unreadable. "If you keep adjusting me like I’m one of your ceremonial blades, people will think I’m part of the uniform."

"Hmm, you can be," Damian said, quietly. "But not today; we would meet at our places. I have to go add the last piece of this image."

"The sword?" Gabriel asked, raising a brow.

"The crown."

Gabriel stilled—just for a breath.

The word echoed in his mind like a ripple across still water, oddly familiar and strangely hollow.

"I’ve never seen you wear it," he said after a moment. "You don’t use it."

Damian shrugged, the gold embroidery of his mantle catching in the morning light like restrained fire.

"I never needed it," he said. "It’s a burden to use properly, more than just ceremonial weight. You have to anchor ether through it, channel intention. It’s not jewelry. It’s a weapon."

His tone cooled. "And today, I intend to remind the Empire and its neighbors what happens when they forget who holds it."

Gabriel didn’t speak right away. His gaze lingered on Damian, sharp and unreadable, but something flickered in his expression.

He only said, voice smooth and clipped, "Then don’t keep your audience waiting."

—

The corridor beyond the chamber was already lined with attendants and officers in muted dress uniforms, each one stilling the moment Gabriel passed.

He walked without hesitation; his eyes were on the nobles below the palace’s balcony. It felt eerie, as he had done this before, he had passed the same formation with different people, not for an execution, but for something else.

Gabriel exhaled slowly, barely a breath for those watching him; he was afraid of confronting what would happen when he started to remember.

’What am I now? Dominie? Gabriel the consort? Gabriel von Jaunez? Or the safety engineer who thought he’d make it to old age doing math and maintenance reports?’

His gaze hardened as the memory faded again, retreating behind a wall not yet ready to fall.

He kept walking.

Every step felt too quiet, too measured, like something beneath the ground was listening.

Edward stood waiting at the end of the corridor, posture straight, expression unreadable but steady in the way only Edward could manage—like he’d seen emperors burn and still kept to the schedule.

"Your Grace," he said, bowing with flawless precision. "His Majesty will be there in a few minutes. Please wait to enter together."

Gabriel nodded once, sharp and silent.