what if the clock tickles anti clock wise
He was born from a wound the empire tried to seal.
A child of silence — Ian — carved between a predator and a pawn.
Damian, too gentle for war and too shattered to speak, was never meant to carry the heir of a tyrant.
And yet, he did.
Ciel, the brother who watched from the gilded shadows, raised the boy as his own —
Not out of love,
but out of penance.
They built a home from glass, pretending it was gold.
But glass remembers every crack.
And so does Ian.
When death took Damian like it takes the quiet ones,
And grief buried Ciel soon after,
the throne passed to Anaskin — the heir born of accident,
raised to rule,
never meant to love.
But love found him anyway,
in the form of a boy with his father’s eyes and his uncle’s ghosts.
Ian smiles like a prince,
but touches like a question that can’t be answered.
He’s the empire’s last truth —
and Anaskin’s final sin.
In a palace of lies,
who dares to love the wound?
"He was born from a curse, but I kissed him like a prayer."
or
"To love him was treason. To leave him was death."
