Malachite | L. S [Completed]

2: Beloved Precious

"Do not bring him into this," Louis growled lowly, uncaring of Harry attempting to stop him. "I accept. Lady Elizabeth will be accompanying us then, father."

"Very well then. Shall we return to our meals?" As though lighting a candle, chatter filled the hall in two blinks, the clattering of silver against silver blurring most of the voices. But Louis had lost his appetite, anger spewing in the depths of him as he held onto Harry's hand. His mouth felt bitter and eyes sore, beats of his heart rising.

"If you will excuse me," Louis muttered, not awaiting a reply as he walked away. His eyes stung, with anger and with disrespect. The king's words revolving in his mind over and over again, wounding his honour. How did he expect Louis to become king if he still treated him like a pup? He was a grown alpha, almost nearing his third decade of living, and yet no one ever gave him the respect he deserved. Leah was supposed to be the heir, not him. It was not upon him to act a certain way if it had not been for Leah who stepped down as the heir, and Louis was going to despise her for that forever.

"Lou," Louis' eyes flashed open when he heard the familiar voice, meeting with the sight of the omega standing in front of him with an apologetic contort on his face. Louis growled, pulling the omega behind a statue in reflex before he pushed him against the wall, claiming his mouth hungrily. Harry went along with it just as fluidly, his fingers tangling in Louis' hair. "You left so abruptly."

"I could not stay there, precious, not with him treating me like a juvenile."

"He is king." Harry reasoned. Louis silenced his nonsense with another kiss, pushing his body against Harry's completely. "I fear someone will find us," Harry gasped into his mouth, his eyes shut in pleasure as Louis pressed a kiss to his neck, his hand sneaking under the layers of his frock, already finding the omega wet for him.

"Since when do you fear someone else's eyes on you, pretty love? You do not have to put on a mask in my presence." His mouth shut Harry's whimper as he plunged two fingers into him, relishing the moist warmth of his vice. Harry's scent grew headier, leg hiked around Louis' middle. Louis knew none of their families would leave the hall for another half hour, neither did any of his servants ever dare to walk into the west wing without being summoned.

He needed Harry like an antidote. A soothe to his howling rage.

"I will ruin my attire, Lou, not here, not in this state."

"I can feel how wet you are, beloved, how you are tightening around my fingers with the fear of them leaving you empty." Louis' tongue ran along Harry's earlobe as the omega clutched onto Louis like a fleeting hope, crying softly while Louis' hand moved under the skirt of his frock. "You love it, do you not? The ceaseless need to have me closer to you, doing things that I truly should not. It is as though you are in heat, my precious, except it is how you are each day."

He was truly beautiful. An angel fallen from the sky above, ruined by lust. His cries were melodies, breaths warm like passion, eyes shut and head tilted as though in prayer. He was boneless, at Louis' mercy, and Louis wished for nothing else but to make him his.

☽

Harry and him were destined to be each other's. At least that was what Louis loved to believe. He had the memory of the squirming infant in his mother's arms engraved in his heart, the first glimpse of his malachite eyes, the faint whimper; all of it had captured his four-summers-old self's heart. They grew up together. Harry and him. With Louis' father and Harry's being close companions, Louis got to spend his summers with them in his mother's maiden castle, playing with Harry despite the prominent age gap.

He knew Harry was something of a precious jewel, for he never paid much thought to the rest of the Styles pups.

Their juvenile days did come to an end with Harry's fourteenth nameday and the earthshattering revelation that Leah had no intentions of taking the throne. Louis' entire being had turned like soil being plowed, from being sent away for more appropriate academia to being polished till his skin bled. He hated every second of it, but most of all he hated being away, of having to spend his summers with a tutor than with his beloved precious.