The hall clamoured with the chaos of the morrow, his father's laughter roaring. Louis walked with his nose high, like a prince should as he was taught, nodding when the servants greeted him, and making his presence known with a clear of his throat. As ever, silence fell with every gaze on him, but his found the prettiest of green, looking at him with mischief twinkling in them.
"Good morrow, Father, Duke Styles. Everyone." He wished, walking to place himself next to Harry. The table resumed its chatter as Louis brushed his palm against Harry's thigh, the accusation in Leah's eyes not going unnoticed by his eyes.
"You are awfully late, Louis William, no future king mocks their time." His father scowled, his old eyes holding a sour gaze with him when Louis turned towards him.
"Good thing I am not king yet, am I, father?" Louis spat, gesturing for a glass of juice. He felt Harry's hand on his knee, a soothing rub that pulled out a sigh from Louis. It was too damn early for a quarrel, he pondered. "Good morrow to you," he twisted his neck away from the king and towards Harry, offering him a suggestive smile. The omega's cheeks bloomed, wishing him back in a whisper. He was truly an artist, playing the role of an easily flustered, unwed omega in the bright of the day.
"Good morrow, your royal highness," came from beside Louis, her voice shrill and conceited. Louis bit back a groan of displeasure, nodding to acknowledge Duke Styles' eldest daughter, Elizabeth, a crooked-nosed omega that seemed to have no relation with Harry at all save their surnames. Louis was not one to shame someone for their lack of beauty, but the omega was a snob in Louis' judgement, a desperate, little thing who wished to charm Louis. Tragic he was already lured by her youngest brother.
"Will you be joining us for the hunt, son?" Small talk. Louis despised it. Yet he smiled, like a prince should, like a future king should, turning his head towards Samuel, Harry's father. He gently shook his head, biting into his toast. "Pray tell, son, why won't you?"
"I wish I could, your grace, but I have a prior engagement. A prince must keep his word, should he not, dearest father?"
"And what must that engagement be?" His father inquired, a brow crooking, as if to mock Louis. Louis swallowed his bite, breathing in and then out, hiding his distaste for the king. Harry's finger's found his, soft as a petal, twining with Louis' under the veil of the table. In the hue of passion, Louis had confessed to his dislikes towards his family while the omega held him like a child, his hands caressing every inch of Louis.
Louis finally lifted his gaze, clearing his throat. "I believe I had promised Harry I would show him mother's new gardens up north, father. I mustn't trade my promise for an afternoon of hunting."
"Very well then," his father mumbled, unable to hide the discontent on his aged face. "And who shall be chaperoning young Styles?"
Both of them remained silent. The question had never arose before, neither of their mothers ever suspecting anything between the two of them. Louis' eyes flickered to Leah, the older alpha turning her gaze away as she sipped her wine. "We have not had a chaperone with us before, father. Harry and I, we have been going there each summer."
"Well, it might not irk you, Louis, but being left alone with an unbonded alpha will only taint an unwedded, young omega's image among the people. Do you wish upon him shame?"
"But, father, we have always --"
"Harry has reached an age for marriage--"
"I do not see how that is relevant. Him and I have always remained unchaperoned--"
"Quiet, boy!" His father roared, fist landing on the table as everything tremored. Silence fell upon the many faces, every eye on the king while Louis balled his fists, holding Harry's hand tighter. "You shall take Elizabeth as Harry's chaperone or you shall not go altogether. And for you, Harry, you should have known better than to agree on going alone with an alpha."
"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.
The vigorous training made Louis question if he had ever done anything right. A future king's walk was not similar to his, a future king did not use the tongue he did, a future king did not breathe the same way, a future king was nothing Louis was. But poor Louis, he had no one else to pass the throne onto unlike his sister. So he was hammered and carved and forced into the mould of a future king.
He should have had a memorial for his true self, for it was killed in the hands of his own kin.
And when he returned, remembering nothing of his past life but his precious, half a decade gone in the wake of his miseries, Louis returned to the Cresther Castle for the summer, eyes refusing to meet anyone but his precious'.
But he had not seen him at all that day, and by nightfall his mother had thrown a ball in his welcome. Gold flew in the air with liquor and laughter, unfamiliar faces swirling, morphing from one to another, yet no traces of his beloved precious. He had walked the gardens with a fickle glass of brandy, steps already faltering before his eyes fell upon him under the moonshine.
His precious was no longer the plump little thing with a crown of fluffy curls, rather he was a grown omega with a lean frame, waist accentuated with a corset and gown the shade of the sky. He was taller now, and he was the inspiration of the many poets who had their hearts shattered.
"Precious," he had breathed, unable to look away. "You've grown, my sweet precious."
"And you remain the same, my prince," he had giggled out, his cheeks were rosy with the wine, steps disgraceful as he stumbled towards Louis, embracing him. "Oh how my heart longed to play with you. Are you aware that no one played with me ever since your departure? You were my true companion, my prince, and your absence was quite deafening."
"Why were you not in the hall? I have been searching for you since my feet touched the ground of Cresther." He had watched the omega smile, a flirtatiousness in it.
"Were you?" He had sang, fingers tracing the sharpness of Louis' jaw, his stale breathe against Louis' own, lips mere inches away. "I had hoped to be at your arrival but Nicholas-- no, was it Herbert? Jonathan? I do not recall clearly, but one of those were- were keeping me busy, I s'pose. I apologize, though," and that night, as Harry had embraced him again deeply, Louis smelt the foul scent of another alpha on him, and of the deed they had done. "You have my word, my prince, I shall only be with you from this moment on."
That night, as Louis had felt the final remnant of his past self -- his love for Harry -- shatter, he took the omega for the very first time in the murky edge of the garden. It was not anything of the love filled union he had always hoped for, rather he was claiming what was his with a broken heart. Harry was not his, but Louis could pretend he was when they were tied together and the omega clutched onto him like a true lover. He could pretend his heart was never there.
He could pretend he was not in love with the omega.
He still pretended he was not in love with his beloved precious even after the many moons.
☽
"You did not have to pack us a picnic, precious." Louis had one arm locked with Harry while the other held the hefty basket, walking the dew soaked trail towards his mother's gardens. Harry giggled softly, his cheeks rosy, getting closer to Louis so he could shed Louis with his umbrella too. Louis was not one to complain when the sharp whiff of Harry's scent hit him again, their breaths almost dancing together with the proximity. He truly wished to mount him behind a rock. Or scream his love for him on a hill top. Neither was possible.
Harry was clad in white, his silken gloves gently brushing against Louis' cheeks every once in a while. Louis feared for his frock being ruined by the mud, too darling on Harry to be not worn again, but the omega walked with no care, ever so slightly glancing at Louis. Louis' heart fluttered each time, forgetting of the ache in his arms with the heft of the basket, of the duties and the promises, of everything else but Harry.
"I am quite aware you have not eaten a morsel more than that meagre bite of bread. Now we can eat in peace, with no one to mock you." As though on purpose, Elizabeth popped behind them, huffing as evidence of her hasting to catch up with them. Louis breathed out a curse, gently pulling Harry closer to him. Harry rolled his eyes under the veil of the umbrella before twisting his neck around to throw her a glance. "Hello there, sister, are you quite enjoying the walk?"
"It is a spectacular sight, I must give his royal highness that," her faux tone and her empty personality had always miffed Louis. He opted to not engage in any conversation, merely nodding to her as his steps sped up, eager to leave her behind once again. Why must his father be so cruel? "Do you quite enjoy botany yourself, your royal highness?"
"I am afraid it is entirely my mother, lady Elizabeth." He enjoyed picking up the flowers with Harry when they were younger, enjoyed that feeling of making the omega a rusty crown out of them and watching him wear them as though encrusted with jewels. But a future king was not to engage in such fooleries. He loved botany a lifetime ago. He craved that life to be his now, to be free of the duties and commitments, to wander around in the meadows with Harry, picking flowers for him.
"Oh, that's quite alright. A prince shan't get filth on his hands." There it was. What he was and he wasn't supposed to do, from the mouth of another who had no notion of what Louis was or wanted.
"I fear you are quite dull, dearest sister. Don't you know what goes on in the battle fields?" Harry had that lilt again, a slight hint of mockery behind the mask of grace, his eyes sly as he glanced at her through their corners. Louis knew Harry was defending him, he had a tinge of furore that he was containing. "You are almost to be married any day now, I suggest you improve your intelligence."
"With that mouth, I fear no one will ever marry you." Her words were bitter, a scowl on her unhandsome face. Louis was well aware of how much she despised Harry, from his age to his beauty, especially for his proximity with Louis. Envy was one of the most unattractive trait in a person, and Elizabeth was drowning in it.
"I hear there are plenty who are dying to even meet him, lady Elizabeth," Louis spat, his fingers tracing the skin above Harry's gloved arms. He hated the sound of it, someone else marrying his precious but he needed to defend his honour. Elizabeth's face twisted. "A list of suitors is not something pr- Harry must worry about."
"I did not mean to be rude." She mumbled at last. Both him and Harry were aware she meant none of those words, and neither of them cared. Then her eyes were on Louis again, her eyes morphing innocence and lashes fluttering. "Will you show me around too, your royal highness? I have never been to a single garden of the queen's."
Heavens no.
"Why not, Lady Elizabeth, of course," said the future king in him as he offered her a weak smile, never letting go of Harry's arm or offering her his own.
☽
Thoughts?
Also I forgot to mention this one's gonna be dirty asf since its kinktober 😔