I Sail With You | l.s.

Chapter 2

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The next morning Harry wakes with glossy eyes and wet cheeks. It seems he'd been crying in his sleep. Today is the day of his voyage, off to Italy where he'll be spending the rest of his life with his betrothed. If Harry had the means, he'd find a way to run away, but where was there for him to go? He'd be robbed of his clothes and money the minute anybody saw him outside the castle's gates. Even worse, he could be captured and sold as a slave to horrifyingly cruel people he doesn't even want to imagine.

He had no one that he knew, that could help him with this either. Nobody on the outside that could help him blend in. Nobody that could provide him a place to stay while he gets himself back on his feet. He was alone in this. Completely, and tragically alone.

"Harry, are you ready?"

Sulking at the edge of his bed, Harry peers up to his father standing in front of the door. At first glance, he appears indifferent, but upon further inspection the Omega comes to the tiniest hint of remorse shining in his eyes. Harry understands all too well - he has to sustain his dominance as the Alpha King, and openly showing sympathy for his Omega son is not in the rule books.

Harry exhales dramatically, audibly displaying his disinclination, "I suppose. There is nothing else I can do."

"This is meant to be the most joyous part of your life, son. You would be wise to start believing it as such."

"Yes, father," Harry mumbles dejectedly.

Rising up from the bed, the Prince leads the way out of his room, traveling mournfully along the corridors of his home. While he has the opportunity to do so, he takes everything in one last, final time. The look of the cream marble that shines below his feet, the feel of the melancholy atmosphere as it hugs against his chest, the smell - the smell of his family, of the garden filled with sunflowers out in the back, the smell of his childhood racing down these halls. It's everything he's ever known, and he's veering on the edge of his weakness, close to falling at his knees with how distraught he is. Maybe if Harry grips onto something they'll leave him be? Maybe if he clasps on just tight enough? Maybe if he holds onto the walls, the furniture, the memories, and refuses to let go - maybe then, they would let him stay?

Why did this have to happen to him?

Why did he have to become an Omega?

Harry's body is on autopilot as he carries himself to the front entrance hall of their castle. He should be lifting his chin up high, strolling with pride in his step, but there is nothing he is proud of today. Eventually, he can see his mother and sister as they stand to the side, by the grand staircase in the foyer. Harry doesn't stop despite his heart literally pounding at him to do so, because he knows the minute that he does, he won't be able to get his legs to move again.

As he continues to stroll ahead, ignoring all else within his surroundings, he can hear his father call out, "I will be back in two weeks time."

Harry doesn't hear a response, but he's sure his mother and sister hardly care about how long it will take for his father to return. Because either way, no matter if it's tomorrow, two weeks, or a month - he's returning without the Prince. Without Harry.

The brisk morning air can't compare to the tundra of the Omega's heart.

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The Omega Prince had never been on a boat before yesterday, and to say it was horrible would be a vast understatement. Harry's motion sickness had him in bed all day, unable to even sit up, let alone walk along the deck. Since he had woken up from his slumber this morning, he had felt slightly better, but not great by any means. However, he was okay enough to move this time. Which was a positive, considering he was direly hungry.