(Fictional a/b/o Elizabethan era-ish au)
Being an omega and the fifth in line for the title, the young lord of Chambriath was forced to believe that being wedded to the man of his father's choice and bearing his children was the only purpose of Har...
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Louis wakes up to the sweet hints of nectarine and honey, a warmth pressed against his skin and the intruding sun's rays peaking through the flowing curtains. Unable to feel his arm due to the weight of his omega over it, sleeping peacefully curled into Louis' chest, Louis sighs contently at the comfortable feeling of waking up another in his bed.
Not wishing to disrupt Harry's sleep, Louis opts to stay unmoving, his numb arm screaming for movement. With a lazed yawn escaping past his lips, Louis' eyes struggle against the harsh rays of the sun, burning brightness blinding his sight. Harry whimpers in protest when a mischievous beam dares to rive his slumber, lean limbs curling and protecting himself from the bothersome announcement of daybreak as his face finds comfort in the safeness of Louis' chest.
Smiling, Louis wonders if the omega will react in a similar manner if he were in a state of consciousness. Would he hold Louis just as close or will he shy away like the true maiden he is? He's not a maiden though, not anymore. He is Louis' omega, his other half.
"It's alright, love, go back to sleep, darlin'." Louis lulls when Harry whimpers in irritant, the rays only increasing and testing the omega's thin patience. Harry groans again, burying his face in the crook of Louis' neck, inhaling deeply with a sigh of satisfaction, his curls veiling him from the invading light as they tickle Louis' skin.
"I don' wan' to wake up," he mumbles, words slurring in the haze of slumber and replete lips tenderly moving against Louis' skin as he speaks as though a pup. Louis ponders whether Harry had a blithe juvenescence. Whether he got a taste of freedom; running around in the gardens and meeting people of a variety, speaking his mind without a care. He reminisces about his own self, a younger soul exploring the lands as far as they stretched, no one to obstruct him and his mind of curiosity.
His heart aches at the thought of Harry being forced into academia, told what to do and being trained from a tender age. Louis is no fool, he knows too well of the gruesomeness of the world around him, and is educated enough on the cruel means used on an omega child—especially of the nobility—to hammer them into society's view of a perfect omega, akin to a prized jewel polished to attract the highest bidding patron. He has heard and even witnessed omegas being deprived of their toddlerhood, being chained to the restrains of etiquettes and looks from an early age.
With Harry's face on the brink of manhood, cheeks still chubby from adolescence, Louis wishes he will feel free with him. That he gets a taste of what had been snatched away from him even before he learnt its true value.
"Is something bothering you, my Prince?"
Louis looks down at Harry's wide eyes, their colour resemblant of a forest, staring at Louis with traces of concern through his long lashes. Louis smiles at his callowness yet poor endeavour at being mature, struggling to act years ahead of his age.
"It's nothin', love," Louis assures. The delicate skin of Harry's cheek turns a shade of rubicund at the realisation of the proximity between the latterly married pair. Louis has none of it when Harry shies away just like he had envisioned, his arm locks around Harry's slender waist, keeping him in place and engulfs his body from behind with his own. "Don't be shy, darling. We've got an eternity to live together, can't have you shying away every daybreak."
