(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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Harry's fingers curl over Louis' fist like a vice as they enter the town of Yenshai, the briskness of civilisation evident after miles of dense forest and complete reticence apart from the faint chirps of birds or the beasts that reside inside the profundity of wise trees.
The town of Yenshai is unlike what the town of Chambriath had looked like. The mundanity of the tall buildings, glum faces or the spiteful tongues of the people walking the grounds of Yenshai is a complete contrariety to what Harry had been familiarised to. The old walls stain with age and dirt, scratches and dents of rebellion and violence conspicuous on them.
Though archaic, the architecture contains an occult sense of beauty. A beauty so tragic and dark with its tall towers desisting the sun's rays from touching the ground of Yenshai; a shadow cast forevermore, and carved edges and walls and alleys depicting history with the town mourning in the wake of its long-resting ancestors.
Cartwheels and pedestrians walk in acrimony, merchants' words mixing with the peasants', the neighs of horses blurring in the haze of anarchy as the town buzzes with the trade of goods and anything that can provide one with some value. Harry cowers at the sight of the crowded streets, caving himself into his alpha's chest and attempting to be as discreet as he can to steal a whiff of the prince's scent.
He whimpers when a hound, larger than Harry had ever come across, starts to bark at them, Vulcan's restless whines trailing behind. He wishes to mount Vulcan and ease his distress more than anything, but with the vicious gazes that are upon him, he labours to shrink himself smaller and hide in the warmth of his alpha.
Louis sits atop his stallion, chin high and eyes colder than ice as he spares a glance at the pedestrians with an arm around Harry's waist and the other clutching the reins. Harry watches, bewildered by the amount of dominance Louis has over his beast, controlling the reins with a single arm and yet going smoother than Harry and Vulcan ever can.
"Fear not, my love," Louis whispers against Harry's ears, the warmth of his breaths tickling his skin and a whimper emitting from within Harry as the alpha nips his earlobe before placing a kiss. "They will not harm you."
"But their eyes," Harry mumbles, achingly moving his lips, not wishing for the people to read his words. "Their eyes are filled with disgust, my prince. I shouldn't have ridden with you, or Vulcan. I shouldn't have come." Louis growls behind him, the arm around Harry's waist bringing him closer while Louis' scent intensifies around Harry.
"You are mine and anyone who opposes your presence here is opposing mine," Louis says, never stopping their moments. Harry submits to his alpha, refusing to utter a word and losing himself in the heady scent of patchouli and sandalwood with a faintness of vanilla. The whispers rise as they dive deeper into the town, huts of a variety lying on either side of the street and people wedging near them.
They do not halt until they reach the Town Hall, the Earl anteriorly awaiting their arrival at the archway along with guards of the Town Hall. Harry does not miss the darkness that eclipses the Earl's eyes when they fall on Harry, a minimal scowl shadowed by his thick moustache. Louis remains unfazed, his fingers ghosting over the side of Harry's waist and rubbing it with gentleness as the rest of the party halt, too.
