(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 walks on the pavement covered in snow, Jaime by his side along with the royal guards following behind as they patrol the North of Yenshai, the small cluster of the Durgen civilisation welcoming them with candescent smiles despite of the melancholic winter. He traces the aged bricks with the tip of his fingers, darkened with its knowledge of centuries, yet strong and holding the ancient huts as they have for a millennial. He eyes the pups who are watching him with interest, shivering and hiding in the warmth of their mothers, while Louis continues to abide by his duty and inspect the state of the march.
It is not one bit facile for him to be away from Harry, especially when his omega is carrying his pup and is in his fourth month. It aches him, filling his mind with worry and heart with sorrow, to think that he is not near Harry to provide him with his minutest need. He wonders if he has eaten, or if he has someone to rub his back just as Louis does before he heads to bed. Although only a day and a half's journey, Louis can not help his yearning mind. He needs his omega just as the omega needs him.
He exhales as they mount the horses after rounding the entirety of the march, the thick steam of his breath in the winter air almost giving him an illusion of a raging dragon while Detyre huffs, his hooves clicking against the cleared cobblestone path. "Good lad," Louis praises, his glove-protected palm caressing the back of the stallion's neck as he waits for the rest of the assemblage to mount their horses.
"It was a pleasure to have you, your royal highness," the Marquess of Durgen, Phillip Hendon, expresses as he and his councilmen gather to bid Louis farewell, the majority of the civilisation scattered around the entrance. "I hope you and your Omega have a faithful year ahead. Long live Enshire."
"I'd like to express my deep gratitude towards the people of Durgen for the lovely welcome, lord Hendon, it was truly pleasing to witness how well you have been handling everything. Enshire shall be forever grateful." Louis offers the marquess a smile, the sturdy alpha mirroring it as the lines of his age enhance in the dim daylight, his rough beard long and eyes the colour of smoke. "Farewell, lord Hendon. Long live Enshire." He says before turning Detyre around and beginning their journey back, the long path merging with a thick curtain of mist.
Up north, the weather is harsher with the constantly cloud-covered mountain tops and the inevitable rain. He is grateful for the reconstruction of the road last summer, for they do not have to fear the steep ends of the mountainous terrain. He barely sees anything in front of him, even the thickest cloak in his chest unable to shield him from the glacial winds.
"Do you reckon we'll be able to reach the manor by nightfall, Jaime?" Louis asks as the Alpha valet rides his horse beside him, their guards following them behind. Louis' right arm aches with the weight of the fire torch he is holding, albeit day, the dim, misty sky blurs their vision, the spell of winter disallowing them to make out anything further than a few yards' distance. He switches his hand as his right holds the reigns now while the left lifts the torch.
