(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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☽
The painful first ray of dawn pierces through the thin skin of Harry's eyelids, causing the enceinte omega to muffle a groan against his alpha's chest. A tingle rushes through him with the realisation that he is in the arms of his alpha, after uncountable days of being denied of this tangibility, he is, at last, able to revel in it. A dear feeling it is, the alpha's subconscious hands finding their way towards his belly, his breaths even. Harry allows a sigh out that he had been caging within him ever since the day Louis began drifting away from him.
No, he hasn't yet forgiven the alpha for his wrongdoings — nor does he deem that he will in the nearing days — but it is only that his weak heart greeds for more after being deprived of his alpha's affection. "Alpha," he breathes out barely, nosing his inviting, gold-dusted skin. His heaven-crafted jaw moves as Harry begins scenting him without an ounce of shame, determined to mark him as his again. In a state as vulnerable, it is only primal of him to do the aforementioned.
"My love," the rasp of his alpha draws him out of his need-driven state, a strong arm caging him. He hisses with the brush of the alpha's hard chest against his tender breasts, the crude reality befalling. "I reckon it will be wise for you to rest more. I will have the physician check you."
"No," Harry whines, moving further into the warmth of his husband. He kisses under Louis' jaw, nipping on it slowly. His omega purrs with the satisfaction of having his mark on the alpha, also with his scent all over him. "I wish to stay with you for the entirety of the day. I shall not take a refusal."
"Are you forgetting who's the alpha, sweet thing?"
"I am not, but seems as though you've forgotten how to treat your omega." The look of grief flashes over Louis' features as the older of the pair goes still, sombre eyes and lips sealed in guilt. Harry does not take back the words he just spoke, for he knows the weight of truth they hold. It is true; albeit having a different purpose, Louis did treat him poorly, and no amount of apology will heal a wound that deep any day soon.
"Why don't I request the chefs to bring us our morrow's meal here, and have Jaime take over the duties for me?" Louis asks after a sickening silence. Harry nods with a lost mind, his undeniable need for the alpha's presence lost somewhere. "Would you like some lemon cakes, my love?"
"I'd love some, alpha," Harry answers, helping himself to sit up. He gulps down a tear when the ache in his back begins to throb again, lined by the pull in his lower belly. "Would you call for Liam, please?"
"Certainly."
☽
"Will you like more pillows, Harry?" Harry only manages to nod through a pained contort on his face, breathing through his nose as the unease intensifies rapidly. Louis' explained the entire day's duties to Jamie somewhere in the manor while Liam's by his side, pressing his swollen ankles with oiled palms. Liam shouts for some omegas to bring him pillows, pressing the underside of Harry's feet with the heel of his palm. Harry moans out in relief, Liam's hands being blessed with magic, and the pillows comforting him.
