Malachite | L. S [Completed]

7: Princess

Louis balled his fist, the blunt edges of his nails digging into the flesh of his palm, eyes alert of his omega stumbling beside him, uncaring of the commonality awaiting their arrival outside the high walls of the palace.

"Stay still," Louis spat, his grip harsh on his bride's waist. The omega paid no heed to the stiffness in his tone, giggling a drunkard's giggle as he tripped for the umpteenth time. "Harry, this is no child's farce."

"I am a-afraid you were the one who f-failed to u-understand that, dear h-husband."

"Just," Louis breathed in, unable to tame his rage. "Remain mum. I shall address the city while you stand still. Do you understand?"

"No."

It had occurred to Louis that albeit his love for Harry outweighed all of the world's existence, his patience seemed more of an enemy than a sister in relation to that love. His patience was thin, a contrast to his deep, dense love, and his patience was a fox who knew of no softness when it came to embarrassment in front of what was to be his people in a few months' time.

Patience, Louis learned, was to akin to fire: uncontrollable.

"For fuck's sake, omega, I do not have a moment to spare on your immaturity. All I ask, all the crown asks, is for you to keep mum and allow me to address these fucking people that are awaiting their future fucking monarchs." His skin blazed with rage as he gripped the flesh of Harry's arms, the silk of the sleeves soft in contradiction to his rough grip. "Smile when you must and do not utter a single word."

"You do not scare me." Harry retaliated in a sneer, his gaze hard as he challenged Louis. The roar of the crowd outside buzzed ahead of them as they reached the final set of stairs, the guards spectators to their scene.

"My beloved," Louis chuckled as he glanced at the cloudless sky, sun gleaming over the coastal capital. When he turned, Harry had spared him his scrutiny. "You do not know me." 

"I think I do." Louis held their gaze as the omega neared him by a step, his stale breath fanning against Louis'. Bewitching were his malachite eyes. "You are nothing but a scheming cunt."

"Name me whatever you deem suits me best, but none of your crude words will refute the fact that I am your husband, the future King, and you, my precious, are to be the Queen to sit beside me."

"You are not the King yet, do not allow the power to cloud your mind, dearest."

"My prince, your arrival is being anticipated deeply." Louis huffed out a breath as the guard interrupted them. He was aware how foolish it must appear; two recently wed quarrelling like juveniles.

"Shall we, my beloved?" Louis was not anticipating an answer, and he knew Harry was aware of that. He held the omega's arm, clutching it as though a guard it's prisoner, pulling him up the stairs and towards the view of an ocean of people, roaring cheers and congratulations.

He felt the omega pierce his skin with his nails, a protest of some sort even in the slightest manner.

Louis loved him for that fierceness.

"You are gathered here to witness the first glimpse of two united souls." The head of the royal guards spoke in a voice that roared through the towers even near the city gate, his head high and armour shining against the heat of the sun. Louis held Harry with a grip firm, a harsh reminder for him to hold back his tongue and actions.

The crowd erupted in cheers as Louis waved with his left hand, looking down at the gathering. The head guard continued, "his royal highness, Prince Louis William Tomlinson, the named heir to the throne and the Four Kingdoms, and the Duke of Dirthfall. By his side, his bride, Princess Harold Edward, son to Lord Samuel Jeremy Styles, and the Duchess of Dirthfall. May their reign be just as fruitful as the King, his majesty Alfred's. Long live the King."