Malachite | L. S [Completed]

8: Pretence

[Dirthfall ^]

☽

Dirthfall stood tall in its gloom.

Louis had his dukedom memorised like a prayer and yet each time it seemed to shift as though nothing but a mystical illusion cast by a wizard. The trail was narrow as the carriage tremored with each step taken by the horses, and by the side was the sharp end of the cliffs, giving way to an abyss of dark and mist.

Louis could eye the tall tower of his castle peeking through the dense clouds of the mountains, the steep path finally nearing the bloom of the Crying Gods' Forest. Harry had fallen into a grave slumber two hours ago, his body resting against Louis' stiff frame.

Louis could not decipher what the omega wished for. For a moment he resented the air Louis breathed and then, as slumber coaxed him into unconsciousness, Louis was all he craved.

Louis attempted to push him away at the initial sense of Harry's heft on his shoulder but his attempt seemed futile when Harry snaked his arms around Louis', capturing him in a firm clutch, leaving him with a vehemently beating heart.

Louis had been the Duke of Dirthfall for a remarkable amount of time now, and he realised his return would only be welcomed by a ginormous crowd, especially given the knowledge that he was returning with his bride, the Duchess of Dirthfall.

It took them another hour of a tedious journey to finally reach the gates of the castle, of which half an hour had merely been stops being made for Louis to greet the dwellers of Dirthfall. The horses shrieked as the carriage halted for the final time.

Looking down, everything finally a tranquil silent, Louis eyed his omega sleeping on his shoulder, his cheeks squished against Louis' firm flesh. He looked rather youthful, a vision from the past that had a fire building inside Louis. He had only ever loved Harry, not known a life where he was not in love with him, and being aware that the omega hated him so passionately was a wound that ran deeper than Louis' sorrows.

"Your Royal Highness, we have arrived." Louis heard his steward speak through the shut door of their carriage, the chatter of chaos buzzing lightly. Louis inhaled firmly, knowing he had to wake Harry, knowing his precious was going to display his utmost displeasure.

"We will be joining you shortly, Remond," Louis answered back before facing Harry again, admiring the fleeting moments. He sighed, brushing some fierce strands of curls away from his serene face, his thumb caressing the bone of Harry's cheek by nature. "Prec--Harry, wake up."

Harry grumbled incoherently for a few moments until he settles to let go of Louis and slump down on the padded seating of the carriage. "Leave me inside, go ahead without me." He slurred in the haze of sleep.

"They are present here to welcome us," Louis sighed, pulling the omega up. "They are here to greet you as their Duchess and the future Queen."

"I asked for none of it." Harry fell against Louis' chest, and had it not been for Louis holding his body, Harry would have been on the hard floor of the carriage. "Why must you vex me with each opportunity you get."

"I am doing no such thing," Louis defended himself, pulling the omega to keep him upright as he placed a hand on the handle of the carriage, Harry's strong scent intoxicating. "Do not accuse me of foolish acts. Now waken yourself and behave."

"I do not serve you." The growl that left Harry's lips was sanguinary, tearing himself away from Louis with such force that Louis feared his precious had hurt himself. Albeit, he kept mum, watching Harry treat his touch akin to a disease. "Order me again and I shall slice that scheming tongue of yours."