Malachite | L. S [Completed]

19: His Coquette

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☽

Tears froze as the winds screeched miserably outside the safeness of their carriage.

Louis' heart thumped with each drum of the hooves of the horses hitting the path that carried them towards the bane of their misery. Harry sat silently, dressed as though for a wake, a hand clutching Louis' and the other the cross that rested atop his chest. It felt an awful lot akin to attending a funeral, albeit the mourning was for their short-lived peace than that of their own blood.

"Say something," Louis pleaded, having not heard his beloved speak for hours now. He watched as Harry gulped, his malachites lost in the scenery that changed through the little window. Harry had not uttered a whisper since Louis had bestowed him with the knowledge of their travels. "Beloved, please."

Harry's eyes fluttered before he rested them entirely, stretching his neck as he threw his head back and sighed from the depth of his insides. Louis could smell how terrified his love was, how the saccharine blooms of his scent had cracked into a tremoring bitterness.

When Louis had made Harry aware of the news, his bride had hauntingly gone still before sparing him a lifeless nod and disappearing into the Duchess' chambers. Louis had not dared to speak to him for hours and hours, and when the morrow came with a hollow-eyed Harry walking towards him with his lady maid attending to his baggage, the omega had only kissed him longingly before stepping into their carriage.

Louis wished to scream. However, he knew it would merely hurt his lungs than those he truly desired to burn. So he gulped the lump that had formed in his throat, holding Harry's hand tighter in search of comfort. It was silent save their breaths as Louis watched his mate rest, the lace of his gown a stark contrast to his alabaster skin, curls tickling his cheeks.

Louis knew Harry was not asleep, could tell from the way his fingers trembled as they attempted to find comfort in the locket. Exhaling, Louis ran his thumb across Harry's melancholic, naked knuckles. "You must know I shall burn the fingers that attempt to touch you, or cut the tongue that speaks ill of you. Harry, words fall short to express how disabled I feel to not avoid this but you must only fear the blood that will be on my hands and nothing else."

To respond, Harry squeezed Louis' hand and blinked his eyes open, terrified and helpless, looking at Louis for moments until the wordlessness crept onto Louis and wrapped its hand around his throat, starving him of a free breath. He was afraid to blink, to miss a moment and find Harry's eyes resting again, but the air split as the sky outside shifted to the sight of stray stars and his omega claimed his lap.

The discomfort was evident for the both of them in the compactness of the carriage but when Harry clung to Louis as though in desperation for the sense of safety, Louis wrapped his arms around him and held his mate so close that their hearts thumped together, allowing the omega to scent him and remain as he wished.

"I love you so much, my precious, and no relation in this world shall hold me back from thrusting a knife in their heart to guard you."

☽

"We have arrived, your Royal Highness." Louis fought the painful spell of sleep as he blinked his eyes open, met with the sight of Sir Raynfyre standing by the door of their carriage that now remained wide open and the trudge of the horses at halt. He realised he was laying down, his head cradled in Harry's lap while the omega used his head to rest a book he was indulging himself in.

"What hour is it?" His voice was rough and his eyes burning. The outside of the carriage was eerily cold and still as Louis stole a glance at the darkness, the lamps of the Royal Keep burning along with the silence of the night.