Archive of Our Own

~ 1816 ~

It had been the first day of spring. 

That was what Louis recalled most of the day when his aunt, the Marchioness of Camden, informed him that he was engaged. 

She told him during breakfast, slipping it in between bites of her honey cake so casually that Louis nearly missed it. However, the words were unmistakable. Louis heard engaged and froze in his seat. 

Perhaps he should have anticipated it. For as long as Louis has known her, Lady Margaret Tomlinson has had two aspirations for the remaining years of her life. The first was to out-dress the Duchess of Kent at every soirée and gathering. The second was to marry off her omega nephew to the most honorable – and highly ranked – alpha suitor she could find. It was never going to be Louis’ own choice, but it’d be his duty anyway. For years he had known this, doing his best to stall and slunk through every one of the lady’s calculated schemes. 

Despite knowing that eventually Lady Margaret would tire of his opposition and make a final decision, Louis had always felt very detached from the prospect of marriage. He never experienced his debut, nor actively participated in a season, and he knew he’d never get to. He was one and twenty, quickly approaching the end of what were universally acknowledged as an omega’s “prime years.” Some part of him hoped that his aunt would give up eventually – that she’d see how Louis was clearly a lost cause and could never bring her the honor and privilege she sought.

Now, as Louis stared at his aunt and harsh twist of her lips, he understood how much he greatly underestimated her. “Who?” he said when he was able, his voice so soft it might as well have been a whisper. Internally, his mind tripped over itself trying to conjure every possible contender. There was the Earl of Berkshire, whom Louis had endured several tedious conversations with. The Viscount Beauchamp, who had a habit of staring at Louis’ neck far too much over their multiple luncheons. There were more: earls, viscounts, and barons alike. Lady Margaret had even pushed him toward the divorced Duke of Norfolk who recently inherited his title, but Lord Howard was truthful about his lack of interest in remarrying from the start – Louis was relieved as the alpha was over fifty. 

Though a myriad of possibilities trickled through his mind, nothing could have prepared him for what Lady Margaret said next.

A slow, self-satisfied smile overtook her brittle face. “His Royal Highness, Prince Harry.” 

Louis thinks back to that moment sometimes, remembering how long it took for the words to sink in – and even longer for the meaning to settle. Prince Harry.

Prince Harry. 

For an extended period of time, Louis was convinced his aunt had deluded even herself this time. The crown prince and heir apparent to the throne? It was preposterous. 

Except, it wasn’t.

Two weeks later, Louis is guided by a butler through the opulent halls of the Carlton House – official residence of the prince – to the crimson drawing room with Lady Margaret by his side. He feels a bit lightheaded, struggling to keep up with his accompaniers’ long strides. His hand is drawn to his fringe more often than not, fussing with it again and again as if it will make a difference in how this encounter will unfold. 

Lady Margaret drapes herself over the first ruby settee, the picture of elegance and practiced grace. Louis’ cheeks flush when he nearly stumbles over his own feet in his haste to sit next to her. He keeps his gaze straight forward, but his aunt’s long-suffering sigh is not unheard. 

The butler informs him that her Majesty, Luna Elizabeth Styles and his Royal Highness, Prince Harry Styles will soon arrive. Louis clasps his hands over his lap, hoping the sweat from his clammy fingers wouldn’t bleed through the silk of his gloves. He’s dressed in his finest Half Dress, a lovely white satin gown with puff sleeves, silver blue threading, and lace trim. His mother’s necklace is cool against the skin of his collarbone. He feels exposed, certain that he appears rigid and pale as he crosses his ankles demurely. 

“Fix your posture,” Lady Margaret hisses to him. 

Straightening his spine and lowering his shoulders from their hunched position, Louis concentrates on maintaining his pattern of breathing. It does little to ease his nerves, panic festering in his stomach. He was about to meet the Luna. 

The Luna, as well as her son, Prince Harry – Louis’ fiancé.   

By the time the butler returns and begins his formal introductions, Louis’ ears are ringing. Her Majesty enters the room as if walking on air, dressed in a gown of pale green with a pleasant smile on her face. He moves entirely on instinct, rising to his feet in tandem with Lady Margaret and dipping into a perfect curtsy. 

“Your Majesty, it’s an honor to be here,” Lady Margaret begins, her voice taking on a sickly sweet quality. 

“Thank you for meeting me, Lady Camden,” Luna Elizabeth responds, before her eyes fall on Louis. “Lady Tomlinson, you are a mirror image of your dear mother, may she rest in peace.” 

Louis only barely stops himself from gaping before societal convention returns to him. He drops into another curtsy, heart thundering in his ears. “Thank you, Your Majesty.” The Luna spoke as if she had been acquainted with his mother, but that couldn’t possibly be. 

The pleasantries continue with no shortage of flattery from her ladyship. Louis remains silent through the conversation, just as Lady Margaret instructed him to. Do not speak unless spoken to. I will not have you endanger everything. Gaze lowered as a show of respect, Louis is not able to see when the crown prince steps into the room behind his mother. However, Louis most certainly smells him. 

Rich tones of oakmoss and hints of clary sage wafts towards him, sinking into his skin. He resists the urge to shiver. As an omega in high society, Louis’ exposure to alphas has always been extremely restricted and extremely limited. His uncle, the Marquess of Camden, Lord Edgar Tomlinson, was a beta, as was their only son, Lord Robert Tomlinson, Earl of Brecknock. In fact, the only alphas Louis has ever been in close proximity to were his father and the various alpha servants employed at their estate, all who were required to mask their scents. 

The shrill voice of his aunt as she introduces both of them pulls him from his reverie. He lifts his head at the uttering of his name, stiffening when his gaze meets the prince’s almost immediately. The prince’s eyes are deep green, gazing at him with a quiet intensity. He’s handsome – of course he is – cutting a tall and broad figure in his navy waistcoat and jacket, silk cravat the same color as the Luna’s gown. He possesses very classical features, all sharp and angled planes. Dark curls frame his face, artfully coiffed on his head. It occurs to Louis during this appraisal that he was staring. Mortified with himself, he hurries to rectify his mistake. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Royal Highness,” he says, dipping into another curtsy as he wills his cheeks not to color. 

“I believe the pleasure is mine, Lady Tomlinson,” the prince responds smoothly. His voice is deep and controlled. 

Louis can almost hear Lady Margaret’s strict voice in his head as he extends his gloved hand shyly. Harry takes it, his palm and fingers a startling contrast in size from Louis’ own, and lifts it to his lips, lips grazing his knuckles in a brief kiss. 

It was the barest of touches, yet it sent a shock of heat through Louis’ body, inner omega preening at the attention. 

“It’s a shame that you two have not met until today,” Luna Elizabeth interrupts, snapping Louis out of his dazed state. “I’ve always known you’d be the perfect match, even before Lady Camden and I first discussed it.” 

Not for the first time, Louis wonders just how long Lady Margaret and Her Majesty had been discussing it. Over the past two weeks, Louis has only grown more and more befuddled as he contemplated the reason for this match. He, along with the rest of London society, would be partaking in this season to choose an omega, but as the season progressed from October to Winter and now Spring, no mention had been made of the prince’s affections. Evidently, Prince Harry had agreed to an arranged marriage, but the reason for Louis being chosen was still beyond him. He hadn’t been a debutante nor had he ever debuted in the first place. He was just the forgotten son of a late marquess. None of it made any sense. 

“Louis is absolutely thrilled to be betrothed to Prince Harry,” Lady Margaret gushes, and Louis resists the urge to flinch. Thrilled is not the word he would use, but he doesn’t voice his thoughts. 

“Harry is thrilled too,” Luna Elizabeth says – generously, Louis is certain. “I’ve regaled him with tales of Dorothea and my adventures many times.” 

Dorothea? Louis’ heart skips a beat at the name. 

“I know the late marchioness regarded you as one of her dearest friends,” Lady Margaret says, and Louis is, once again, absolutely shocked. 

“And I, her,” Luna Elizabeth echoes wistfully. His mother? A dear friend of the Luna? For a moment, Louis feels as if the floor had caved beneath his feet. He had barely known his mother, the omega having passed away shortly after his birth from childbed fever. His father never remarried, and he too passed away not long after Louis’ seventeenth birthday. Although his uncle and aunt took him in as their own immediately, Louis had postponed his debut to society, and then skipped over it altogether. “I know she’d be pleased to hear of this betrothal.” 

“She would,” Lady Margaret said, before sighing softly. “She was a lovely woman.”

A lovely woman, Louis thinks, recalling every instance Lady Margaret had ever criticized everything about Dorothea Tomlinson from her sense of fashion and demeanor to her inability to sire an heir through years of trying. When she finally got pregnant with Louis, it had felt like a miracle had been bestowed upon them all – that is, until he was actually born, and as Lady Maragret liked to make it increasingly clear, and he wasn’t the heir they had craved. Not more than four weeks later, she was gone. Even now, Louis feels the tightening of guilt and shame in his chest, like a vice around his heart. 

“Well, enough reminiscing,” Luna Elizabeth decides, clasping her hands. “If this were a normal courtship, either myself or Lady Camden would have to be present as a chaperone. However, the two of you are technically engaged.” Louis stills at that. “While basic proprietary rules must be respected, I see no issue in Harry accompanying Lady Tomlinson for a scroll in the gardens.”

“How lovely,” Lady Margaret coos. “Lady Louis just adores flowers. He was enchanted by your gifts, sir,” she directs to Harry. 

Louis blushes at that. The first bundle of flowers had been delivered the morning after Lady Margaret revealed his betrothal, a gorgeous arrangement of bluebells and lilies of the valley. Another arrangement arrived every few days, all accompanied by cards addressed to him in crisp handwriting. Louis would be lying if he said he wasn’t enamored, but Lady Margaret pointing it out was embarrassing. 

“I’m glad,” Prince Harry says, before meeting Louis’ eyes. “Will you join me for a walk, my lady?” 

For a moment, Louis pretends that he has a choice in the matter – that he had a choice for any of it. That the prince was courting him for real not because he was obliged to. That he had chosen Louis of his own accord and wanted him the way an alpha wanted their omega. For a moment, Louis pretends that he’s marrying for love, just as he had yearned for all his life, never letting himself voice the thought out loud. The moment ends, and he lets the fantasy fade. His lips curve into his best smile, and he nods. “I’d be happy to, sir.” 

⚜️

Walking through the Royal Gardens feels akin to walking through a dream. 

His Royal Highness offered some words about the different types of flowers they had blooming, but it was clear that his knowledge on the topic was limited. Although Louis recognized them all on his own, he stayed quiet and let the prince speak. He had a lovely voice, Louis found, and he was a perfect gentleman, offering Louis his arm but initiating no other contact. 

He does eventually direct the conversation to Louis, asking him questions about his family and his likes and dislikes. Louis deflects most of them, remembering Lady Margaret’s warnings to listen rather than speak. However, Harry seems almost frustrated by his noncommittal responses, and it makes Louis feel even more inadequate in his presence. 

“I apologize, sir,” he finally says after yet another dismissed question, a slight panic sparking inside him at the thought of Prince Harry deciding he couldn’t possibly tolerate Louis and ending the betrothal. He isn’t sure if such a thing were even possible, but he is the crown prince after all. No rules applied to him. 

“Whatever for?” the alpha says, sounding truly surprised. “And, please, call me Harry.” He offers a smile at that, and Louis’ eyes catch on the dimple that appears on his cheek. 

It takes a moment for the prince’s words to settle in, but once they do, Louis shakes his head. “I couldn’t possibly –”

“I insist,” Prince Harry interrupts, his smile morphing into a smirk. “We are engaged.” 

Louis stills at that. “I suppose you’re right,” he admits after a moment – not that he would intentionally disregard the wishes of the prince otherwise. “I was just apologizing for my vague responses, Harry. I don’t mean to be frustrating.” 

“There’s nothing to be apologized for,” Harry waves him off. “In fact, I apologize. I may be coming on too strong. You don’t have to answer anything if you don’t want to. I must say, however, that I’d be happy to know more about you.” 

“That’s kind of you to say, but I’m afraid there is not much worth knowing,” Louis says, offering a half-shrug. “I’m certain it’d be much more interesting to discuss you.” 

Harry is quiet for a moment, and Louis nearly trips when the alpha stops abruptly. He turns to meet Louis’ confused gaze. “I don’t believe that for a second.” He says it so earnestly that Louis’ heart flutters, just a bit. 

Seeming to contemplate something, Harry begins to walk again. It becomes apparent that he’s leading Louis off the path to a bench where they both take a seat. The footman who had been following them at a safe distance remains on the path but in eye view. “I know the circumstances of our engagement are a bit… inconvenient,” Harry begins, speaking slowly. “Believe me, this is not how I anticipated things going.” Louis grimaces at that, and Harry’s eyes widen. “No, no, I didn’t – I don’t mean that I’m disappointed,” he hurries to say. 

“You don’t have to spare my feelings,” Louis says softly. “I understand that I’m probably not whom you’d choose for yourself.”

“That’s not what I said,” Harry says, frowning as he leans in closer. 

Louis catches another strong whiff of his scent, omega perking up and strengthening his own scent in response. He leans back immediately, cheeks coloring, but not before Harry stills, nostrils flaring. 

He shakes his head. “Louis,” he says, sounding determined. “I agreed to this betrothal because I knew it was the right thing to do – it was my duty as crown prince. But I’ve always wanted a love match, just like my parents had.” 

As Louis listens, his mind naturally conjures the worst possible scenarios: Harry breaking off the betrothal and then Lady Margaret disowning him in disgrace, his reputation as a rejected omega hanging over him forever. Harry informing him now that he intends for them to have a marriage in name only while he goes gallivanting off with a string of mistresses. Or –

“And even though the beginning of our relationship has been decided for us,” Harry continues. “We are in control of the rest. I want to know you, Louis. And one day, I hope to love you.” 

It takes Louis close to a minute to process what the alpha is saying, stunned by the intensity in his voice and the kindness in his eyes. “You… you believe that one day you could love me?” he asks, unable to hide the disbelief from his voice. 

Harry tilts his head, eyes roaming over Louis’ face and lingering over his lips. Louis feels his cheeks grow hot. “Yes, I do,” he says, and the conviction in his voice has Louis ducking his head shyly. 

“I want to do this properly,” Harry adds gently. “Courting you.” 

Louis lifts his chin, frowning. “But we’re already engaged?” 

“We are,” Harry nods. “I believe a full courtship would benefit us anyway.”

“Lady Margaret said we’d be married by summer’s end,” Louis blurts, unable to help himself. It’s what scared him the most: how quickly time passes, how quickly it runs out. 

“No dishonor to her ladyship, but she is not the one to decide when we will be married,” Harry says, amused. “Neither are my parents. It was my only condition when agreeing to this route. We can take it as slow as we want – we have all the time in the world.” He leans in close again – but not too close – and this time Louis doesn’t move. “When, or if we decide to marry, it’ll be because we want to. So what do you say?” 

It sounds preposterous, impossible even, but Louis looks into Harry’s eyes and sees nothing but honesty and pure kindness. Harry is kind, he knows it deep within him. He is kind, and he is offering Louis something unbelievably precious and completely irreplaceable: time. “I think… I think I’d like that,” he says after a pause. 

Harry’s smile is small but radiant. 

⚜️

The seasons shift, and Louis begins to know Harry. 

Not His Royal Highness, Prince Harry Styles, but Harry. Just Harry. 

They go on a lot of walks in Hyde Park, Louis clutching Harry’s arm in one hand and his parasol in the other. They have lunch with the Luna and visit the opera. They drive through the city in an open carriage, and ride on horseback through the countryside every fortnight or more. Harry introduces Louis to his friends including Lord Liam Payne, the Duke of Clarence, who also acted as his frequent sparring partner. In turn, Louis introduces him to Lady Perrie Edwards, his closest and, frankly, only friend. They attend every ball and soirée together where Harry always fills Louis’ dance card with his name, an unspoken announcement that they were engaged. The first time they danced, Louis was stiff and uncomfortable, feeling the stares and scowls burn into his skin from all around. 

“Do not give them the satisfaction of having caught your attention,” Harry had whispered to him, tucking him closer. “All that matters here is you and me.” 

With every dance, Louis pressed closer and closer until one day he channeled his courage and rested his cheek against Harry’s shoulder, preening when Harry only tugged him closer in response. 

Lady Margaret remains smug about accomplishing such a match, of course, although she’s still bitter that they’re actually courting in the first place. The longer you wait, the easier it is for him to lose interest and change his mind. Louis hears that over and over, but while the warning would have once distressed him, all it does now is amuse him. 

She didn’t know Harry. But as summer wilts into autumn, Louis realizes that he does. 

It was easy. Falling for the alpha was entirely too easy. When Harry confides in Louis about the pressure surrounding him as the crown prince and only direct heir to the throne – about his fear of failure and his desire to be the best ruler he can possibly be. When Harry listens to him so attentively, like he wants to hear everything Louis says, no matter how unimportant or frivolous. When Harry sends him flowers or makes him smile – when he makes him laugh. An innumerable amount of different moments telling the story of Louis falling in love with his beloved prince.

He knows Harry feels the same, and can feel it every time Harry looks at him with that softness in his eyes that is not meant for any others. He can feel it when Harry lingers beyond what’s proper when kissing Louis’ knuckles in greeting. He can feel it when Harry begins to refer to him with affectionate endearments: sweetheart, dearest, and darling – sometimes “Omega,” but that one can only whispered. 

The realization that he had fallen for Harry was not a surprising one, but it certainly did not happen quickly. It was a gradual understanding, a bud that blossomed through the seasons as Louis slowly became aware of his feelings as facts. 

Fact: Louis was in love with Harry. 

And fact: he wanted to marry him. 

It appeared that they were on the same page on the matter, and Louis felt giddy with the knowledge that Harry would propose soon and he would say yes. They would mate, and Harry would be his alpha once and for all. 

⚜️

It had been the first day of spring. 

That was what Louis recalled most of the day when His Majesty, King James, collapsed in court. He had spent the morning having tea with the Luna and the ladies of her inner circle, having a spectacular time right until a footman burst into the room and informed them of what happened. 

He remembers his fear when Luna Elizabeth crumpled to the floor, letting out a high whine that would have caused a scandal had she not been surrounded by her most loyal friends. They went all together, a procession of closed carriages down the streets of London to St. James’ Palace, meeting the Royal Physician on the way. It occurred to Louis that the date will forever be cursed in his memory. 

Even so, the majority of what occurred has blurred in Louis’ mind: a series of waiting and worrying that lasted many days. He woke up each morning with a lump in his throat and went to sleep with it every night. He let Harry grip his hand so tight that it burned as they walked through St. James’ Park, trying to present the message that everything was under control to the rest of society. In the end, King James survived. However, he was still ill – still frail – and no one could figure out how to help him. Doctors and physicians from all across the kingdom were called to the palace, each claiming a different sickness and antidote. Louis watched Luna Elizabeth grow more and more distraught, and Harry’s light began to dim. 

It was towards the end of April when the king had been incapacitated for over a month that the Lord Chancellor deemed that the country could not go any longer without an active ruler. On May 1st, Harry stood before representatives from the House of Parliament and House of Lords as he took his oaths and was appointed Prince Regent. 

Louis watched from beside Luna Elizabeth, experiencing several emotions at once. Pride, of course, because he knew Harry would take to his new position wonderfully. But he felt an overwhelming sadness for the alpha who has had his life change dramatically over the course of the past four weeks, an entire kingdom being thrust into his hands far earlier than he had ever intended.

After the de facto coronation, Louis realized just how much things were going to change. He went from seeing Harry nearly every day to having to endure days and even weeks without him as the alpha traveled for royal business. Gone were the days of riding horses and strolls through the gardens. Even when he was home at the Carlton House, most of his days were filled with appointments, luncheons, and visits to court. Louis could never complain, savoring every small minute of time they could spend together. It got a bit harder when it was decided that the king should be moved to Kew Palace, the home he had grown up in and a reprieve from the city where his recovery could hopefully hasten, and Luna Elizabeth chose to leave with him. Harry lost the council of his mother and Louis lost a friend he could lean on, but neither of them could blame her for wanting to be with her alpha. 

And with Harry away, Louis was forced to spend more time at the Tomlinson residence than he ever wished to. Lady Margaret was furious with him for not having married Harry before his father fell ill, and Louis finally began to understand just how little Lady Margaret had ever cared for him. Yes, he knew that the likelihood of a wedding being held in these circumstances were very little, but such a concern felt frivolous in the wake of what had happened to the king and how much Harry had to deal with now. 

“Mark my words, you foolish omega,” she warned him when he informed her that he was content with the current state of their relationship and with the prospect of having to wait even longer than he thought to be married. “He will tire of your dawdling and marry a lady much more suited to the standards of the crown. It is one thing to be rejected by an alpha of high rank, and entirely another to be rejected by the Prince Regent. You will be exiled from society and declared ‘intolerable’ to any alpha. No one wants an intolerable omega, Miss Tomlinson.” The demotion of his rank in her tirade implied what he had already assumed: if he never married Harry, he would be disowned by his aunt and uncle for good. What at one point would have frightened him, now only sparked a fury inside him. 

“So be it then,” he said, knowing that Lady Margaret would never understand the sort of relationship Harry and he had. One based on trust and love that could not easily be broken. “You may not believe it now, but one day I will be Luna of this kingdom,” he vowed. “You will have to bow before me every time I enter a room and defer to me in every conversation. And I will take great joy in your loathing.” 

For the weeks following, neither omega would acknowledge the other’s existence. 

Towards the end of autumn, Harry returns to the Carlton House after a week away where Louis has already been let in to greet him and immediately sweeps the omega up into his arms. Louis breathes in his scent – oakmoss and clary sage – and lets it ground him, letting Harry bury his nose into his neck. Such an act would be too intimate with an audience but all that was present was a lone footman who averted his eyes courteously. 

“I miss you,” Louis allows himself to admit, digging his fingers into the fabric of Harry’s coat. The alpha has made it a habit of sending letters that carry his scent so Louis can breathe them in, pretending that Harry was just beside him rather than far away, but nothing compares to the strength and comfort of his actual scent, washing over him in a sea of calming pheromones. 

Harry presses a chaste kiss to his temple, clutching him tighter. “I miss you more, sweet omega,” he whispers. “But I am pleased to say that I will not have to anymore.” 

Louis stills, lifting his head and peering at Harry curiously. He doesn’t protest when Harry requests for them to visit the garden, taking the alpha’s offered arm easily. 

Although Louis has frequented the gardens many times before, its natural beauty has never lost its luster for Louis’ admiring eyes. He waits patiently as Harry leads him to a familiar bench – one he often pauses to sit and reflect over the direction his life had taken ever since the first time he sat in that spot. They sit there now, albeit much closer than their younger selves had – much more in love. 

“I have just heard from my mother via letter,” Harry begins slowly. Louis directs his attention towards the alpha and quickly realizes his eyes are shining with unshed tears. Harry takes his hands in his own, interlocking their fingers before he continues. “Father is getting better.” 

It takes a moment for his words to settle in and once they do, Louis gasps. King James has remained on bedrest for most of the year with little improvement, plagued by constant fevers and aches. “What did she say specifically?” Louis asks, unable to tamp down the flicker of hope growing within him. 

“He hasn’t had a fever in a month now,” Harry says, leaning forward to press his forehead against Louis’ before continuing in a softer tone. “Last week, he was freed from bedrest and has been moving around on his own ever since.” He pauses, swallowing. “Mother says he’s been talking up a storm. She made him laugh the other day. He hasn’t laughed since Spring.” 

“Oh, Harry,” Louis breathes, feeling his eyes well with tears. “That’s wonderful.” 

“They want to wait another month to further confirm his improvement,” Harry says after a moment, squeezing Louis’ hands. “But the doctor is confident in his recovery now. Mother is confident too. She told me she intends for them to be home by Christmas.” 

“That sounds lovely,” Louis whispers, happiness swelling in his heart at the pure relief lining Harry’s tired face. It hits him then what else the king’s recovery means. What Harry implied earlier in the conversation. “And you?” he asks, hope filling his throat. “You’re coming home?”

Harry abruptly releases Louis’ hands, startling the omega. However, he wears a smile that rivals the sun. “My darling Louis,” he says, reaching for his inside coat pocket and taking out a small velvet box. 

The tears begin falling for certain then, and Louis feels his heart expand tenfold, so strong that he feels as if it’ll burst right out from his chest. His vision is rendered blurry but the glint of gold was unmistakable even through the veil of his tears.

“From the moment I met you, I was enchanted by your beauty, and then just as easily by your character. Never have I met someone more kind or caring. You have filled my life with such happiness over our long engagement and have remained unwavering even as time has sought to work against us. You occupy my thoughts, my dreams, and my heart. I want nothing more than for you to occupy my future as well. I love you most ardently,” Harry says, emotion filling his voice. “Will you do me a great honor by marrying me?” 

Louis stares at the alpha and feels the love and hope in his gaze. He realizes that Harry is once again offering him something unbelievably precious and completely irreplaceable. Something far more exquisite than what he had before. “Yes,” he blurts out, louder than he intended. “Yes, yes yes.” 

Harry slipped the ring onto his finger, his smile wider than Louis has ever seen it. 

⚜️

As promised, King James and Luna Elizabeth returned to London in mid-December and are present through Christmas which they celebrated with all the grandeur and celebration of a family turned whole once more. Harry has agreed to maintain his position as Prince Regent into the new year just as King James settles back into his normal routines and catches up on all that he’s missed, but Louis is relieved that Harry has made it a priority to remain home for Christmas to be with his family, as well as Louis’ birthday. 

Louis protested first when Harry suggested throwing a fête in his honor at the Carlton House, but Harry insisted that it wouldn’t be too large and that it’d be the perfect opportunity to announce their impending nuptials, and his eagerness for the latter is what pushed Louis to eventually relent. It pleased him that Harry only seemed to grow more thrilled to marry him. They hadn’t decided a date for the wedding yet, but Louis was certain it’d be towards the end of January, once Harry was no longer Prince Regent and they could then take an extended leave to the Brighton Pavilion to savor the first few weeks of rosy wedded bliss. Whenever Louis thought of what would undoubtedly occur there, he couldn’t help but feel flushed. 

Unlike what was customary for most omegas, Louis had been thoroughly educated on the activities that occurred between a married couple. Lady Margaret believed it to be vital that Louis know what to expect so he could please his alpha as best as he can. Still, Louis didn’t like to think about it much, saving any and all feverish feelings for the desperate haze of his heat. 

“I have a gift for you,” Harry says now, on the morning of Louis’ birthday. 

Louis sets his novel on the table and turns to see Harry standing at the door of the drawing room with his hands behind his back. “Harry, you didn’t have to,” he chides, still feeling flustered by the grand affair breakfast had been all in his honor. All his life, his birthday has been celebrated with a special dinner and perhaps even a show at the theatre when his father still lived, but he knew practices were different for royalty. The gorgeous bouquet Louis was presented with by his maid upon waking up had only been the first of many. 

“It is a good gift,” Harry says, smiling smugly as he steps into the room. 

Quickly curious, Louis stands up and smiles. “Well, let us see it then.” 

Harry grins as he brings his hands to his front. Louis’ lips part on a gasp when he sees what Harry has nestled in the cradle of his hands: a kitten. 

“Oh my,” Louis breathes, heart skipping a beat. The creature is so small, silky soft fur the color of snow and eyes a pale sage green not far off from the alpha’s own. “Harry.” 

“She’s about thirteen weeks,” Harry reveals. “Lady Dashwood’s cat had a whole litter and I knew it’d be the perfect gift for you.” 

Louis’ heart trembles in his chest. “She’s mine?” he echoes.

“Yes,” Harry smiles, holding her out to Louis.

He takes her carefully, supporting her front with one hand and her legs with the other. She watches him curiously, ears twitching. “She’s beautiful,” he whispers. He has mentioned that he had a fondness for his aunt’s cat, a plump Spanish feline that had passed away when Louis was fifteen. He cried for a week, he told Harry – it had to have been towards the beginning of their courtship, so long ago. And Harry remembered it all. 

“Lady Lydia gave me very ample instructions for her care,” Harry adds, sounding amused. “I have it written up in my office. She did tell me that Angora cats are very playful, affectionate creatures. Very intelligent too.”

“She’s perfect,” Louis murmurs, already enamored. He and Harry spent the next hour playing with the kitten, watching her scamper across the room and explore the new terrain for herself. 

“Matilda,” Louis blurts when it appears in his mind. “I’ll name her Matilda. Tilly for short.”

“A lovely name,” Harry praises. “Fit for a lady.” 

Louis smiles, already able to tell that Matilda would grow to be quite the spoiled darling if he had anything to do with it. “Thank you, Harry,” he says, not for the first time. “I love her. I love you.”

“And I love you,” Harry says, very pleased with how his gift had been received.

By the time it becomes necessary to begin preparations for the fête, Louis is reluctant to pass the kitten off to his lady’s maid, Katherine, but he knows the beta will take good care of her. 

The fête itself is a small but grand affair. Louis and Harry greet each guest personally, a flurry of cheek kisses and handshakes and birthday wishes. The Luna and King are already present but remain in the background. Most of the guests are people Louis knows well: his aunt, uncle, and cousin, as well as his cousin’s fiancé, Lady Grace Ashton; Lord Liam and his wife, Lady Lucinda Payne; Lady Perrie and her husband, the Earl of Portsmouth, and other acquaintances from past events. 

However, also among the guest list is Harry’s uncle, the Duke of York, and his family, visiting from Oatlands Palace in Weybridge. Louis has heard a lot about the king’s brother, Prince Augustus, but has never formally made his acquaintance until today. Taking in his slate eyes, sharp features, and stiff expression, Louis nearly shivers – Harry warned him that his uncle often came off as intimidating. 

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, your grace,” he says once Harry, their mutual acquaintance, has introduced him, as customary. 

The Duke dips his chin in a small bow himself. “Charmed, my lady,” he says, voice coarse and uneven. He gestures to the beautiful omega beside him. “This is my wife, Lady Mary.” They exchange introductions, before the Duke gestures to his son. Harry told Louis earlier that Princess Helene would be absent for she was ill. “My son, Prince Frederick.” 

Prince Frederick bows, mumbling his own introduction. He was a stark contrast to his father, in fact bearing a stronger resemblance to his mother: tawny hair, pale blue eyes, and a round face. If it weren’t for the strong scent of chestnuts and mint he was radiating, Louis would first pin him as a beta. From Harry’s earlier descriptions, Louis knew the two were close growing up and that Frederick had been his first friend. They were willing accomplices in all sorts of adventure through the years, slipping away from their responsibilities in favor of going riding or exploring the secret passageways of Oatlands Palace. Harry seemed quite wistful as he described how they used to drive their shared governess mad. Remembering Harry's words made him now smile widely at the alpha who returned it right away, albeit nervously.

“He’s shy,” Harry whispers to him after Prince Frederick murmured his excuses with red cheeks and hurried past them into the hall. He says it fondly. 

The rest of the evening passes swimmingly. Louis and Harry have the first dance, gliding across the hall before other pairs begin to join them. It’s not until later when Prince Harry is dancing with his mother for the next set that Lady Margaret seeks Louis out.

“I must say I’m impressed,” she comments, regarding Louis with a disdainful expression.

Louis knows what she means immediately, taking his time as he turns to face her. He knows he lacks subtlety as he lifts his glass to his lips, engagement ring glinting in the light, but the way his aunt’s lips tighten at the sight is entirely too satisfying. “By the fête? It was mostly Elizabeth’s doing,” he says innocently. The Luna had given him permission to refer to her familiarly months ago, and while Louis mostly avoided saying it out of habit, he has no qualms making an exception for this instance. 

“Pettiness does not suit you, omega,” Lady Margaret says stiffly. “All I intended was to congratulate you on your nuptials. You and Prince Harry make a handsome couple.”

“Thank you,” Louis says smoothly. “Is that all?”

Anger flashes over Lady Margaret’s face in a glimpse of her true nature but it vanishes just as quickly. “It’d do you good to remember who arranged your acquaintance in the first place,” she hisses. “Ungrateful child. You’d be nothing without me.”

It’s a sentiment Louis has heard time and time again. For the longest, he had believed it, but he knows better now. He knows a life away from the binds and confines that Lady Margaret has done her best to bestow him with, and he has discovered the self-worth and respect she had been so adamant to deny him. “Once I am married, you will no longer have any power over me,” he says. “I will ensure that I never have to see you again.” 

Lady Margaret arches an eyebrow, scoffing. “You take after your mother more and more every day.” 

The way she says it feels like the furthest from a compliment. “Don’t speak of her again,” he blurts, anger getting the best of him. 

His aunt’s gaze could cut ice, chilling him to the bone. All at once, Louis is reminded of how she managed to hold so much sway over his life for five years. “You are not married yet,” she says after a lengthy pause. She flicks her eyes over his form, before turning away. “Fix your posture. Princesses don’t slouch.” She sounds smug. 

Louis lasts a minute before he straightens his spine, frustration and disgust twisting in his chest.

⚜️

~ 1818 ~

Two weeks later, Louis wakes up and is immediately struck with a peculiar feeling prickling at his senses. It sticks to his skin, prodding at his mind until he huffs and slides out of bed. Matilda, who has taken to sleeping curled up on the pillow next to him, does not stir. 

His thoughts drift to his plans for the day: meeting Luna Elizabeth and Lady Perrie for lunch and then a fitting with his favorite modiste, Florence, for his wedding gown. They’ve officially chosen January 27th for the wedding and the ceremony will take place at the Carlton House. It’s been a flurry of preparations and decision-making, but Louis has enjoyed every second of it. He wants to be married to Harry more than anything.

It’s not until he’s realized his lady’s maid is strangely absent that he is tugged from his roseate daydreams. Not a moment after, a series of loud knocks sound at his door, and Louis begins to realize that something is terribly wrong.

“My lady,” the butler says once Louis has yanked open the door, clutching the shawl he had hastily wrapped around himself to protect his modesty. “Thank, God.” 

“Is something wrong?” Louis asks, heart pounding in his chest. His throat wilts as he takes in his panicked expression.

The butler swallows, eyes dropping to the floor almost as if he were apologizing. “Prince Harry…” It is the tenor of his voice that speaks more than the words he utters. 

Louis’ breath leaves his chest, fingers gripping the door frame as a wave of vertigo washes over him. “What?” he snaps, voice raw and fragile. 

A pause. The butler averts his eyes, posture slumping with guilt and distress. “He’s gone.”

⚜️

~ 1819 ~

One year later.

“Tilly,” Louis chides when he opens the door to see Niall wearing an expression of amusement, an all too smug Angora cat bundled in his arms.

“She was hiding in the parlor under one of the chairs,” Niall explains, a thick Irish accent lining his words. 

“Thank you for finding her,” Louis says, taking the cat from him and tutting at her. “You naughty girl.” 

Niall bows, flashing a smile. “It was my great pleasure, my lady.” 

“Oh, hush,” Louis mutters, rolling his eyes when Niall just chuckles. The friendship between him and the beta, who’s been employed as a footman at the Carlton House for two seasons now, would undoubtedly be frowned upon by most others if they knew, but Louis finds that he no longer cares. Besides, it wasn’t like there was anyone else here to tell. The Carlton House is emptier than it ever has been, and that won’t be changing any time soon. 

“Are you leaving for Buckingham House?” Niall asks then, gesturing to his formal dress. 

“Yes,” Louis sighs, his brief carefreeness wilting as quickly as it bloomed. He’s found that to be more and more common with any fleeting feeling of joy that’s befallen him over the previous months. “The physician from Spain is arriving today and I want to be there for Elizabeth.” It had seemed like a cruel nightmare when King James fell ill again in Autumn, remaining bedridden for the past two months. All events including the Royal Christmas Ball were cancelled, and a Council of Regency was elected in early December to take over his duties with utmost discretion from the public. His majesty’s state has been carefully concealed from the start, but Louis has confided in Niall faithfully. 

“Do you think…” Niall trails off. 

Louis exhales shakily. “I don’t know,” he confesses. All he can see is Elizabeth’s tired face yesterday when they had tea, the lost feeling in her eyes and the way her fingers trembled around her teacup when she told Louis what the last physician told her: recovery is unlikely. It was just another addition in a string of doctors. 

“I’m sorry, Louis,” Niall murmurs, looking saddened.

As if sensing the thick sorrow cloying the air, Matilda nuzzles her face into Louis’ chest, purring softly. Louis lets the touch comfort him, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. 

“I must remain steadfast,” he tells Niall. “There may be hope yet.” 

“Certainly,” Niall nods, almost a little too earnestly. Louis cannot blame him. Every day that passes where King James remains incapacitated, his own hope dwindles even more. He was still weak, their own Royal Physician had said. Still fragile from the events of the year before – both physically and mentally. This time, he may not have the strength nor endurance to survive it. 

Niall seems to hesitate, concern etched across his face. “Louis… are you fine?” Not even a beta can ignore the obvious sadness of an omega, and Louis is sure he’s transmitting his distress quite strongly. 

“No,” he admits easily, cradling Matilda to his chest. He’s terrified, actually. Terrified for King James and for Elizabeth and himself. And he’s not just terrified, he’s sad. It’s the new year, and in just a couple short weeks, it’ll have been an entire year since the beloved prince disappeared and took one half of Louis’ heart with him. Niall knows this, and he knows Louis has been doing his best to pretend like there still isn’t a gaping wound in his chest that burns every day and every night. He feels the absence of his alpha like a constant pain, one that will never lessen. Where are you? He’ll keep wondering day after day, hour after hour. Why did you leave me? Why won’t you come back? He still refuses to accept what most everyone in the entire kingdom has accepted – what he and Elizabeth both deny vehemently: that Harry is gone forever. From Louis, and from the world. 

“I feel as if everything is spiraling,” he says after a pause, feeling the weight of his engagement ring circling his finger. He’s never taken it off and he never will, no matter how many people stare or talk behind his back. One would have to forcibly pry it off his finger in order to make him take it off, and still he would maintain that he is engaged. That he and Harry are getting married one day, no matter how much longer he’ll have to wait. “But all I can do is hope.” 

Niall nods, looking somber. “All we can do is hope.” Changing the subject, Niall clears his throat. “How do you feel about your aunt still trying to contact you?” he asks, referring to the envelope that had been given to him at breakfast before he comprehended the sender and promptly requested for it to be disposed of. Even just the sight of Lady Margaret’s name sends a flood of complicated emotions through him. 

“I would like to prolong this period of absence from my life as much as possible,” Louis responds simply. 

After Lord Edgar Tomlinson passed away in the Spring, the now Dowager Marchioness of Camden, Lady Margaret, has only become more and more unbearable. She has lost her title to her son’s new wife, and she’s lost her edge over the other ladies of her circle after Harry disappeared, and Louis was no longer princess-adjacent. Louis was victim to her scorching gaze and cutting words for months before deciding he could not endure it further. Unfortunately for him, there weren’t many options for an omega to live anywhere that wasn’t their family home nor their husband’s house. 

When Elizabeth offered him Carlton House to reside, Louis had first been floored with utter shock before protesting incessantly. For one, it was almost preposterous for an unmated omega, even of Louis’ age, to live alone. By custom, both he and his aunt should have moved in with Robert, especially since he had inherited Camden House. Despite his refusals, she would not revoke the ask. “This was Harry’s home,” she said forcefully. “And it was almost yours as well. You belong there more than any of us. If anyone dares say a word, I will discuss it with them myself. In any case, the house belongs to James and his family, not you. You are our guest. Stay there. Watch over it until Harry returns.” 

Until Harry returns. Six months have passed, and Louis is still watching over Carlton House, hoping and praying that one day Harry will walk in, sweep him up into his arms, and call him darling. He aches for his touch, for his voice, his smile, and his scent. Fragments of his essence stain Louis’ dreams every night, vanishing into the air from the moment he opens his eyes. Sometimes Louis fears that he is forgetting. Forgetting the smallest details of Harry such as the exact timbre of his voice when he says Louis’ name and the way his eyes brighten when he’s happy or pleased. All memories fade eventually, Louis knows, left with only hazy remnants of his father’s laugh after all these years. He refuses to believe that one day Harry will be the same, just a figment in his mind. Sometimes he finds himself pausing and picturing the alpha in his head as clear as he can, meeting nothing but frustration when the resulting image is not as intricate as it used to be. 

Please come back, he thinks again, feeling his heart contract in his chest. It shouldn’t be possible for it to hurt so much even after all this time, but it does. I need you with me. 

Hope, he’s come to realize over the past year, looks a lot like denial. 

⚜️

Santiago Garcia Fernandez was a highly esteemed physician, endlessly praised throughout Europe for his tested methods and consistent success rate. He was the best of the best, as well as their only hope, and the whole palace seemed to know it. Louis walked the grand halls and felt as if even the walls were holding their breath. 

Elizabeth appears as if she is holding her breath when Louis finds her in the King’s room, eyes already glistening with tears. She is the picture of elegance otherwise, gown rosy pink and trailing out behind her. James loves when I wear pink, she told him once. It makes Louis’ heart ache now. “He’s inside,” she explains, voice wavering. “I had to excuse myself for a moment.” 

Momentarily conflicted between comforting Elizabeth and being present for Señor Fernandez’s evaluation, Louis takes one look at the Luna’s anxious face and nods, steeling himself to enter the room and find out their chances. 

The king’s private room is almost bathed in darkness when Louis steps in, curtains drawn save for the slightest sliver of bright sky peeking through. His eyes find the four poster bed where King James lies swaddled in blankets. The physician, on the shorter side, stands next to it, hands clasped behind his back.

“Your Majesty, are you feeling better?” he asks, hearing the sound of Louis’ rustling skirts. 

“I am not the Luna,” Louis reveals, embarrassed. The physician turns and assesses him with a raised brow. “Lady Louis Tomlinson, pleased to make your acquaintance.” He feels awkward afterward for utilizing that specific word choice. He is not pleased to make this man’s acquaintance nor to be in this position, but societal customs prevail even in the midst of disaster. 

“Charmed,” Señor Fernandez greets, giving him a small bow. 

Louis clears his throat, unsure how to broach the subject. “Do you…”

“If I may,” Señor Fernandez says smoothly, sensing his uncertainty. “Based on my observations, it appears that his Majesty does not bear the signs of consumption nor any known communal disease, even with the small lesions forming on his hands. This, I assume, is the conclusion the others made as well?”

“Then what’s wrong with him?” Louis blurts out instead of confirming.

Señor Fernandez sighs. “There are some sicknesses that come from the body itself,” he says sadly. “His Majesty is getting old. Our defenses grow weaker and weaker with age, and his frailness is worsened by his previous bout.” 

Louis stares at the still form of King James, appearing so small and fragile where he lays. The alpha is known for his regal and noble demeanor, strong and healthy even in his fifties. His haggard and flimsy appearance now feels wrong. “Is there anything we can do?” Louis asks, but the words taste sour on his tongue. They’ve already tried anything and everything: bloodletting, carefully curated doses of mercury, experimental medicines imported from far-off coasts, salves and homemade remedies commissioned from apothecaries all over the kingdom, elaborate rituals and ceremonies, and blessings from the Church. What else is there for them to do but pray for a miracle?

“We can test a few medicines but I’m sure you’ve gone through similar remedies already. If I can be frank with you, my lady,” Señor Fernandez says, almost gently. “Believe me when I say I would do anything to heal him if I could, but it is too late. I believe the best decision now will be to let the king pass in peace. What time he has left with all of you should not be filled with more pain and suffering.” 

For a minute, it’s as if Louis hasn’t heard him. The alpha’s words sink into him but do not register in his mind until a moment later. He inhales sharply, heart pounding in his chest. “But –” He breaks off, throat turning to ashes as his eyes well with tears. I can’t help but feel like this is the end, Elizabeth had told him just two days past. Oh, how Louis wanted her to be wrong. 

“I’m sorry, my lady,” Señor Fernandez says, pity in his words. “I shall inform her Majesty.”

The words ring hollow in Louis’ ears. He feels numb as he follows the man outside. Elizabeth begins trembling as soon as he starts to speak. All Louis can do is let her clutch his arm, being an anchor as her world crumbles around her. 

On the following day, His Royal Majesty, King James of England passes away just before noon, gone in a breath. Louis had just arrived on Elizabeth’s invitation for luncheon. He was present when the Royal Physician burst into the dining room, face pale with sorrow. 

When Elizabeth falls to her knees and lets out a piercing wail, he stumbles to hold her, the numbness spreading across his entire body. Guards, maids, footmen, and more rush to comfort the distressed omega. The entire palace sobs with her, shuddering on its foundations. And far above them, the skies pay their respects, unleashing a torrent of rain upon London that rages all day and all night. Hope shrivels and dies, and the world mourns. 

⚜️

Time is a funny thing. 

Empires will rise and fall, wars will wage and break, people will prosper and perish, and time will still go on. It certainly does for Louis, no matter how much it feels like it’s frozen. It’s early February now – an entire month having passed since King James passed away and the kingdom was rocked to its core. 

Louis still feels numb. The feeling hasn’t lessened since that ill-fated day. He’s been here before, stumbling through the motions of each day and pretending everything is fine. He’s lost so many people: his mother before he knew her, his father… and Harry. 

It was the alpha’s birthday a week ago, and Louis spent the day with Lady Perrie, having made the visit to Portsmouth to meet her newly-born daughter for the first time. The sweet infant had seemed like a perfect distraction from his sorrow, but he could not help but observe Perrie’s adoration for young Amelia and feel envious. All Louis’ life he’s known that he wanted to be a mother, but he’s certain now that he never will be. How could he when his alpha was gone. Dead, Harry was dead. Louis knew it now. Deep inside, he knew it all along. It had just hurt too much for all these months to accept. However, now he is too numb to let the pain torment him to its full extent, stuck in an in-between of grief and wary indifference. 

After all, Louis should have expected this. Nothing good lasts forever. Perhaps he was a fool for believing he would actually receive his happy ending. Marrying a prince, having a family… it was all too good to be true. He would spend the rest of his days as a lonely spinster, alienated from society and from the happiness everyone else seemed to possess. 

Today, Louis ignores the stares grazing him and clutches his shawl tighter around himself as he walks beside Lord Liam Payne and his wife through St. James’ Park. Since the past month has passed, Louis has progressed from full mourning to the half mourning phase, able to attend social functions and dress in an expanded range of white, lavender, mauve, and grey rather than the black he adorned faithfully for the past four weeks. 

He’s dressed in pale mauve Promenade attire with ebony embroidery. His shawl is black with an amethyst brooch and he wears a pearl necklace along with his black bonnet with a mauve ribbon. His outfit was carefully picked out this morning with advice from his lady’s maid. He had been the talk of the Ton last year when he didn’t observe proper mourning practices for his fiancé, still stubbornly believing that he would return, but he would not make the same mistake this time. 

It’s ridiculous, he still thinks internally, the way that even mourning is strictly outlined by societal convention. One must obey the rules even during times of tragedy or be deemed a disgrace. Grief cannot be so meticulously planned out, yet here Louis was, displaying an example of ‘acceptable grief’ for the rest of London. Most of all, he hated how much he cared about these things. 

Before everything changed, Louis hadn’t realized how much Harry protected him from the papers and their cruel gossip, keeping him guarded from their grasping claws and wicked schemes. When he disappeared, Louis was stripped bare, defenseless against their attacks and stories and endless little criticisms. Despite being a part of nobility, Louis was still an outsider to the highest circles of aristocracy, a nobody. And they treated him as such. 

There were even rumors, he knows. Rumors that he was the one to send Harry running. That he was a harlot or a thief or barren. Countless ugly stories that kept Louis up at night for the first few months, arms wrapped around his waist, wishing they were Harry’s instead. Even now, the memories sting like a tender wound. He brushes it out of mind and focuses on Lady Lucinda’s chattering. 

“We must have you for luncheon, dear Louis,” she tells him when they complete their round of the park. While she does not possess a direct acquaintance to the royal family, she too wears a black bonnet in a show of respect to the passing king – it is a mark of grief common to the rest of the kingdom to mourn their beloved ruler. 

“I will call in at Bushy House soon,” Louis promises, though he is not sure when he’ll be able to carry it out. “I thank both of you for your kindness today,” he murmurs next, glancing at Liam. 

“Lucinda and I are here for you whenever you need us,” Liam says gently.

Strangely, Louis believes him. They haven’t seen much of each other over the past few seasons as Liam and Lucinda spent an extended amount of time visiting Lucinda’s family in Leicester but both parties had maintained a steady stream of mail through the months. Liam had been Harry’s best friend but Louis held a strong appreciation for him after all these years. Lucinda too quickly gained his respect with her unladylike laugh yet lovely singing voice. 

After bidding his friends a lengthy farewell, Louis returns to Carlton House alone, only slightly comforted by Niall’s presence outside the carriage along with the other main footman, Henry. The loneliness was most unbearable over the past month, but he knew it was a feeling he would have to become familiar with for his future. 

When Jacob, another footman, informs Louis of a caller later between the hours of three and four, he is understandably shocked. When he presents the calling card which reveals the visitors to be Prince Frederick and his cousin, Lady Adelaide, Louis is even more shocked. He had seen the alpha prince briefly at the funeral but had not stopped to converse. He and Harry were close but he and Frederick had not spent much time together, still bearing the status of only acquaintances. It is peculiar but not outrageous for him to be paying Louis a visit, no doubt roping his cousin in to avoid the scandal of calling on an unmated omega.  

Louis surprises himself with just how easily he dons the guise of perfect host, expressing his condolences to Prince Frederick who is dressed in all black and inquiring about Lady Adelaide’s recent engagement to the Marquess of Winchester. 

“We just wanted to see how you are,” Prince Frederick explains when they reach the topic of the nature of their visit. He has grown a lot in the last year since Louis has seen him, losing some of the pudge in his cheeks and taming his unruly curls to a neat coiff. He’s still just as bit as reserved and almost shy as Louis remembers though, voice quiet and posture just the slightest bit hunched. 

“I am deeply saddened,” Louis says, because that is what he is meant to say. I am numb. I am gutted and empty. “It has been difficult finding a way to cope but I am taking it day by day. His Majesty was such a wonderful alpha.”

“He was,” Prince Frederick says, nodding. “Adelaide and I paid our respects to him this morning upon arriving back in London. It still doesn’t feel quite real.”

“Indeed,” Louis murmurs. “You are in town for the coronation, I assume?” 

“Yes,” Prince Frederick nods. “My father will not arrive for another few days but Adelaide and I thought we’d travel early to get settled at the house.” He lets out a sigh. “It almost feels too early for a coronation.” 

“The kingdom needs a ruler,” Lady Adelaide speaks up for once, hands folded demurely in her lap. “I believe your father’s hand will be a comfort.” 

Louis’ gaze dips to his feet. He had almost forgotten about the coronation on Saturday. As brother to King James and the heir presumptive, Prince Augustus was next in line for the crown after Harry and now he would be ascending to the throne in a mere couple days. The Regency Council had ruled steadily in the king’s absence for as long as they could before the House of Lords demanded due inheritance take place. 

Prince Augustus and Louis had only ever been in close proximity a small number of times, but Louis’ wariness for the alpha has never faded. He had a natural intimidating countenance like Harry once warned – however, Louis’ dislike seemed to run beyond that. There was something about the alpha that unnerved him, qualities such as his piercing stare and perpetually severe grimace as well as an unpleasantness to his scent – sandalwood and mulberries – that Louis has never been able to shake off. Perhaps his impression of the man was misleading, but Louis couldn’t help it.

“I just can’t quite imagine it, is all,” the alpha replies. He glances at Louis. “Though I can’t imagine how quick it must feel for you, what with the engagement and all.” 

It’s strange that Prince Frederick is looking at Louis when he must be speaking to Lady Adelaide, the actual engaged party. A moment passes and he is still staring. Confusion rises in him when the alpha’s expression turns expectant. “Pardon?” 

“The engagement,” Prince Frederick repeats. “It’s all very sudden.” 

Louis’ mind races, wondering which acquaintance’s impending nuptials he’s forgotten. No one immediately comes to mind. “What do you mean?” he asks finally. 

Prince Frederick glances at Lady Adelaide, lips quirking in confusion. “Surely you know?” he asks, but his voice wavers in uncertainty. 

“I am afraid I do not,” Louis says, catching Lady Adelaide’s pitying look before she ducks her head. He turns back to the prince, the first tendrils of uneasiness twisting inside him. “What is it?” 

“My lady… you are betrothed to the crown prince,” Prince Frederick says slowly. 

“Was,” Louis says quietly. “I was betrothed to the crown prince. But he’s…” No matter how many times Louis has thought it, saying the word aloud is more challenging than he expected. Still, he forces it out. “He’s dead.” 

“Yes, except… Harry is no longer the crown prince,” Prince Frederick says, looking pained. Of all of Harry’s extended family, he had taken the alpha’s disappearance the hardest. Louis remembers observing how tired and gaunt he appeared for weeks after, always the first to suggest another search be conducted as well as another announcement put in the paper for information. “My father is.” 

Louis falters, lips pressing together. “I suppose he is,” he says. “But I was engaged to Harry. He was my fiance, and he died. That terminated the betrothal, surely?” Just as he says it, the first hint of doubt creeps in. His heart pounds as Prince Frederick grimaces. 

“It does not,” he says. “The terms of your agreement were very clear. You are engaged to the alpha set to ascend the throne, which in this case would be my father. I’m sorry, Louis.” 

“But… but that’s impossible,” Louis says, letting out a breath. He had heard, of course, that Prince Augustus divorced his second wife late last year and according to the gossip columns already planning on marrying a third, but never in a million years would he imagine it to be him. “Someone… someone would have told me. I had no idea.” 

“I was under the impression you knew,” Prince Frederick says, and Louis can hear the honesty in his words. “Why, your aunt called in to discuss it fully just yesterday. As you know, unfortunate circumstances arrived soon after.”

Your aunt. Louis feels the breath leave his lungs, body paralyzed. Lady Margaret knew. She may have even been the one to push the idea. She had just been waiting for the full period of mourning for one’s spouse or fiance – precisely a year and a day – to conclude before continuing her schemes to wed Louis off. And now he was engaged to Prince, soon to be King, Augustus. A man over thirty years his senior. Suddenly, Louis cannot breathe. 

Prince Frederick looks distraught. “I’m terribly sorry for you to have found out like this, Louis,” he rushes, stumbling over his words. Lady Adelaide just stares at him in growing sadness.

“I would like some privacy,” Louis manages to say, willing the tremble in his fingers to fade. Thankfully the length of their visit had already breached a sensible quarter hour. Louis could not bear any longer. 

“Of course,” Lady Adelaide says before Prince Frederick can protest. “Thank you for having us, Louis.” She stands up and sends a meaningful look to her cousin. 

“Yes, thank you sincerely, Louis,” Prince Frederick adds, standing up as well. He looks uncomfortable, clearly sensing Louis’ panicked pheromones and resisting the alpha urge to comfort him. “Once again, I am so terribly sorry,” he mumbles, averting his eyes. 

“It is not you who is at fault,” Louis says graciously, closing his eyes briefly to gather himself. He pastes on his most dazzling smile, standing on shaky legs. Even in times of despair, he must not forget how to be a proper lady. “Thank you deeply for your visit. I will see you on Saturday for the coronation.” He nearly trips over the word, refraining from shuddering at the thought of adding and my wedding. 

Later that evening, Louis would not be able to recall how he bid his visitors a farewell, maintaining his composure lest they see through to his crumbling foundations. Engaged. He was still engaged. He is to be married to Prince Augustus – the alpha who elicits such unpleasant feelings within him and whom he is barely acquainted with. However, Louis cannot deny that the worst of his qualities is that he is not Harry. He is not who Louis aches for and whom he still loves more than anything. It was supposed to be Harry. 

Louis lasts until halfway through an early dinner before the tears begin to pour. He excuses himself though there is no one there to hear him but a couple footmen as he rushes to his room, muffling his cries against the smooth duvet as the sun sets outside the window. 

⚜️

Lady Margaret is slow to invite Louis in, leaving him to shift from foot to foot and stew in silent hatred on her stoop. His eyes feel raw and dry after a night spent soaking his pillows with tears and he knows that anyone who saw him now could see the emotion etched across his face. Wearing it out so obviously is unbecoming but Louis couldn’t hold it in if he tried.

Finally, Lady Margaret’s maid, Frances, returns and beckons him inside. 

His aunt is draped elegantly over a settee in the drawing room, barely sparing him a glance as he comes to a halt before her. 

“When were you going to tell me?” he asks, deciding to forgo faux pleasantries. 

“So impolite,” Lady Margaret mutters. “That is not how you speak to your gracious host.”

“You’re not my host, and I am not a guest here. I’m your family. And you — you were supposed to be my parent,” Louis says, phantom hurt stinging between his ribs. “You’ve never been tender with me, but this has crossed a line.”

“Always so dramatic,” Lady Margaret says, and she sounds so patronizing and dismissive that Louis wants to scream. 

“You negotiated this engagement without my knowledge and approval,” Louis says, almost desperate to make her understand how out of line she was. “You know I had no intention of marrying again — not after Harry died.”

Lady Margaret arches a brow, expressing a small hint of interest. “So you’ve finally accepted that your alpha is gone for good,” she says smoothly. “It was about time. And since you’ve finally accepted it, you should understand the importance of moving on quickly. It’s been a year and a day, and you are four and twenty years, losing your youth and your beauty with every passing day. Time was of the essence, and I took matters into my own hands. You should be grateful.”

“Did you mishear me?” Louis says, incredulous. “I did not want to marry. Harry was my alpha, and he’s gone. There can never be a replacement.” 

“Louis, don’t be idiotic,” Lady Margaret says. “What else are you going to do? Stay a spinster for the rest of your life and rot alone? It is your duty as an omega to make a good match and start a family.”

Louis shakes his head. “My only duty is to myself, ” he says. He wanted an alpha and a family, but not because it was what was expected of him or because it was the only thing that he was good for. 

“Your naïveté is quite unbecoming,” Lady Margaret purses her lips. “Nonetheless, the deed is done. Thanks to me, you will marry the new king and reclaim your place as Luna, and I will keep a high ranking in the Ton.” 

A high ranking in the Ton. Of course that was what this was about. Lady Margaret lost her title when Edgar died, but she also lost her good standing in high society. That was a fate worse than death to the omega who only cared about reputation and social standing. So she took matters into her own hands, and now Louis will pay the price. 

“Would you really give up your nephew’s happiness for your lifestyle?” Louis asks, because even though he knows the answer he needs to hear her say it.

“You act as if being Luna will be a hardship,” Lady Margaret scoffs.

Luna. Louis will be Luna. Just not Harry’s Luna. Swallowing back the lump in his throat, Louis hardens his eyes. “You’re right, I will be Luna. And as soon as I am, I will forbid you from ever stepping foot into the palace. I’ll shun you from every ball and will never give you an ounce of my attention. Oh, how the Ton will revere you then.”

“Careful,” Lady Margaret says, narrowing her eyes. “Do not forget who will really lead in your marriage. Our future king, who has expressed his appreciation for me already. You should be lucky Prince Augustus is so generous as to honor the terms of your betrothal and settle for an omega as difficult and disgraceful as you. Hopefully, his discipline will douse your fire.” 

Louis does not respond, staring stubbornly forward. His aunt speaks as if he were a creature to be tamed, and he is certain his future husband will believe the same. The idea of that life — a life without freedom, respect, or choice – fills him with utmost dread. 

“I always did find it strange that Queen Amelia chose James as her successor despite Augustus being both older and clearly wiser,” Lady Margaret continues. “It is only right that he will finally be king.”

It used to amuse Louis how quickly Lady Margaret could change allegiances to serve her agenda, singing the praises of one sovereign one month before declaring superiority to the other in a matter of weeks. Now it makes him angry. “You are a coward,” he says. Lady Margaret has caused years of pain and sorrow, of regret and insecurity, and more for him. She demanded so much from him every day, and all he had wanted in return was her love. “And one day, you will receive exactly what you deserve.” 

“That day is sooner than you think,” Lady Margaret says, lips curling into a sickly red smile. “We are considering early March for the ceremony. His Royal Highness wants a Spring wedding.”

A Spring wedding. Louis shakes his head. “When were you going to tell me? A week before? A day?” he asks, distraught. He pictures Lady Margaret and Prince Augustus conspiring in secret and feels nauseous. “You have it all planned out already, don’t you?” 

“That reminds me, you have a dress fitting on the 15th,” Lady Margaret says, almost absently. “Do not be late.”

No, Louis thinks. He cannot do it. Slowly but surely, his only option becomes obvious. “It’s not like I have a choice,” he forces himself to say, carefully morphing his expression into one of resignation. “I can’t believe you did this to me.”

“One day you will thank me,” Lady Margaret dismisses, eyeing him contemptuously. “Sit up straight, Louis. For God’s sake. Be a lady!”

Louis was already sitting straight but he flattens his spine almost exaggeratedly, maintaining his impassive face. He endures the rest of the visit with great restraint before bidding his aunt a goodbye. 

During the ride back to Carlton House as the wheels clatter over the cobblestone roads, sounds echoing in Louis’ ears, he begins to plan. 

⚜️

“You intend to do what?” Niall exclaims, brows rising high on his forehead. 

“I intend to leave,” Louis repeats through his teeth, movements almost haphazard as he sorts through the shawls he has hung up in his clothes press. “Tonight if I can, but early tomorrow morning will do as well.” 

“Louis,” Niall says slowly. “Forgive me for my bluntness, but… what on earth are you thinking?” 

“I’m thinking that I need to get out,” Louis says, pausing his shifting. “Before the coronation.”

“But why?”

“Because I’m engaged,” Louis says, voice cracking on the word. He can nearly feel Niall’s shock. “My betrothal is still binding. I am to be married to the king of England within the next month. I cannot go through with it.” 

Niall is silent for a minute, appearing conflicted. “Where will you go?” 

“I’m not entirely decided,” Louis admits. “Scotland seems like the best and frankly only option. If I didn’t know that your heart already belonged to another, I would be begging you to elope in Gretna Green, but alas.”

“I’m flattered,” Niall says dryly. “Though getting married tomorrow would most certainly throw a wrench in any betrothal… It would also banish you from society forever.”

“I’m already running away,” Louis points out, lips twisting. “My reputation will vanish the moment I leave London. That is indeed inevitable.”

“You won’t ever be able to come back,” Niall says softly. “I think you need to consider this for a longer period.”

“I don’t have a choice,” Louis denies, shaking his head. “There is no doubt the official engagement announcement will be made after the coronation to extend the cause for celebration. We are a kingdom starving for some joy, and a Royal Wedding will provide ample excitement.” He exhales. “Once the entire kingdom knows, I am trapped.”

“But what will you do?” Niall implores. “Louis, you are an unmated omega with no dowry of your own and not a shilling in your pocket. You live on Elizabeth’s good will.”

Niall’s bluntness stings but Louis appreciates his stark honesty. “What other choice do I have?” he asks, almost wishing Niall would provide a more desirable alternative.

The beta sighs. “Let me think,” he says. “My brother, Greg, could most likely transport you to the countryside tomorrow, and discreetly for that matter, but out of the kingdom is more difficult. If only Lady Margaret hadn’t kept this from you so long. We could have prepared better.” 

“I suppose I could stay in the countryside for a few days,” Louis says, hesitating. “Only for enough time to confirm adequate travel to Scotland though. I do not know how everyone will react to my absence and I want to prolong the consequences as much as possible.”

“I could tell people that you’re out of town tomorrow,” Niall points out. “Visiting Lady Perrie Edwards or similar. If news travels as quickly as I know it does, everyone will not believe your disappearance as strange until the day of the coronation. I’d say it was an urgent matter and you left in a hurry.”

“You could be implicated in my inevitable infraction,” Louis shakes his head. “I cannot let you do that.”

“I could claim ignorance if worst comes to worst,” Niall smiles. “Don’t worry about me.” He gestures impatiently. “Now, let us not get sidetracked. You can stay with my brother and his wife for a couple nights, I’m sure.” His eyes brighten triumphantly. “I may have a friend who can bring you across the border by the end of the week.” 

“How will we get word to him?” Louis asks.

“I’ll mail him tomorrow morning,” Niall promises, looking thoughtful. “I will be as vague as possible and use a false name. What’s your middle name?”

“William,” Louis replies, frowning. “I will have to bring some of my jewelry to sell.” It almost hurts to say. He treasures every accessory in his possession, a sensibly modest collection but filled with such treasures. He is thoroughly lucky to have each and every one of them, and he feels guilty at how sad he is at the thought of parting with them.

“That’s a good idea,” Niall says, nodding. “Take all your money with you but keep it hidden, do you hear me? And do dress plainly, Louis. Some ruffians will see a fancily-dressed omega and see it as an invitation to rob or kidnap for ransom. I could not bear for something to happen to you.”

Louis grimaces, but jerks his head in acknowledgement. “Thank you,” he says sincerely, floored with appreciation for the beta, one of his kindest friends. 

“Finish packing, but make sure to pack light,” Niall warns. “Only bring the necessities. And to repeat myself, dress to be invisible because that is the only way you will make it.” 

“I will,” Louis promises, though his heart pangs at the thought of leaving behind all his favorite dresses. “You should go to sleep. I’ve kept you up too long.”

“You should also get proper sleep,” Niall says, narrowing his eyes. “You have a big day ahead of you. I will take care of the carriage and notify my brother. I ought to bring you some hiders for your scent too – a beta will have a much better chance of finding a safe place to stay.” Louis nods, agreeing. “Be ready to leave before luncheon.” 

With one last reassuring glance, Niall slips out of his room. Louis lets out a soft sigh, trying to calm the racing of his heart. He was actually going to do it. He was going to run away. 

His mind wanders as he finishes packing, thinking of how he’d get word to the Paynes and feeling a sense of sadness that he wouldn’t see Elizabeth before he left. The omega was staying with family in Brighton, well in the depths of customary mourning. He may never see her again. He may never see any of his friends and acquaintances again. 

Directing his attention to the nest he’s constructed at the corner of the room, he allows himself to mourn his carefully crafted haven as well. God knows when or if he would ever be able to build another one. Nests are inherently omega. A place of comfort and protection. Louis would never admit to anyone that he felt an immense pride in his own, a beautiful cradle of thick blankets, shawls, and coats. He has a number of Harry’s clothes woven into the walls, but they have long since lost their scent. 

He may be able to part with his own clothes, albeit reluctantly, but losing Harry’s hurts somewhere deep inside him. He hesitates for only a second before picking out one of Harry’s coats to take with him. It’s plain enough not to catch attention and it will be most useful on cold nights. 

Before tucking it away, he puts it on over his chemise, wrapping it tightly around himself. It’s much too big for him, the shoulders drooping down his arms and sleeves hanging past the tips of his fingers. He stands and studies himself in the mirror, taking in his tired eyes and worn expression. 

For a moment, it is almost as if Louis can feel Harry’s presence, right in his heart. 

He shrugs off the coat just as quickly as he’d put it on, heart stuttering. Louis wishes more than anything that Harry were here. For one, it would have meant none of this would be happening – Prince Augustus would not be ascending the throne and Louis wouldn’t be forced into a marriage he did not want – but most of all, Louis would not feel so alone. 

It is not the first night Louis has gone to bed in tears, and he knows it surely will not be the last. 

⚜️

When Louis wakes up, he is overwhelmed with a feeling of bitter anticipation for the day’s events. His heart pangs when he finds Matilda curled up at the foot of his bed. He had given some thought to bringing her along with him the night before but he cannot imagine the spoiled feline enjoying his forthcoming adventures in the slightest. He would have to leave her with Niall even though it breaks his heart. Perhaps he could send for her later? It was too dangerous to carry such high hopes so he brushes them aside. 

He checks the clock, frowning at the time. He requested for Katherine to bring him his breakfast in bed in the morning and she should be here right about now, however the beta is nowhere to be seen. He waits a bit longer, patience eventually dwindling as he slides out of bed and stretches slowly. 

A knock sounds at the door and the sheer urgency of the action has Louis stilling in his movements, a sense of dread overtaking him. Calm down, he scolds himself. It’s probably Niall. He grabs a shawl from his wardrobe before making his way to the door, heart racing. 

It is not Niall, but Roland, the steward, standing outside, and once again Louis is struck with a sense of immense familiarity at the scene he’s found himself in. 

“My lady,” he greets, lips flattened into a grim line. 

“What is it?” Louis speaks, a buzzing roaring in his ears. Who else? Who else has been taken from him? “Roland, please,” he adds when the steward seems to hesitate. 

“It would be better if you came with me,” Roland says, and he sounds so shaken that Louis’ panic only grows. 

“May I dress first?” Louis asks, speaking as if in a daze. 

Roland nods, and Louis quells the quivering in his fingers as he closes the door and releases a few shallow breaths. 

A soft caress to his ankle almost makes him jump, shoulders slumping a bit at the sight of Matilda brushing up against his leg. “Sweet girl,” he whispers, leaning down to stroke her head quickly. She purrs contentedly. 

As appealing as it would be to delay the inevitable, Louis readies himself quickly, clumsily doing up his stays and then tugging on a velvet waistcoat embroidered with flowers and cotton trousers. He exits the room and finds Roland pacing outside, hands clasped behind his back. He startles at his presence.  

“I’m ready,” Louis says, dread returning. 

“This way, my lady,” Roland says, gesturing for him to follow. 

Louis’ panic turns quickly to confusion as Roland leads him to one of the guest-rooms that has gone unused for over a year. His confusion grows when he sees Lord Liam Payne waiting outside a door, appearing ruffled and weary. 

“My lady,” Liam greets when he sees him, bowing. 

Caught off guard, Louis returns with a curtsy instinctually. “Pardon my asking, but what ever are you doing here at nine in the morning?” Louis asks. He glances at Roland, brows raising. “And Roland, why did you let him in without my approval?”

“It was a matter of utmost urgency,” Roland rushes, looking distressed and guilty. 

“Louis, do not blame him. I insisted,” Liam interrupts. “I promise you that I’d never dare infringe upon your privacy so boldly in normal circumstances. However, circumstances are anything but normal.”

“What is going on?” Louis asks, looking between the two with suspicion. 

Liam takes a deep breath. “You’re not going to believe me when I tell you,” he says, “but let me tell you. I went out hunting with Lucinda’s father and a couple other acquaintances yesterday. I’ve never been a fan of the activity, frankly, but I tolerate it for the sake of maintaining a camaraderie with my father-in-law. We went out hunting, and at one point, I was separate from the rest of the group… Someone attacked me.” 

It is a moment before the alpha’s words to register, and once they do, Louis lets out a gasp. “Good heavens, are you quite fine?” he asks, assessing Liam’s figure for any obvious injuries. 

“I am indeed, not to worry,” Liam assures him. “I do not think my attacker intended to harm me… In fact, I think he recognized me.” 

“Recognized you?” Louis repeats, puzzled. 

“Louis… my attacker was Harry,” Liam says all in a rush. 

Once again, it takes a moment for the alpha’s words to register in Louis’ mind. And as Harry echoes endlessly in his ears, Louis’ entire body freezes up. “Pardon?” he breathes. 

“Harry,” Liam says again, louder. “Harry is alive.” A loud buzzing erupts in Louis’ ears. 

“Shall I fetch you a chair, my lady?” Roland asks worriedly. Louis can’t hear him, Liam’s words repeating over and over in his head. 

“How can you say something like that?” Louis implores, because it must be some sort of cruel trick. He cannot believe Liam would try such a thing.

“It is the truth,” Liam says, meeting Louis’ burning eyes directly. “I saw him with my own two eyes. Harry is alive.”

“You’re lying,” Louis says, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head adamantly. Oh, how he’s longed to hear those exact words spoken aloud. Now it only brings him great sorrow. “Please, Liam, stop this now. It is not amusing. I can't bear it.” 

“Louis, I swear on my life and on my family that I am telling the truth,” Liam says slowly. “Roland, tell him.” 

“He is being honest, my lady,” Roland adds, albeit nervously. 

Could he have drawn Roland into this prank? Louis cannot imagine the alpha doing such a thing, but it must be the case. It must be. “You’re mad,” he mutters, tears spilling from his eyes. He despises himself for allowing the smallest flicker of hope to ignite within him. Hope had always been his ruin. “Toying with an omega’s feelings is detestable, don’t you know.” 

“Harry is alive,” Liam repeats, not faltering in the slightest. His tone softens, more gentle. “Louis, I promise I am not fooling you. He is not fully himself, but he is alive and I brought him to you.”

“You cannot possibly be right,” Louis cries, burying his face in his hands. “How can you possibly be right?” He says it as if begging, pleading for the smallest possibility for it all to be true. 

Liam taps the door. “He’s inside.” 

“Tell me again that you are not playing a twisted game with me,” Louis murmurs, eyes opening. He can feel the wetness on his cheeks and the harsh thundering of his heart. 

“Louis, Harry is alive,” Liam indulges him. 

Louis exhales, and then inhales, repeating the action until he feels in control of all of his limbs and thoughts. He bolts for the door, undoing the lock before pulling it open. 

“Wait, Louis –” Liam rushes, but Louis slips past him into the room without a second thought. He has to see — to know. 

The first strong notes of Harry’s scent in the air have him stumbling to a halt, omega wailing in his chest. The rich smell of oakmoss and clary sage which has enveloped his dreams for months and months. Almost immediately, his eyes fill with tears, hand lifting to press against his mouth. 

A loud growl makes him flinch. His eyes dart around the room, widening when they find and then settle on the alpha. It’s Harry. It’s his Harry standing across the room, stance wide and back pressed to the wall, dark hair tangled and face marred with coarse whiskers and angry red scratches. It is his Harry standing there with his teeth bared, lips twisted into a scowl, while… almost entirely naked.

Louis chokes on his breath, cheeks flooding with color as he spins around and heart thundering in his ears. He doesn’t protest as Roland and Liam pull him back out of the room, slamming the door shut behind him and then hastily redoing the lock. 

Roland looks a mixture of horrified and overwhelmed. “I’m so sorry, my lady,” he babbles as if he has been personally responsible, wiping the sweat off his forehead. “His Royal Highness refuses to put on proper clothes.”

“He what?” Louis squeaks, hurriedly wiping the tears from his eyes. After eighteen months of courting, the most Louis had seen of the alpha’s skin was the bare expanse of his chest from a distance when he was sparring with some of the guards. 

What he had seen just now was a lot more exposing and a lot more obscene. The alpha wore no clothing except for a fur pelt crudely stitched together and wrapped around his hips. It just barely covered his lower regions, but left little to the imagination. Louis is certain that his cheeks are bright red, images flashing in his brain enough to make either faint or fall to his knees. 

“I told you,” Liam says, expression troubled. “Harry is not himself.”

“He was… snarling,” Louis says softly, a sharp pain in his heart. “Like a cornered animal.”

Liam looks uncomfortable, clearing his throat. “He has most certainly been exhibiting conventionally animalistic traits,” he admits. “I called upon the services of a physician earlier this morning before visiting you. He believes that the prince has succumbed to his inner alpha.”

“Succumbed to his… what does that mean?” Louis asks cautiously. He thinks again of Harry’s behavior – his gaze had been filled with aggression and distrust. There had been little hint of recognition in his eyes. Did Harry not remember him? 

“One’s soul is made up of their human side and wolf side, as you know,” Roland begins to explain, dabbing at his forehead with his handkerchief. “They remain in equal balance, creating mental and physical unity while also –”

“Harry’s human side has gone dormant,” Liam interrupts impatiently. “His wolf has completely taken control of his body and he’s running purely on animal instinct. I had to physically restrain him in order to bring him back to London. Now he refuses to wear clothes and it appears that he’s lost the ability to speak any discernible language. All I have heard from him in the fifteen hours prior are grunts, growls, and snarls.” Liam takes a deep breath. “He has essentially gone feral.” 

Louis processes the information slowly, heart pounding in his ears. “How… how did this happen? Where has Harry been all this time?” He was dead.

Liam and Roland exchange a look. “We have no idea,” Liam says finally. “The physician said that this… unbalance of human nature is extremely abnormal. There are only a few instances documented in history and none so shrouded in mystery. Harry is the only one who can shed some light on his condition but he’s currently incapable of doing so.” 

“I see,” Louis breathes, nodding. “But what now? How do we fix it?” 

Another look is exchanged and the very first tendrils of panic begin to fester inside him. Surely there was a cure? 

“Despite written attestation of the condition, there is no documented treatment,” Liam admits, grimacing. “He said that he knew someone who might be more knowledgeable on the topic and he will introduce us, but for now the next steps remain known.” 

“Oh,” Louis says, glancing at the door. By some miracle of the heavens, Harry has been returned to him, safe and whole. But of course, the universe would not gift him something so beautiful without a price. “I see,” he repeats. 

“I’m sorry,” Liam says, looking equally sorrowful. 

Louis shakes his head. He cannot focus on the bad when there is so much joy to feel. “We have to tell someone,” he says, before stilling. “Goodness , someone must alert Elizabeth immediately!”

“I have sent one of my footmen with a letter,” Liam assures him. “He will reach Brighton by nightfall. Obviously she and you were my first priorities, but as for anyone else… I believe proceeding cautiously is our best bet. We cannot let anyone see Harry like… this. It would cause a scandal in the ton.” 

“But Prince Augustus’s coronation is tomorrow,” Louis says, realization striking him. Harry was back. Which means he won’t have to marry Prince Augustus nor leave London and his life behind. Harry was here. The tears return in full force, and it finally begins to feel real. Harry is here. Harry is alive. 

Roland thrusts a silk handkerchief to him and he dabs at his eyes, shaking. Both the beta and alpha seem unsure what to do, hopelessly inept at the act of comfort within their level of relationship. 

“Of course we will tell the Court,” Liam says, after he’s managed to calm himself a bit. “We just need to settle on the best plan for moving forward. I am not familiar with a situation like this.”

“I need to see him again,” Louis says through his sniffling. 

“I’m not sure that is a wise idea, my lady,” Roland says carefully. “He could harm you or –”

“Harry would never harm me,” Louis interrupts, aghast at the implication. 

Roland flushes in shame, but Liam purses his lips. 

“Of course Harry would never intentionally bring you – or anyone – harm,” he says gently. “But this Harry is not exactly the same Harry we know. This Harry is… unstable. We cannot predict what he will do. He may be a danger to us.” 

“You cannot believe he’s truly so far gone?” Louis asks, feeling hurt that Harry’s closest friend was capable of thinking so little of him. 

Liam sighs. “Louis, I love Harry like a brother. When I realized it was him in the forest, I was nearly brought to tears. I want nothing more than to have him back here with all of us, but we must also be cautious. I told you that we had to restrain him before riding back to London. Why, he almost injured me!” 

“You said he recognized you,” Louis accuses. “He would never do such a thing to you, his dearest friend.”

“I think he recognizes me in some form,” Liam nods. “But it is Harry the human that knows me, not Harry the wolf. His animal instincts outweigh his humane ones right now – predatory instincts.”

“So what? We leave him trapped in that room?” Louis says, voice wobbling. “I cannot bear it. I cannot not see him and stand here knowing that he is alive after spending the last year longing for the very fact. I can’t.” 

“I am not fond of the idea either,” Liam says. “But what can we do?”

“Let me see him,” Louis repeats pleadingly. “I need to.”

“Louis –”

“No,” Louis shakes his head. “I knew from the day I met Harry that he would never hurt me. I know it still. He is my alpha. He swore to protect me – he and his wolf. I must see him.” 

Liam appears conflicted, but inevitably he sighs. “I suppose I cannot convince you otherwise,” he says resignedly. “You can try and speak to him, but please do maintain a safe distance. And we’re leaving the door open in case you need to escape or I or Roland need to intervene.”

“Fine,” Louis says, desperate to see Harry again, to inhale his scent and be reassured of his living, breathing presence. 

He reaches for the door and undoes the lock again, feeling Liam’s apprehension from where he stands behind him. He tugs, and the door swings open. Everything else fades away as Louis catches another strong whiff of Harry’s scent – oh how he’s missed it. 

Moving forward as if in a trance, Louis finds Harry treading across the room in a restless manner. Prowling, Louis thinks, averting his eyes from his mostly nude form. 

“Harry,” he says, reveling in the name. It is not a pained cry nor a griefful whisper. Not any longer. To Louis, Harry’s name is a spoken miracle.  

Despite his internal satisfaction, Harry does not react to his call. Louis can hear each one of his steps, quiet thumps echoing through the air. He can smell him too, scent thick in the air that Louis feels dizzy. It is not proper to release such strong pheromones outside of intimate settings, and Louis is overwhelmed by the intensity. He longs to break the distance between them and feel the touch he’s ached for endlessly, but he knows he must proceed slowly.

“Harry,” he repeats, hesitantly increasing the strength of his own pheromones. If instincts are what Harry is relying upon, then Louis will appeal to them. “Alpha.” He says it softly, not wanting Liam or Roland to hear such an intimate evocation from outside. 

He hears when Harry’s steps halt abruptly, a soft growl spilling from his lips. He shivers, his inner omega preening at the sound. 

So Harry does remember him. It ignites a strong sense of relief inside him, heart pounding in his chest. He did not know what he would have done if Harry no longer knew him – could not fathom the idea. 

Oh so carefully, Louis moves closer, using his nose as his guide. “Alpha,” he repeats, raising the volume of his voice just slightly. He shudders when Harry takes a few steps in his direction, letting out a small involuntary whine between his teeth. It’s a sound rich with longing – the call of a hurt omega. 

The alpha lets out another growl, and Louis takes a single breath before suddenly Harry is beside him, close enough to touch. “Goodness,” he breathes, startled and then flustered because Harry’s scent is even stronger now and he can feel the heat emanating from his bare skin. It makes Louis want to go slack and lean right into him, but he stays scrupulously still. 

He doesn’t even flinch as Harry places his palm on the side of Louis’ neck, a gesture so scandalous that it’d put their names in the gossip column for weeks if anyone saw. Louis barely notices, too distracted by the immense pleasure his omega feels at such an intimate touch. Harry’s hand is so big and warm against his skin, grip surprisingly gentle. His thumb strokes over Louis’ pulse, almost curiously. 

Louis chokes on his exhale when he suddenly feels Harry’s breath against his shoulder. Then Harry scents him. He does it clumsily but thoroughly, like he wants to douse Louis in his essence. All Louis can do is gasp and fall pliant in Harry’s hold, joy twirling through his body. He’s missed this desperately. He’s missed him desperately. 

They stand there like that for a while as Harry works dedicatedly. When he’s finally content with his job, he releases his hold from Louis’ neck and slides his hand up to Louis’ cheek, cupping it against his palm.

Eyes fluttering open, Louis meets Harry’s intense gaze. There are many changes in his face: the thick hair on his cheeks and chin, the scars embedded in his skin, and the gaunt pallor of his skin. Yet he still looks so similar to what Louis remembers. It is by looking into Harry’s eyes now that Louis has the realization. Harry – the Harry he knows and fell in love with – is still here, still inside this bold but tender creature. He still knows Louis, still looks at him the same way he used to and touches him with the same care.

Oh so carefully, Louis lifts his hand and places it over Harry’s. The alpha twitches at first, brows dipping in confusion, but he does not react beyond that. “You’re still Harry underneath all of this,” Louis murmurs, throat full with happiness and relief and pain and love, so much love. “I know you are. We just have to find you.”

Harry does not seem to hear him, focused now on Louis’ clothes. He lifts his other hand and tugs at Louis’ sleeve, an expression of bewilderment on his face. Though his apparent confusion to Louis’ clothing is undoubtedly unfamiliar, his face is almost exactly the same. It’s still Harry. His alpha and the missing half of his heart. 

“I love you irrevocably,” Louis says, lips wobbling. 

In response, Harry tears Louis’ sleeve right off. 

⚜️

Elizabeth is crying even before Louis opens the door, swathed in black bombazine silk and clutching her velvet shawl. He had done his best to prepare her for Harry’s current state but now he witnesses as shock passes over her countenance. However, it quickly disappears in favor of joy.

“My darling boy,” she cries, tears streaming down her face. 

Harry does not seem to notice his mother’s presence, preoccupied with itching and pulling at the garments on his body. It had taken a team of three to wrangle Harry into proper clothes and then shave his beard for his mother’s visit, and all three of them bore the scratches of a wild beast when they finally succeeded. Louis can finally look at Harry without flushing down to his chest so he believes the efforts to be a success. He’s spent every waking minute with Harry as he could even as Liam returned home to inform Lucinda of everything that has occurred. Harry cannot speak to him, but Louis takes comfort from his presence and being. It has been so long since Louis has felt this sort of comfort. 

Carlton House feels as if it has come alive for the first time in seasons now that the master of the house has finally returned – albeit not the same as he was. 

Louis had been worried about whether the household would respond to Harry’s altered behavior as well as if their discretion would remain intact, but he needn’t have stressed – Harry was an alpha who garnered loyalty and respect from everyone alike, and those two links were not easily forgotten. All of this was confirmed by Niall when Louis sought him out in order to ensure he knew to abandon their previous plans of escape. 

The last two days and two nights have passed in a flurry of rushed correspondences and impromptu meetings at the palace. Since Elizabeth is still excused from the public eye and no one would deny Louis the chance to spend every waking moment with his alpha, both of them are saved the effort of making an appearance. Actual participation, of course, was out of the matter as omegas in the first place. 

However, as both an alpha and a high-ranking lord, Liam has been present for all conversation, sending notes with a footman to inform them of the most important topics of discussion. 

Elizabeth seems to recognize that she must proceed cautiously but she still approaches Harry without hesitance, a hopeful glint in her eyes.

Louis is not sure how he will respond to her, having witnessed the aggression and hostility he directed towards those who had come into contact with him – Louis himself not included. However, once again he needn’t have worried. Harry does recognize his mother, brows dipping into a furrow as she reaches out and touches his hand. He closes his fingers around hers a moment later, letting out a soft rumble. 

Watching the two reunite brings Louis an immense joy, especially after having witnessed Elizabeth’s anguish so soon. The realization does not come to him until that very moment: Harry has no idea his father is dead. His father is dead and he will likely not understand even if they did attempt to tell him. 

It feels like a strike to the chest. He meets Elizabeth’s eye and it is as if she is thinking the exact same thing, lips pulling into a frown. 

However, Harry tears them from their sorrow when he succeeds in tearing through the buttons lining his muslin shirt… again. It seems Harry has a personal resentment toward clothing, and Louis is down one good dress to prove it. 

“How did this happen?” Elizabeth murmurs after Henry, Jacob, and Thomas have restrained Harry before he could tear off his shirt completely. He is snarling now, baring his teeth at the betas as they try to pin his arms behind his back. 

Louis frowns, still unnerved at the sight of Harry so uncharacteristically ferocious. Elizabeth appears similarly pale, and in hopes of reassuring her, Louis answers, “I do not know… But I do know that we can fix it. He’s still in there somewhere. I know he is.”

“Of course he is,” Elizabeth says, nodding. He feels a warm glow of love for her immediate faith. He’s always admired her resolve. “He knows us. He knows us because he loves us. And what is more human than love?” 

“I agree,” Louis says, resonating with the omega’s words. He glances at Harry who has finally surrendered to his opponents, though he sits as if he hadn’t lost at all – a predator in wait of prey. In these moments, Louis feels like he can see two Harrys – two layers of the same person laid one upon the other… but they are not perfectly aligned. 

“What shall we do?” Elizabeth asks, looking to Louis as if she hopes he has the answer. 

“I think all we can do is help him remember,” Louis admits. “Hopefully then he will come back to his human self of his own accord. It is our human side that collects and interprets memories after all.”

“Indeed,” Elizabeth murmurs. “That appears to be the best path, but it is not I we have to convince.” She’s referring to the Court, of course. Liam’s last note had explained to Louis that many members of the House of Parliament are concerned about Harry’s current condition – how long it will take to reverse and what it will mean for the kingdom for the while. 

Prince Augustus is planning on making an appearance soon Liam’s note had ended with, and Louis had felt a frigid curl of dread twist around his heart. Obviously, he had not been the one to inform the prince of Harry’s return nor the subsequent cancellation of his coronation, but he cannot help but picture the rage the alpha must have felt in response. He had nearly been king. The crown had been within his grasp only to be whisked away by Harry’s shocking arrival. 

He cannot help but feel as if Prince Augustus will not let this go so easily. But all he can do is wait for Liam’s next card. 

However, it’s not a card that arrives just after luncheon, but Liam himself, exhaustion lining his face. “I have bad news,” he admits when Louis greets him. 

Louis stills, insides contracting, but he gestures for Liam to follow him to the drawing room where Elizabeth awaits, the portrait of solemn in her mourning dress and crepe veil. Liam drops into a deep bow before her, murmuring his greetings to the Luna Dowager. 

“Please tell us what happened,” Louis requests immediately after Liam has seated himself, too impatient to ease into it. 

Liam grimaces. “Prince Augustus made an appearance at the Court to give his proclamation. He believes Harry is no longer fit to rule and therefore the progression of rule must persist to him. He has rallied the House of Parliament to his side.” Elizabeth inhales sharply while Louis stills. 

“This cannot stand,” she says, a quivering anger in her voice. It almost astonishes Louis, who has almost felt as if she were not capable of such fury. “I’ve always suspected that my brother-in-law has carried a resentment over not being chosen as heir by his mother, though James never seemed to believe so. But now he will wield it like a weapon. This is Harry’s birthright. It must not be taken from him.” She is tired, Louis realizes. Tired of loss. 

“Indeed,” Liam says, rushing to calm her. “That is what I and most of the House of Lords agreed upon. We argued that we cannot revoke Harry’s claim to the throne in haste. It would not be right to him nor to his majesty, the late King James. God bless his soul.” 

Elizabeth closes her eyes at that, looking pained. 

“So what has been decided?” Louis asks worriedly, heart pounding. Harry has lost his father already, he cannot lose the future he has been preparing for his entire life. Perhaps Louis is also far too tired of loss. 

"Nothing yet," Liam admits. "The meeting will recommence tomorrow morning, and unless a suitable solution is proposed and the minds of the doubters changed, Prince Augustus may progress as heir apparent after all."

Louis and Elizabeth do not respond, the room filling with a somber silence.

There has to be something we can do, Louis cannot help but think desperately. He ponders the idea for the remainder of the evening in solitude. Liam had declined their invitation to stay for dinner in favor of thinking more on their predicament, and Elizabeth soon retired to her private room, appearing very shaken and distressed by the events of the day. Louis cannot blame her. He thinks and thinks, shifting in his bed, and ultimately decides that what he needs is to see the alpha himself. 

Roland is quite disgruntled to be woken in the middle of the night, but he masks it as best as he can. For the sake of safety, the beta possesses the sole key that can unlock Harry from the room he has been confined to so Louis had no choice but to disturb him from his rest. He apologizes profusely but the beta simply waves him off. 

"It is no hardship, my lady," he says as he inserts the key in the lock. "Though I do maintain that you should have some protection while approaching his Royal Highness in the dark of night. It is not safe."

"I shall be fine, Roland," Louis repeats, resisting the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. "I only wish to see him briefly." He does not know why he is so desperate for the alpha's presence now – it is not as if Harry can solve the problem facing them in his current state though Louis wishes he could. He wishes Harry could stand before Council tomorrow and shame them for even thinking to replace him in the first place. 

The beta finally acquiesces but most reluctantly. He unlocks the door, and Louis steps in before he can change his mind. 

Somehow, it does not come as a surprise that the alpha is still awake. He sits on his haunches on the bed, face illuminated by the dim glow of the lamp on his bedside table. His head snaps towards Louis sharply, but he seems to relax once he realizes it is him and not a threat. He is dressed in a simple white nightshirt but the sleeves have been rolled up to his elbows and the neckline has been stretched to an unseemly extent, no doubt as a result of incessant pulling at the fabric. 

“Harry,” Louis breathes, timidly taking a seat at the edge of the bed. Perhaps it would be wiser for him to sit further away on the sette but Louis cannot bring himself to move. 

However, just as he settles, he is roughly pushed down on the bed. A strangled gasp is torn from his throat, and his lips part in shock when Harry leans over him, eyes glinting in the dark. His heart skips a beat, suddenly quite feeling warm in his nightgown. 

“Alpha, no,” he says, nearly tumbling off of the bed in his haste to get away.

The alpha is pouting when he glances at him again, but he seems to have comprehended Louis’ refusal and is respecting it. It is more proof that he is capable of understanding at least simple English, but it only serves to make Louis more upset. 

“You’re here,” he whispers, voice wavering. “You’re here, and they want to steal your crown anyway.” 

If he understands Louis’ words this time, he does not show it. But his attention is still fixed wholly on the omega, and it is the intentness of his gaze that has Louis speaking again. All in a rush, he explains what happened today – how Liam went to the Court and how Prince Augustus had somehow turned the Parliament against him. “If Prince Augustus ascends the throne in your place,” Louis says, trembling now, “I will have to marry him.”

Harry stares at him, clearly not understanding but visibly alarmed by his distress all the same. When he reaches out for Louis, Louis does not stop him. 

Instead he lets the alpha scent him, swallowing the lump in his throat. “I cannot do it,” he murmurs. “I cannot marry an alpha that is not you.” He shudders. “I will have to mate him too.” 

The mention of mating seems to have struck through to Harry for he growls a moment later, eyes flashing. 

“I know,” Louis murmurs. It is almost ridiculous – having a one-sided conversation with someone who cannot comprehend the vast majority of what he is saying – but Louis feels comforted anyway. Because even if Harry does not understand, he is still listening. He cares, and Louis can feel it in his heart. He can feel the alpha’s love for him radiating from him so strongly. 

Louis recalls his observation that it was like there were two layers of Harry laid one upon the other. It may be true that these two parts of Harry are no longer aligned completely, but a piece that has remained true is the alpha’s heart. His heart is the same, and Louis knows because it is aligned with his own heart as well. 

And what is more human than love? Elizabeth’s words return to him like curtain lifting before his eyes. 

He gasps, and Harry hovers over him in concern.  

“No, no, I am fine, Alpha,” Louis assures him when he begins to appear agitated. “I have just gotten an idea.”

⚜️

The very next morning, Louis awakens from his slumber and immediately rushes out of bed to his writing desk to print out a note to Liam. It is essential that the alpha receive it in time – before he leaves for the Court. He must know of Louis’ idea, because it may be their only hope. 

I know how we can persuade the Court, he had written in the message. It was rather simple, really. The key to Harry’s recovery was instilled in the people who loved him. Love was the answer, and it would be what brings Harry’s human side back again once and for all. 

That was the sentiment Louis believed, of course. Unfortunately, such fancies would not appeal to the sensible members of the Court. However, that did not matter, for he did not intend for Liam to describe the plan for Harry’s recovery anyway. All the alpha had to do was negotiate the deal. The Court will re-establish the Council of Regency to rule the kingdom while Harry recovers. And if Harry does not return to his former capabilities within three months, then Prince Augustus will ascend the throne as planned. 

Three months had felt most reasonable to Louis – it was plenty of time for them to help Harry remember his human side while also preventing the House from getting antsy. 

Liam’s hastily written reply arrives at breakfast, promising that he will try his best. Elizabeth and he spend the morning in absolute agony, waiting and wondering and worrying. They try to keep busy – Elizabeth by knitting and Louis by playing the pianoforte, pressing much harder on the keys than he normally would because the loud, jarring notes ease some tension from his shoulders. 

By midday, they have both given up on trivial distractions. Louis paces across the drawing room while Elizabeth sits very still, lost in her thoughts. It is a relief when a footman knocks on the door, informing them that Liam has come to call. 

“Well?” Louis asks once the alpha has settled moments later. He cannot bring himself to engage in the proper greetings. 

“I proposed the solution,” Liam says slowly. The small pause he takes seems to last a century. “They agreed.” 

Louis breathes out a sigh of relief only for Liam to add, “However, Prince Augustus and his allies argued the passing.”

“And what?” Louis demands, heart racing. Please, he wants to say. Please do not say –

“The agreement eventually stood,” Liam assures him. “However, a compromise had to be met.” 

“What compromise?” Elizabeth asks. 

“They’ve agreed to our proposition… with a slight alteration,” Liam says, looking uncomfortable. “As in, they cut your time in half. We have six weeks to bring back Harry’s human side, or else Prince Augustus will ascend the throne.” He turns to gaze at Louis directly, grimacing. “And you will marry him.” 

Silence echoes his declaration, and Louis closes his eyes, breathing hard. He can feel both Liam and Elizabeth’s gazes on him, heavy with sympathy. Ignoring them, he thinks about Harry – always Harry. He opens them a moment later, his resolve hardening into something powerful. He has spent over a year hurting and surviving, letting each new blow strike him down. But now he knows there is light at the end of the tunnel. He must fight to reach it. “Then we must begin right away.” 

⚜️

Louis realizes pretty quickly that he may be in over his head. 

As in, he realizes about an hour after Liam has left to return to Bushy House and Elizabeth has retired to her room for a nap. She has officially declared that she is planning on staying at Carlton House indefinitely, and Louis is most relieved about it. More accurately, however, Louis realizes this as he carefully bandages Harry’s hand. 

“I can’t believe you broke the window,” he murmurs, shaking his head in disbelief. He had been getting ready for bed just down the hall when the sound of glass shattering rang through the air, deafening in the usual quiet of the night. Niall had reached first, gesturing for Louis to stay back before he carefully undid the lock and entered the room. Louis peered after him to see Harry standing, licking at his bloodied knuckles before gripping the side of the broken window. 

Realizing he was about to climb out, Niall rushed to grab him, Henry and Jacob right behind him. Louis was honestly astonished to learn that he did not break his hand, but he bore many cuts and scratches from the jagged shards of glass that now littered the floor. He forbade anyone from sweeping it up tonight, injuries being too easy to get with the little light they have. 

He has also insisted upon being the one to bandage Harry’s hands, though he struggles a bit with getting him to keep still enough to wrap his bruised hands. They sit on the bed in one of the other guest-rooms now while Louis works by the glow of the oil lamp. “Stop that,” he admonishes when Harry pulls at his dressings, a frown on his face. Harry doesn’t listen, trying to unravel the bandage before Louis bats his hand away. “Alpha, please.”

Harry’s ears seem to prick at that, finding Louis’ eyes. Louis gently pulls his other hand away and feels relief when the alpha doesn’t resist this time. 

“Thank you,” he whispers, wrapping them a final time before setting the gauze aside. He watches Harry study his hand curiously, that frown still on his face. He can’t believe he punched through a window and tried to leave. Had he been trying to escape? To leave Louis? 

Again? 

The thought elicits a fear in him – that Harry does not want to be here. And how could he? In his mind, he is a wolf. No wolf wants to be locked up inside all day, nowhere to run or roam. Harry has probably felt trapped these past few days. It’s why he’s been so defensive and hostile, stuck in an unfamiliar place with unfamiliar things. Louis should have realized it sooner, but instead he let his own personal wants for Harry to be near to outweigh what was actually best for him. 

“I’m sorry,” he says, blinking back an unexpected rush of tears. He’s been crying so much recently that the act feels exhausting now. “I’m so sorry, Harry. I promise we’ll let you out tomorrow.” Despite his best efforts, the tears don’t stop coming. This is his fault. All he wanted was for Harry to feel at home, and he’s failed. He’s already failed, and he’s only just begun. How is he meant to do this? Any of this? He stills when he feels a hand cup his cheek.

Harry is frowning again, thumb wiping Louis’ tears with his brows furrowed as if they’re personally offensive to him. Louis is silent as he strokes his cheeks, an expression of deep concentration on his face. He’s so tender and gentle and Louis feels like treasure in his hands. When he’s finished, he licks a stripe up Louis’ cheek and Louis lets out a startled laugh. The sound surprises him – it has been so long since someone has made him laugh. He finds Harry’s eyes, staring into them for a moment as he swallows. 

“Don’t leave me,” he whispers, quietly but pleadingly. “Please don’t leave me.” 

His eyes flutter shut when Harry leans in and noses along his neck before settling his lips against Louis’ bonding spot. The alpha does not say a word, but his action is all the promise Louis needed. 

They sit together as the light from the oil flickers and fades. Harry is warm beside him, releasing a cloud of pheromones that feel like silk against his overwhelmed mind. Louis feels himself grow lax, wisps of sleep tugging him into its embrace. He forces himself to resist it, reluctantly pulling away from Harry’s warmth. 

“I have to go,” he says, though it pains him. He cannot sleep in the same bed with Harry before they’re married. It’s improper. And though he knows the servants would never say a word – for they are loyal to Harry and they are also loyal to Louis – and that even Elizabeth would feign ignorance if she found out, he cannot risk it. Not when they must already walk on eggshells. 

Harry doesn’t seem to understand that he’s leaving until he reaches the door, a low growl sounding behind him. It almost erases Louis’ restraint, but he remains resolute just as he has the nights before. “You’ll see me tomorrow,” he promises, gripping the door handle. He jumps when hands grip his waist, pulling him away from the door. “Harry,” he sighs, turning around only to realize he’s now pressed up against Harry’s chest. 

He’s growling again, pulling Louis backwards and towards the bed. 

Louis lasts only about a minute before he’s surrendering, his omega purring at the thought of sleeping beside his alpha. He blushes when Harry pretty much pushes him down onto the mattress before climbing in beside him. 

The alpha tugs the duvet out and then grabs the blanket, tucking them around them until they form some sort of shell around them. A nest, Louis realizes, heart swelling. Harry is trying to build them a nest, similar to the one he’s assembled on his bed in the other guest room. It’s probably how he’s been doing all year. 

When he’s satisfied, Harry settles beside Louis and then curls around him like a wolf might do to its mate. Louis sinks into it, feeling more relaxed than he’s ever felt before. None of his worries or his troubles exist in this space. Just comfort and contentment. He falls asleep quickly, a chorus of safe whirring in his head. 

It’s the best sleep he’s ever had. 

⚜️

The next morning, Louis awakens to a commotion outside. 

He pouts, nuzzling deeper into the pillow and wondering if he could get away with ignoring reality as long as possible. He feels like he’s laying in heaven, not ready to give it up so soon. He leans back, expecting to find Harry behind him still, but only meets the softness of more blankets. 

Pout growing, Louis sits up and rubs his eyes. He opens them just in time to see the door swing open, hitting the wall with a thump. Harry strides in, arms full with… curtains? 

Louis recognizes the pattern as belonging to one of the drawing rooms downstairs, a ruby red color with threaded golden embellishments. He stares in confusion as Harry moves towards the bed and drops them onto the mattress, looking very satisfied with himself. 

“Harry,” Louis says slowly. “What did you do?”

His question is answered when Roland appears in the doorway, face red. “Pardon, my lady,” he says, voice pitched high. Louis makes sure the blanket is pulled to his chest, covering his low neckline. “His Royal Highness has ripped the curtains from the wall.” 

“Ah, yes, I see that,” Louis says, watching as Harry begins to tuck the curtains around him, adding them to the shelter had started constructing the night before. “I think he’s building a nest.” 

“But, he  –” Roland sputters, looking quite frazzled. “Those are downstairs curtains. They’re made of fine satin! He can’t just –”

“I’ll take care of it,” Louis promises, internally amused by Roland’s overwhelmed expression and Harry’s obliviousness to it all. Roland gawks when Harry walks out, seemingly in search of more curtains. Louis lifts a hand to cover his giggle when Roland scurries after him, yelling “Your Royal Highness, please!”

He is reluctant to leave the cradle of their nest, but he knows the day must go on so he wills himself to climb out and return to his room for proper clothes. 

Matilda is curled up on his bed when he enters, lifting her head at the sound of the door before turning away when she sees Louis, letting out an annoyed meow. Louis smiles despite himself, shaking his head. His sweet girl was such a princess. 

“I’m sorry I abandoned you, dear Tilly,” he coos, scooping her up and rocking her from side to side as he would an infant. 

She remains stubbornly impassive until Louis scratches behind her ears, easily eliciting a soft purr. He puts her down in favor of changing and she leaps up onto a chair bathed in sunlight to take a nap. Louis would be lying if he said he didn’t envy her freedom to sleep and laze around whenever she pleased. 

He changes quickly, having perfected the task – Lady Margaret never permitted him a lady’s maid at Camden House so he is used to dressing himself and has never minded it. He doesn’t see the purpose of having his lady’s maid assist him now either when he’s capable of doing it himself with little trouble. 

Harry is still busy constructing their nest when Louis returns, having expanded his materials to include tea towels, pillows from the drawing room, and the lace table doilies from the corridor tables. Roland is still present but he seems to have given up on trying to tell Harry what to do as it is very clear the alpha cannot understand him. 

After Louis manages to convince Roland that nothing bad will happen if one of the windows is missing its drapes and the hall tables are bare for a few days, he approaches Harry and taps him on the shoulder.

“We should eat breakfast, Alpha,” he says, pointing to his stomach so Harry knows what he means. For the meals prior, Louis requested for the food to be brought to Harry – lots of meat and fruit, things that appeal to a wolf – but he is determined to both give Harry a change of scenery and also put him through the normal situations and motions that he once went through daily. 

The alpha seems to understand the promise of food so he follows easily when Louis takes his hand and turns to guide him out of the room. 

“Please tell the kitchen that his Royal Highness will be joining me today,” Louis instructs Roland who nods. 

They have breakfast in the Dining Room, a circular domed room with a long table running from one side to the other. It has felt so lonely eating there alone for the past year but now with Elizabeth and Harry eating with him, he does not notice the ample empty chairs around them. 

Elizabeth and him share an amused glance when Harry stuffs an entire crepe into his mouth, eyes widening in delight at the taste. He eats so many of them that Louis calls for another serving. 

“What is your plan for the day, darling?” Elizabeth asks him at one point.

“I want to take Harry out into the gardens,” Louis says, thinking again of his revelation the night before. “I think being outside will ease his mind and bring him comfort.”

“Splendid idea,” Elizabeth nods. 

Harry is visibly enthusiastic when they leave the house and enter the gardens. They’re holding hands which proves to be an issue when Harry bounds ahead, pulling along Louis who clutches at his bonnet helplessly. 

Almost immediately Louis can see a change in Harry’s character, a look of genuine happiness on his face. It’s what easily convinces him to join Harry when he decides to run across the green lawn, wind ruffling at their hair and chill biting at their cheeks. Louis holds his bonnet against his head and grins widely, feeling like he’s flying.

He nearly trips when they come to an abrupt halt, mouth dropping open when Harry suddenly releases his hand and lopes off on his own. His confusion vanishes when he sees Harry stop by a patch of wildflowers. He watches as the alpha wraps his hand around a bundle of the blooms and then pulls them straight from the ground before turning and making his way back. He presents them to Louis with a bright smile, roots and chunks of dirt and all.

To Louis, it’s the best bouquet he's ever received. “Thank you, Alpha,” he murmurs. 

After an hour, Louis falls behind Harry’s endless energy and chooses to sit on the bench while Harry walks and runs as he pleases, stopping to sniff the flowers curiously or climb the trees. His shirt is streaked with dirt and there’s already a tear in his trousers – he does not look like the immaculate prince that the rest of London sees. Yet, he’s perfect. 

“You’re so happy,” says Niall, appearing from nowhere and startling Louis. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much.”

Louis is smiling now, patting the spot next to him so Niall can sit. “I am happy,” he admits. “So happy.”

“So the deadline isn’t worrying you?” Niall asks cautiously.

He sighs. “Of course it is. But I cannot let my dread and fear act as an obstacle for what is truly important: Harry. All I can do is try my hardest,” he says, pausing for a moment before finishing “and hope for the best.” 

“Hope,” Niall echoes, smiling. “It looks good on you.”

Louis ducks his head. “It feels good.”

“What about the physician you mentioned before?” Niall asks after some comfortable silence has elapsed. “The one who has knowledge in the prince’s condition?”

“Liam contacted him and we’re waiting to hear back,” Louis reveals. “He is not too far away so I’m hoping to see him within a week. He may be able to give insight into Harry’s feral behavior and how it was caused. And perhaps that will get us closer to figuring out how to reverse it.” 

Niall nods, looking thoughtful. “I’m sure he will respond soon.”

“And what of you?” Louis asks, narrowing his eyes. “How is your courtship?” 

The beta blushes at that, always becoming bashful at the mention of his promised omega and their courting. It had taken Louis months to lure her name out of him and even longer after to get more information. All he knows is that the two went to school together when they were very young back in Ireland only to be separated when she moved to London. They were reunited by chance when Niall too moved to London and became a footman. They were to be married by the end of the year if all went well. The rest Niall remains close-lipped on. 

He listens to Niall’s stuttering non-answers and teases him for his shyness. He’s so caught up in their conversation that he doesn’t sense Harry’s approaching presence until he appears in front of them.

“Is something the matter?” Louis asks, but Harry isn’t looking at him. He gasps when Harry takes hold of Niall by the sides of his arms and then lifts him up and off the bench, setting him down a meter away so that there was now a substantial distance between him and Louis. Niall’s expression is one of shock, mirroring Louis’ own. 

“Goodness,” he blurts, shocked by Harry’s actions. “Harry, what in the world?”

Harry proceeds to take Niall’s place, but scoots over until his side is pressed along Louis’ in some sort of territorial claim. 

Cheeks flushed, Louis turns to Niall who appears to be holding back a laugh. “Harry, you cannot just –” He’s cut off when Harry leans over and tries to bite his shoulder. Sputtering, Louis leaps to his feet, hand pressed to his chest as Niall howls with laughter. 

The alpha seems confused by his resistance, bristling and pouting at what to him feels like a stinging rejection. 

“Alpha, no,” Louis says forcefully, cheeks bright red. Harry was going to bite him! In broad daylight! While he clearly wasn’t aiming for Louis’ bonding spot, he was most certainly seeking a way to display his claim over Louis visibly. Such a thing would cause a scandal, and Louis has tempted fate too much after last night. 

But then he sees Harry’s expression, eyes filled with hurt, and immediately softens with guilt. He moves forward silently and places his hand up against the side of Harry’s face. He can feel the rough raised surface of a gruesome scar that runs along Harry’s cheek, a gory testament of how much the alpha has survived, and he can feel the heat of his skin against his own. 

“I’m yours, Alpha,” he whispers. “No one can change that.”  

He is not sure if Harry understands him, but the alpha leans into his touch all the same letting out a soft rumble of pleasure. 

Niall clears his throat, looking quite uncomfortable when Louis glances at him. “I hadn’t realized how much your presence encourages him,” he says, flicking Harry a glance. 

“Pardon?” Louis breathes, confused by Niall’s words. 

The beta hesitates. “It’s just that… it appears that you seem to evoke Harry’s most wolf-like instincts simply by being present,” he says, nodding at Harry. “Possessiveness of one’s mate being the most distinct example. I could see in his eyes that he saw me as a threat so he attempted to mark his territory and essentially tell me to stay away.” 

Louis blinks, considering Niall’s observation before becoming quickly alarmed. “Do you think… Am I making him worse?” he asks, heart racing. Sensing his distress, Harry growls at Niall warningly. 

“No, no!” Niall exclaims, eyes widening. “No, that is not what I meant to imply. I was just making an observation.” 

“But if you’re right, then my presence is doing the opposite of what it should be,” Louis says, panic rising inside him. “I’m supposed to bring back his human side, not embolden his wolf side.” 

“My lady, do not worry so,” Niall says, regret etched across his face. His use of Louis’ formal title denotes his guilt, and Louis wills himself to stay calm so the beta can continue. “I did not mention this because I believe this will hinder your efforts. If anything, it may assist them. You have a profound influence over Harry, and that is because of his love for you. If he will return to his human side for anyone, it will be you. We just have to figure out how. And we will.” 

Harry completes Niall’s sentiment by pulling Louis towards him, a look of concentration on his face as he takes one of the wildflowers he had picked for Louis and then places it behind his ear. 

“Thank you, Alpha,” Louis says, smiling brightly. He glances at Niall. “And thank you too.” 

Niall just smiles, nodding between them. “I should return to my duties. Enjoy yourselves.” Louis returns his farewell before turning to Harry. 

“Let’s savor this nice weather some more, shall we?” he asks, grabbing his hand. “There is still the rest of the garden to see.” 

⚜️

It is later that evening when Harry and Matilda are finally introduced. 

After dinner, Louis and Elizabeth have retired to the Blue Velvet Room to read and sew respectively while Harry peers over Louis’ shoulder, perhaps trying to make sense of the words. Dinner had been a disorderly affair as he and Elizabeth attempted to guide Harry into using proper utensils to eat for each course. It was a frustrating event by all means, but Louis felt accomplished when Harry cut through his meat instead of shoving it into his mouth. Granted, he used a knife instead of a fork, but Louis will count his victories where he can. And sitting quietly with a good novel and Harry’s warmth at his side is a most satisfying reward. 

Harry is the first to notice Matilda’s presence, letting out a low growl of suspicion. The two have somehow managed to completely avoid each other until now, but Louis is curious to see how their introduction will play out. It is clear that Harry does not remember her, despite having been the one to gift her to Louis in the first place, and it is sensible to assume that Matilda does not recall Harry since she was only a small kitten when they met. 

Louis watches now as Matilda approaches the settee, springing onto the cushion before prancing into Louis’ lap, meowing needily. He smooths a hand over her soft flank and then scratches behind her ears, smiling when she purrs in pleasure. 

“Tilly, darling, this is Harry,” he introduces, gesturing to the alpha who is eyeing the kitten with obvious distrust, as well as envy. Perhaps for holding Louis’ attention so easily. It’s amusing, even more so when Matilda finally notices his presence. 

She and him seem to assess each other. Louis watches in amusement as Matilda hisses, and Harry hisses back, teeth bared. This seems to confuse Matilda, not used to humans speaking her language. She tilts her head and inspects Harry as if he is a particularly intriguing plaything. 

Elizabeth catches Louis’ eye and they share a secret smile.

“Here,” he says, grabbing Harry’s hand and molding it against Matilda’s fur. “Like this.” He guides Harry through petting her, endeared by the sight of Harry’s large palm and the rough pads of his long fingers beside Matilda’s small body and glossy coat. 

Matilda seems wary at first but she inevitably surrenders against Harry’s gentle caresses. She even pushes up against Harry’s palm, purring.

The alpha appears startled by the sound, but not repelled. In fact, he appears encouraged. He does not protest when Louis carefully sets Matilda in his lap where she instantly curls up onto her side, ears tilted back just slightly in an expression of contentment. 

Louis’ heart feels warm as he picks his book up again. It’s a captivating tale following the graceful Miss Lovelace and the devilishly handsome rake, Lord Fairweather. Louis was quite enjoying the story but with Harry beside him slowly becoming smitten with sweet Tilly – and her growing more and more smitten in return – he finds that he cannot quite pay attention. 

He ends up retrieving a ball of yarn and joining Harry in playing with the kitten. Harry seems fascinated with her attachment to the yarn, and Louis cannot hide his own amusement when he decides to bat at the yarn himself, clearly seeking what makes it so entrancing to his new friend. 

Later that night, after a hearty supper and another attempt at teaching table manners, Louis is eager for bed. However, he only returns to his own room to change into his nightclothes before treading down the hall to the guest room, having surpassed any concerns about proprietary after last night. 

Harry built him a nest, after all. It would be unquestionably rude of him not to use it. He falls asleep just as peacefully as the night before, hand pressed to Harry’s chest just over his heart. He can feel each beat reverberate against his palm, a melody of such comfort that it lulls Louis to sleep at once. 

⚜️

The physician Liam called upon finally arrives at Carlton House the next day, an austere and dignified fellow from Derbyshire who greets Louis with a low bow. 

“Thank you sincerely for coming on such short notice, Mr. Bolton,” Louis says graciously, remembering what Liam mentioned about him having left early from visiting his sister to be of their assistance. 

“It is my greatest honor, my lady,” the man says, handing his coat to Henry before following Louis to the Drawing Room.

Harry is waiting inside, eyes narrowing into suspicious slits when he realizes their visitor is an unfamiliar alpha. Elizabeth grasps his shoulder and squeezes gently before standing up so Louis can make their introductions.

Mr. Bolton appears a bit awed in the Luna Dowager’s presence, but she pretends not to notice when he stutters through his greetings.

“Forgive Harry for his lack of manners,” Elizabeth says, gesturing to Harry who wears a scowl on his face. “We are very eager to learn more about his current condition. Would you like to conduct an examination first?” 

“There is no need,” Mr. Bolton nods, taking a seat and opening his small suitcase. “I had to search through my collection of documents to find what we’re looking for but I found it.” He pulls out a stack of papers, each covered in nearly printed black ink. “It appears that the last recorded case of human ferality was nearly fifteen years ago. It was an alpha by the name of Thomas Andrews and he made a full recovery.”

“What caused it?” Louis asks, waiting with bated breath when the doctor hesitates.

“He swallowed poison,” Mr. Bolton finally reveals and Elizabeth lets out a gasp. “He consumed a substantial amount of thallium which had been slipped into a glass of wine intended for his brother, Lord Andrews.”

“Poison made him go feral?” Louis asks, stunned. “It didn’t kill him?”

“It could have,” Mr. Bolton admits. “However, instead it did something quite fascinating. You see, our body has a way of rebelling, if you will, when we get ill. It’s a primal instinct we all have: survival. Mr. Andrews’ body rebelled against the effects of the poison and while in normal circumstances, it would not have been enough, somehow he managed to provoke another internal defense apparatus: our wolves.” 

“I do not understand,” Elizabeth says as Louis’ mind races. 

“In a time of desperation, Mr. Andrews reverted to his inner wolf in order to survive,” Mr. Bolton explains carefully. “It was his way of surviving, and it worked. Albeit, with some difficulty.”

“Do you believe the same happened for Harry?” Louis asks softly, poison echoing in his head. Could it have been possible? Of course, he realizes, though it is not a pleasant thought . Harry was the crown prince, one of the most recognized public figures in the kingdom. He had a great deal of admirers, but surely he had a great deal of enemies too. 

“Good lord,” Elizabeth whispers, distress weighing in her voice. Louis can feel it within himself too, thick and bitter in the back of his throat. 

“I am not certain it was poison but yes, I do believe his Royal Highness was driven to this state at a time of great stakes and danger. The severity of this defensive response is not common by any means. It must have been something so gravely threatening to have elicited such an intense survival instinct. There seems to be no other logical reason,” Mr. Bolton declares with confidence. “I understand this may be upsetting to learn, but I hope this knowledge is useful to you in some way.” 

“And what of reversing it?” Elizabeth asks, concern showing in her face. “If Harry’s current state is a result of his body’s survival instinct then surely it must fade away on its own when he has passed the time of danger?”

“In theory, yes,” Mr. Bolton nods. “Mr. Andrews returned to himself within the time of a month once, I presume, the feeling of danger had fully fled his system. It takes time, you see, even if the event has long gone by.”

Elizabeth voices Louis’ question before he can even open his mouth. “It’s been a year for Harry,” she says. “Has the danger not left him yet?” 

Mr. Bolton hesitates. “You must consider his circumstances,” he says. “His Royal Highness was entirely alone for a year and some weeks. That is an awfully long time to be apart from any other humans, especially from ones you love. And I presume that he remained in the wilderness, surviving completely by his own will and effort. The woods, my ladies, is not a safe place to inhabit in the slightest. He must have experienced a constant feeling of danger every day which only added to the repressed affliction he was carrying. After so much time passing… I imagine the prince is now deeply rooted in his wolf. It is all he had over the past year.”

Louis feels frozen where he sits, the physician’s words sinking into him and painting a picture of despair in his mind. He hadn’t fully comprehended the gravity of Harry’s time away. He had spent so much time hurting by himself, caught between mourning and a stubborn faithfulness that never abandoned him. But though he had felt alone for so much of it, he hadn’t been – not really. He had Elizabeth. Niall. Perrie. Liam and Lucinda. Darling Matilda. Meanwhile, Harry had been on his own for a year and a month, navigating an unknown environment and spending each and every day fighting to survive. 

He looks at Harry now where he sits, ignoring their conversation in favor of tracing the flowers woven into the Brussels carpet. Observing him now, one would not be able to see the pain and suffering he must have endured. Louis had not been able to see it either, but that did not mean it wasn’t there. Somewhere inside, Harry is hurting, and he has been hurting all along from a circumstance none of them know about. One that remains a mystery even now. 

“What can you recall on the day of the prince’s disappearance?” Mr. Bolton asks then, bringing Louis’ own wondering to voice. 

“He had left early to visit a colleague in Dorset,” Elizabeth supplies, voice trembling. “I and my husband were at Buckingham House and Louis was still living with his aunt so no one was present with him that morning at Carlton House. His carriage was found empty and abandoned at the side of the road by a gentleman and his wife at midday. The two footmen that accompanied him were unconscious inside, bearing bruises and small injuries, but there was no sign of Harry.” She hesitates. “Do you think… did he attack them himself?”

“It is a possibility,” Mr. Bolton admits apologetically. “His Royal Highness would not have been in control of himself at the time. I am certain he did not truly mean them harm. Most poisons are slow to spread, if that is what caused it. It will have crept on him and taken him unaware. A carriage is quite a small space, even the larger ones. His first instinct when feeling endangered would have been to seek open ground and escape other people.”

“My goodness,” Elizabeth says, holding her face in her hands as her lips quiver. “Who could have done this to my darling boy?”

Because that is the real question at the end of all this: who? Harry’s state and his subsequent disappearance were not spontaneous. They were deliberate. He felt as if he were in actual danger. The intensity of what Mr. Bolton described is not so easily created. But who? Who could have done it? 

They could have gotten away with it, Louis thinks with a hollow distress. They could have succeeded in their plot and Harry may not have returned at all. And now they may still be lurking in the shadows, perhaps still a danger to them all. A sick, twisted person – but clever too. Clever enough to sneak past all their defenses and carry out their wicked plan. A person possessing great evil. 

Unbidden, a face appears at the forefront of Louis’ mind, and a lump forms in his stomach. It was a preposterous idea… and yet. 

Elizabeth’s words echo in his head for the remainder of Mr. Bolton’s visit. 

⚜️

The following day, Louis is roused by the restless thrash of the alpha beside him. He could feel him shift against the mattress, letting out a myriad of low little grunts and growls that scraped against the inside of Louis’ ears. They are ragged and raw, vulnerable. And they break Louis’ heart.

He turns over onto his side and carefully grips Harry’s shoulder. The alpha jerks, body tensed like a nocked arrow pulled taut. 

“Alpha,” he murmurs, releasing soothing pheromones. “Alpha, it’s me.” He leans in and presses his forehead to Harry’s chest, feeling the alpha’s heat bleed through the thin fabric of his nightshirt. He wonders what Harry was dreaming about that has distressed him so much – memories of the forest and time away? Memories of what pushed him there in the first place? However, what is most important is that Harry is no longer there. He is here, laying beside Louis in their bed. “You’re safe,” he says gently, throwing an arm around Harry’s middle and hugging him close. He wants the words to get through to Harry – for him to understand. After Mr. Bolton’s visit, Louis is more determined than ever to make Harry feel at home here with people who care about him. “You are not alone,” he says. “You will never be alone again.” 

Harry relaxes slowly, tension ebbing from his body bit by bit as he slumps. His breaths come out shallow, the cold of his fingers a stark contrast to the rest of him where he presses them against Louis’ lower back. 

Louis expects it when Harry buries his face in Louis’ neck, seeking his scent for comfort. He tilts his head to give him better access, lifting his hand to stroke Harry’s hair. He does not realize until Harry lets out a soft rumble of approval that he’s started humming. 

It’s a soft little melody – an old lullaby that his father used to sing to him when he was still a pup. He told him later that it was his mother who came up with it before he was born, singing it to her growing stomach every night for months. 

The words come easily to him now even though it’s been a long time since he’s thought of the song. Hesitantly, Louis sings the first few lines. His voice shakes a little bit from dryness and lack of practice, but the alpha grunts for him to continue, nuzzling into his neck. 

He continues shyly, remembering his father’s kind eyes and the way he’d spin Louis around and around until he was giggling into his hands. A sharp pang of longing runs through him and he wavers on the next lyric. 

“More.”

It takes a moment for the word to register, and then another for the voice. Deep and slow, slightly coarse from disuse. 

Louis’ eyes widen, heart leaping to his throat. Had he imagined it or –

“Harry?” he asks carefully, unbridled excitement rising within him.

“More,” Harry repeats, slightly louder this time. He says it with great emphasis, almost over-pronouncing. 

“You said a word,” Louis says, stunned and delighted. He cannot quite believe it. “Oh how I’ve missed your voice.” 

The alpha does not seem to realize that he’s done something remarkable. He once again repeats “More,” and Louis finally obliges, pure happiness coursing through him. 

He sings and pets Harry’s hair until the alpha is rumbling with contentment, arms wrapped tightly around him with the scent of oakmoss and clary sage strong in the air. It feels very intimate singing this lullaby for Harry, one so rooted in his own family history. Intimate, but undeniably nice. 

Louis wonders sometimes if his parents are still looking down at him somewhere, hopefully proud of the person he has grown to become. He wonders what his father would think of Harry – well, barring him being the crown prince, of course. He wonders what his mother would think of him too. She had been friends with Elizabeth, and although Elizabeth has shared some stories of the two of them with him in the past, it still felt sometimes peculiar to imagine his faceless mother alongside the Luna. But if it had not been for their friendship, Louis never would have met Harry, of that he was certain. It was almost horrifying to consider a life where he never met Harry or fell head over heels in love with his heart. 

He is lucky, he thinks. So very lucky. 

It is not long after that Harry begins to drift off, breathing evening out into a soft, steady pattern. His nightmare seems to have vanished without a trace, and Louis hopes it remains so. 

Sleep for him takes a while longer to come, but when it does, Louis dreams of his family and everyone it consists of – by blood or just by love. His father, his mother, even if he barely knew her in person. Elizabeth, Niall, Matilda, and of course, Harry. He imagines them all at a ball together, dancing and laughing without a care in the world. It’s a pleasant dream. 

⚜️

Taking a stroll with Lucinda through the Park is an interesting affair. 

Louis can feel the weight of gazes directed at him as the two of them stroll alongside the Serpentine. Having spent the last week and some at Carlton House without stepping foot outside the grounds, Louis has stayed distant from the gossip and kerfuffles of the rest of the ton, but it could no longer be avoided. By now, the entire kingdom must know of Harry’s return, and the rumors must be rampant across London. They were all staring at him, greedily drinking in every ounce of emotion on his face in an effort to glean more information. Vultures pecking at remains. 

If he had a choice, he would avoid them all together, staying happily in his oblivion at Carlton House with Harry, but he has neglected his duties as a lady of high society for far too long. He needed to make an appearance, and it had to be perfectly arranged, everything from his carefully selected Promenade dress to his practiced neutral expression. He will not give anything away except what he wants them to see. 

Lucinda had been kind to accompany him today, even eager. She fills the tense air with endless chatter, her lighthearted spirit easing some of the mass upon Louis’ chest. Even so, Louis knows that what makes him most anxious is not something Lucinda can distract him from and that is that he is apart from Harry for the first time since he returned. As in, well and truly apart from him. 

Harry is back at Carlton House, spending time with Liam per Louis’ request. He has completely dedicated himself to Mr. Bolton’s revelation over the past few days, intent on creating an atmosphere so warm and welcoming for Harry that he will finally feel safe enough to lower his defenses. Surrounding Harry with people who care about him the most is the first step, and while Harry has been spending plenty of time with Louis and Elizabeth, he has not seen Liam since he returned. Liam and him had been dear friends since their youth, having grown up together from the start. 

They are to visit the stables, Liam had said. Louis had been baffled at the logic behind Harry riding a horse at his current state before Liam explained that he and Harry used to spend a lot of time at the stables. It is a place that is associated with comfort for Harry, Liam is certain, and it may be the perfect chance to reunite Harry with Aeolus, his treasured steed. 

Aeolus was a powerful blue roan thoroughbred, so fast that he lived to his namesake of the Greek god of winds in that he seemed to soar through the air, hooves never touching the ground. He and Harry shared a bond of strong appreciation and respect. Harry had a strict routine of grooming and caring every day that he never broke. 

When Harry was gone, Louis eventually felt sorrow at the thought of Aeolus cramped alone in his stall, no one daring to ride him after Harry’s disappearance. That is, until Louis. It had been nothing grand, of course, just a few rounds around the smaller pasture. In truth, it was terrifying. Aeolus is a massive horse and he was used to a level of experience and standard that Louis frankly did not possess. It went further than that though – Louis felt strange sitting atop Harry’s horse without Harry there and he felt with great certainty that Aeolus felt strange with the weight of someone riding him that wasn’t Harry too. 

It had been the first and last time he rode Aeolus. The poor stallion eventually grew so restless in his quarters that the stable hands took the risk and began to take him on short rides to stretch his muscles and keep him happy. Harry would have appreciated someone taking care of his horse, Louis thinks, and now that he was back, there will be a day when he rides Aeolus again. Louis knows it.

Aside from Liam and a couple other close companions, the final person Louis reached out to is Prince Frederick, via letter the day prior. He is frankly surprised that the alpha hasn’t already called upon them, but he is not aware of the prince’s current schedule nor circumstances so he refrains from making a judgement. He had been brief in his letter, detailing vaguely Harry’s current condition and requesting that he stop by for a visit when he is able to because Harry would undoubtedly be pleased to see him. 

It may well be another week before they hear back from him, seeing that he’s in England in the first place. Until then, Louis is quite confident Harry will be in good hands. 

“When is the last time you’ve been to the shops, darling Louis?” Lucinda asks, jarring him from his thoughts. Had she not spoken so excitedly, Louis would interpret a slight in the question. It is true that he has not made time for the activity in quite a while, but it has always been a practice he enjoyed, especially when concerning the acquisition of new books. 

“I cannot recall,” Louis admits, biting his lip.

Lucinda’s eyes widen in excitement. “We must go,” she declares with emphasis. “I have not gone myself in quite a while – not since I requested this stunning design from Florence and she told me the beading would take a month to complete. It’s ready now, I would be delighted if you accompanied me. Perhaps, we could stop by the jeweler’s afterward for a perusal.” 

At the mention of Florence, Louis smiles. He hasn’t seen the omega for a long time, but she remains his most favorite seamstress in London. Much of his closet is filled with her beautiful designs, including the transcendent wedding dress she had designed for him – the one he never got to wear. He would take it out and look at it sometimes, but never once has he tried it on. He knows it would hurt too much to see himself don a dream that faded away. That dress was a ghost, but he clung to it anyway. 

“I suppose I shall tag along,” Louis decides, eager to speak with an old friend. Perhaps he could observe some new designs as well – it has been a while since he’s bought a new dress.

His friend claps her hands together with glee. “Fabulous,” she says. 

After a short carriage ride to Oxford Street, Louis and Lucinda step into Florence’s shop, freezing when a loud shriek rings through the air. 

“Louis, is that you?” a familiar voice exclaims.

He grins, pleased to know that the omega’s enthusiasm has not faded in their time of distance. Aside from her great deal of talent, Louis carries a deep admiration for the omega’s bold and unabashed character. She conducts her business with wisdom and skill, as well as unrelenting devotion. No one who witnessed the inner workings of her shop would dare call her inferior to any alpha. “Yes, Florence, it is me,” he says when she strides up to him, a look of awe on her face. 

“It is so grand to see you,” she gushes, immediately pulling him into a hug. Her scent of vanilla and primrose sinks into him as she squeezes him tight. “And don’t think I forgot you, my lady,” she directs to Lucinda when they’ve parted. “Your dress is just here. Have a try,” she says, gesturing for one of her seamstresses to bring over the rack where a stunning gown hangs — a pale green crepe dress over a white satin slip, intricately detailed with gold thread down the front and hemming the skirt. 

“Why, it’s utterly breathtaking,” Lucinda says, lifting a hand to cover her mouth.  

“Absolutely stunning,” Louis agrees, knowing Lucinda will look absolutely wonderful in the design. “As expected,” he adds, sending Florence a smile. 

“Oh, hush,” she giggles, eyes sparkling. “You are always too kind to me, my lady.” She then seems to remember something, eyes widening. “Wait a moment, I have something for you, Louis.” 

“You do?” Louis asks, surprised, but the omega has already rushed off. He decides to wait where he is, gasping aloud when Lucinda steps out in her dress. She looks resplendent, cheeks pink with joy as she studies herself in the mirror. 

“It’s perfect,” she sighs happily. 

“You look beautiful,” Louis agrees, happy that his friend is happy. 

Florence returns and beams when she sees Lucinda in her dress. “It looks quite lovely on you, my lady,” she says. 

“I certainly feel lovely in it,” Lucinda giggles. “It’s perfect, Florence. Better than I could have ever dreamed of. Thank you so much.” 

“You are most welcome, my lady. I’m delighted you like it,” Florence says. “Does it fit right?” she asks, approaching Lucinda to check the seams. 

Louis lets them discuss further details, assuming that Florence must have forgotten whatever it was she had for Louis. He isn’t too disappointed, not when Lucinda is smiling so widely. 

“Shall we go?” he asks when Lucinda has paid and thanked Florence profusely some more. It is nearing dinnertime and he would like to return and see Harry. It has only been a few hours and he misses the alpha deeply. 

“No, you mustn't go,” Florence interrupts before Lucinda can reply. She hurries around the counter. “I am waiting on some final detailing from Anne.” 

“Final detailing for what?” Louis asks, confused. 

“Your dress,” Florence says, as if it is obvious. 

“My dress?” Louis echoes, lips parting. “What dress? Florence, you know I haven’t ordered anything in months!” 

“Yes, I know, I know,” Florence says, smiling. “This is a gift. A belated birthday present, if you will. I thought of the design one day on a whim and knew immediately that it was meant for you.”

Louis is at a loss for words, frozen in shock. “You did not have to do such a thing for me,” he is finally able to articulate. “It is too kind, Florence.”

“Nonsense,” she scoffs, brushing him off. “I enjoyed myself greatly.”

“I must pay you,” Louis insists.

Florence shakes her head, firm. “You can pay me by wearing it out and telling anyone who asks just where you got it,” she says slyly. “Aside from that, the only compensation I require is your expression when you see it.”

“This is perfect,” Lucinda murmurs to him. “We can both wear our dresses and surprise our alphas at dinner.”

With both omegas looking at him so eagerly, Louis finally surrenders, smiling shyly. “I’d be honored to have it then.”

Florence claps her hands together, pleased. “Let me get it.”

“I’m not sure Harry will even be able to recognize a new dress let alone properly appreciate it,” Louis says to Lucinda, nothing but fondness in his voice. 

“He may surprise you,” Lucinda says confidently. 

“Here it is,” Florence says, pulling the rack behind her. 

Louis takes a single look at the dress and falls in love. “Oh my,” he breathes. He thinks his expression will be quite satisfying, certain that his mouth must be as wide as a saucer. 

It is a lavender silk dress layered over a white silk slip that shows through at the neckline with chiffon bell-sleeves that hang a bit lower than the usual style, exposing the tops of his shoulders. Silver threading is used for detailing on the bodice, pearls and fabric roses creating the most beautiful effect. Louis cannot stop looking at it, nearly tripping when he carries it into the stall to change. 

Adorning the dress only increases his admiration even more. He feels as if the gown is part of his body – fitting so perfectly against his skin. He steps out into the room and feels like a princess, cheeks glowing.

“A vision,” Florence says.

“You look magnificent,” Lucinda agrees, excitement shining through her words.

All Louis can do is blush. 

⚜️

Louis and Lucinda finally arrive back at Carlton House just minutes before dinner starts. Lucinda insists that this is perfect, desiring a grand entrance.

They make their way to the dining room where the others may already be seated. Louis sees Elizabeth’s reaction first since she sits at the head of the table, gazing out ahead to the door. The omega’s eyes widen when she spots them and then sparkle with amusement, the corner of her lips tilting upwards into a knowing expression. 

“Ladies,” she greets airily. 

Liam turns first, midway through a sentence which halts abruptly when his eyes fall on his wife. His eyes widen to saucers, pure awe overtaking his expression. However, Louis isn’t paying attention, because Harry has turned around too. 

He does not react as obviously as Liam had, but Louis can feel the heat of his gaze rake over his body. He stands up, and Louis is still as he approaches, scent growing thicker. 

“Pretty,” he murmurs when he stops in front of Louis, voice low. 

Louis feels his cheeks color, head ducking to hide. “Thank you, Alpha.” He still isn’t quite used to the sound of Harry’s voice, so familiar yet surprising every time. 

Lucinda seems taken aback though, sending Louis a delighted look. “He’s speaking?” 

“Just bits and pieces these last few days, but we treasure every word,” Elizabeth says, looking fond. “He spoke an entire sentence after he returned from his ride with Liam. They had a good day.” 

“Ride? He rode Aeolus?” Louis asks, stunned. 

“I wasn’t going to let him but he had already mounted and began walking Aeolus out of the stables before I could protest,” Liam reveals, amusement coating his voice. “His abilities seem to have remained with him for he had no difficulties. Still, we stuck to the pastures.” 

“That’s incredible,” Louis says, smiling at the thought of Harry riding Aeolus again. He turns to direct his smile at Harry but the alpha has vanished.

He returns before Louis can open his mouth, clutching a bundle of beautiful crimson roses in his hand. He hands them to Louis with almost a bashful expression on his face, murmuring a soft, “For you,” that has Louis blushing. Lucinda and Elizabeth coo around them. 

“Ah, yes, we stopped by the gardens as well,” Liam explains, smiling. 

Louis feels as if he is floating when Harry guides him to the table with a hand at the small of his back, pulling the chair out for him to sit down before taking the seat next to him. Louis has a suspicion that Elizabeth may have had a hand in this little act of gentlemanliness but that only endears him further. He feels as if he’s back to the time of their courtship, receiving flowers from Harry every day and trading shy but soft glances. 

Throughout dinner, Harry cannot take his eyes off Louis, and subsequently, Louis remains a shade of pink for each course of their meal. Liam speaks jovially of their day spent together and Elizabeth and Lucinda share gossip about all the ladies in Mayfair and their ample dramas. Louis is content to listen and add whenever he fancies. 

Harry remains as quiet as he usually is at meals, but he is no less attentive. He refills Louis’ glass of water at once when it’s emptied, before one of the footmen could do it themselves. And he seems to observe Louis closely to make sure he’s eating enough, frowning when he turns away a serving of fish. And when he does take a portion of meat, Harry insists on cutting it for him. It is a rather traditional practice, representing the alpha’s urge to be the one to provide for their omega. He’s been doing it all week, and Louis has allowed him to, knowing it brings Harry satisfaction and pleasure. He allows him to do it now, smiling fondly when Harry sets the knife and fork down and returns to his own plate. 

After eating, Louis plays piano for their guests in the drawing room. It’s been quite a while since he’s played, having not had many guests to entertain, but Liam and Lucinda clap enthusiastically when he finishes. Harry, of course, claps loudest of all. 

Eventually, he and Elizabeth bid the Paynes farewell, promising to invite them for dinner again in the near future. Louis is surprised to note that he feels disappointed to see them go, having expected to feel some relief at their departure – not on account of the company themselves for Liam and Lucinda are both dear to him, but because he is most content when he is able to be as he pleases, not dictated by the rules of society and decorum as he is when hosting any visitors. It felt nice, however, to have dinner with friends without a sadness hanging over all of them – with Harry there, right beside him where he belongs as they interact with those they love. 

He cannot help but imagine a future filled exactly with that. He can picture it so clearly. Harry lavishing him with sweet compliments and golden praise, pulling his chair out for him every day right beside him. Making sure he’s happy and fulfilled. He imagines dinners filled with shy smiles but also loud laughter, hands brushing and words whispered over the rims of their wine glasses. A future swollen with love and joy at the dinner table. 

These pleasant thoughts remain in his head when they retire to bed later that night after a small supper. They are still sleeping in one of the guestrooms, cradled by the now vast nest Harry has so lovingly assembled to protect him and keep him safe and warm during the night. Louis still has his old nest in his room but there is now contest when one of them lacks the presence of his alpha in it. 

Harry holds him close as he does every night, but tonight he surprises Louis by taking his hand, bringing it up to his lips to kiss Louis’ knuckles followed by the top of his engagement ring. Louis is stunned at the gesture and then pleased because it means Harry remembers. He remembers that they are engaged and that he was the one who placed that ring on Louis’ finger, making him a promise. 

He falls asleep smiling, and dreams of a thousand nights just like this. 

⚜️

In all fairness, Louis should have remembered that all good things must come to an end – or, must be interrupted, at least. 

His interruption arrives later that week during the intermission of the play he came to see with Florence, who called upon Carlton House to invite him the day prior. They are at the Dilettanti Theatre on Tottenham Court, one of the most renowned private theatres in all of London. Florence is discussing the events of the first act quite animatedly when Louis hears a familiar voice. 

It is the Most Honorable Grace Tomlinson, the new Marchioness of Camden and his cousin Robert’s wife. “Oh, Lady Tomlinson it is you,” she says, delighted. She greets him with an embrace that he returns reluctantly, the realization that she must not be alone tasting bitter on his tongue. 

“Lady Camden, this is Miss Florence Pugh. Florence, this is my cousin-in-law, Lady Grace Tomlinson, the Marchioness of Camden,” he introduces, since he is certain they have not been acquainted previously. He cannot deny that it pleases him to state her title, knowing it has been stripped from her predecessor. They both curtsy, speaking their greetings with polite smiles. 

His worst suspicions are proven correct when his cousin joins them a moment later, with the devil on his arm. The devil meaning Lady Margaret, of course, adorned in all white including a veil that hides the cruel glint in her eyes as she appraises Louis. 

“Louis,” she greets. 

“Margaret,” Louis returns evenly, abandoning her prefix without hesitation. He is certain their witnesses can detect the poison in his tone, but he finds that he is not concerned about the matter. Not when he has spent so long trying to impress and please this woman. This woman who has treated him callously and coldly his entire life. He has all but begged for her love, and when he realized he would never earn that, her respect. And in return, she attempted to sell him off to the highest bidder when he was still swamped with grief. 

An uncomfortable tension has formed between the party of four, but Louis remains constant in his snub. Lord Robert does not address him after this, seemingly taking his mother’s side. So it is just Lady Grace who inquires politely on his health as well as the health of the prince and the Luna Dowager. She appears genuine, a stark contrast to many of the inquiries and well wishes he had received upon arriving at the theatre from acquaintances such as the Duchess of Barrymore, and Sir William Andrews and his wife. He feels some guilt that the two of them have never progressed beyond acquaintances after she married Robert – that he never gave her a chance to distinguish herself from his family members in terms of character. 

Still, he cannot fully enjoy her company with his aunt’s draining presence so near. He can almost feel her gaze pierce his skin, trying to read between the lines of his brief answers and peer into his very soul for the truth. Though his regard for her has diminished to the barest trace over the course of the last few years, he is still unnerved by her. He wonders if there will ever be a time he won’t be. 

This is evident when Lady Grace asks if they’ve discussed dates for the new coronation yet and the omega lets out a perfectly unladylike snort. Her expression is pointed and smug, as if saying that she knew something they didn’t. 

Embarrassed and frustrated, Louis forces himself to proceed and answer that he has not heard anything official since it is between Harry and the Court. 

He is relieved when they are called to return to their seats for the second act, sending Florence a thin smile when she squeezes his shoulder comfortingly. As the play continues, Louis resolves himself to pretend as if the encounter never happened. His efforts are, of course, in waste, for his skin prickles with the weight of his aunt’s stare for the rest of the play, a stain on what was supposed to be a lovely night. 

After bidding Florence a farewell, he returns to Carlton House in his carriage. The noise of wheels and hooves hitting cobblestones grates upon his ears, adding to the throbbing that has unfolded in his temples. By the time he returns and Henry helps him outside of the carriage, his head is pounding and his mood has soured beyond repair. He is close to tears as he pokes his head into the drawing room where a gleam of light is peeking through the door frame.  

The warm glow from the fireplace illuminates Harry’s broad back where he sits on the carpet, Matilda curled up in his lap as he studies the page of one of Louis’ books intently. His head snaps up when Louis lets out a small sob, alarm etched across his face. 

Louis can only take a single step before Harry is there, sweeping him up into his arms, scent enveloping him and replacing the lingering tartness of the night. He buries his face in Harry’s neck, soaking his linen shirt with tears as the alpha holds him close, arms warm around him. They sway gently from side to side as Harry hushes him, wiping the tears from his cheeks with gentle fingers and pressing a soft kiss to his forehead. 

Matilda winds through their legs, rubbing her head against Louis’ ankle and meowing in her own version of comfort. 

It takes him a while to realize Harry is murmuring something to him. He focuses on the cadence of his voice, deep and dulcet into his ears, until his breathing begins to even out. “You’re safe,” he is saying. “You are not alone. You will never be alone.”

The very same words Louis whispered to Harry under the cover of night are now being repeated back to him, an intensity in the alpha’s tone that drains the tension from his body, leaving him lax and content. He clings to Harry when the alpha hoists him up into his arms with great ease, carrying him outside of the room with deft steps. 

He carries Louis all the way upstairs to their nest, laying him down gently. Louis watches with teary eyes as Harry gently grips his right slipper, sliding it off and dropping it onto the floor before repeating the same with his other one. He tucks Louis in with the softest blanket of them all, leaning in and pressing a kiss to his forehead again. Then he picks up Matilda, who followed them from downstairs, placing her onto the bed too where she immediately makes a home for herself between the curtains and one of Harry’s jackets. 

“Thank you,” Louis murmurs once Harry has settled beside him, tugging him to his chest. 

Harry is quiet for a moment, before whispering “Always.”

It is another promise and it wraps around Louis like smooth silk as he drifts to sleep.

⚜️

Louis is certain that this is a dreadful idea.

Yet there is nothing he can do. He sits in the carriage beside Harry, dressed in a white dress with a pale yellow jacket and beaded satin gloves. Harry is dressed to perfection, hair coiffed and jacket decked with Royal emblems and pins. He is tense, limbs rigid as the carriage jerks and quivers down the streets. Louis cannot fathom what he is picturing – or remembering, as this is not so different a carriage than the one he left in that one terrible day. 

His hand is tightly interlaced with Louis’ own, and Louis is not sure who is seeking more comfort out of the two of them at this moment. 

The people want to see their prince. The words echo in Louis’ head in a slightly exaggerated version of the voice of the alpha who paid Carlton House a visit the day before, informing them of the Council’s request for Harry to be seen with Louis in public. A reassurance to the ton and to the rest of the kingdom as well.

He had protested immediately, picturing Harry amongst the nosy and sharpened claws of the beau monde. They are relentless and absolutely besotted with the crown prince who returned against all odds. This Harry is not prepared for their intensity.

Louis is not prepared for their intensity. 

But he didn’t have a choice. Though it was not explicitly given as an order, there was a dangerous edge of persuasion in the alpha visitor’s voice that Louis knew was a warning. 

So here he is, halfway to Kensington Gardens with an anxious alpha at his side and a town of crows at their necks. While they may not know yet that Harry will be present at the gardens, Louis is very aware that it is only a matter of time before they do. And when they do, they will flock to see him in droves. 

All he can do is hold onto Harry’s larger hand as tight as he can, making sure he doesn’t slip away. 

When they finally arrive, Harry steps out first and then turns to help Louis down the high step, sending Jacob a warning glare. The beta had made the mistake of attempting to help Louis enter the carriage in Harry’s close proximity, and Louis is certain he is now deeply regretting it. He mouths an apology before Harry tugs him away. 

Following close behind them, of course, are a quartet of solemn alpha guards. They will be accompanying them on their stroll as an escort from a safe distance behind. This is far from an uncommon occurrence for Louis, having experienced all the precautions involved with being courted by royalty, and although their never ending presence had once irritated him greatly, he feels a strong sense of relief and gratitude that they are here today. 

They act as a natural barrier as Louis places his hand in the crook of Harry’s arm and they set off onto the path. It is a bit windier than Louis expected it to be, and though his bonnet is tied on securely, the breeze slips beneath the brim and ruffles through his fringe. He crowds closer to Harry to steal some of his warmth. 

As of now, there are only a few other couples strolling along the path, but already they are garnering curious looks. The very noticeable line of uniformed alphas behind them is both a blessing and a curse. 

Deciding to distract himself from their observers, Louis clears his throat. “Isn’t it pretty out?” he asks, leaning into Harry who still hasn’t learned to lessen his scent pheromones while around company. 

“Pretty,” Harry agrees, glancing down at him. If Louis did not know any better, he’d think the alpha was smirking. 

“I meant the park,” he mumbles, blushing. 

“You are prettier,” Harry murmurs. 

Louis ducks his head, internally preening. Somehow, he had forgotten how charming the prince could be. His bright eyes and roguish smile are reminiscent of the days of their courtship. “Charmer,” he mutters.

Harry’s smug grin just makes his heart flutter more. 

For a while, Louis convinces himself that there was nothing to worry about – things are going smoothly and that has no reason to change. The guards have excelled in encouraging any passersby to maintain their distance, and he and Harry have not been disturbed. 

Of course, Louis is proven wrong. 

It happens gradually. More and more people seem to appear in the gardens for a stroll. Most of them stay far away, but some of them inch their way closer, trying to snag a better peek at the prince and his omega. 

He feels when Harry begins to tense, nostrils flaring. 

“Do you know what I read in the Morning Chronicle today?” Louis asks then. Harry is not usually one to be amused or entertained by ton gossip but it provides suitable distraction. “Apparently, the young Lady Dashwood has gone off with the family groomer to elope at Gretna Green. The Duke and his men chased them all the way across the border but they were too late.” Out of the corner of his eye, he sees a lone alpha in a top hat wandering toward them, making little effort to hide his staring. “Do you remember Lady Dashwood? Her older brother is Lord Michael Dashwood, one of your friends.” He remembers her saying once that she did not believe in true love until she witnessed he and Harry together. He hopes that she has now found it for herself. 

The alpha who had been creeping closer is stopped abruptly by one of the guards, but the damage has been done. Harry is breathing hard beside him, stiff and rigid in a way he never is. By his scent, Louis knows he is feeling threatened. He knew this was a terrible idea. 

“Alpha, listen to me,” he murmurs, trying to get Harry to focus only on his voice. “Do not pay attention to anyone else. It is just you and me on this walk, together. This will all be finished soon and then we can return to Carlton House and continue reading that novel we started.”

Harry’s eyes seem to lose some of their hazy quality at his words, but his steps remain stilted and guarded. 

“Let us see the lake,” Louis says lightly, steering them away from the main path to approach the Serpentine in the distance. The waters are blue and delightfully calm despite the wind. He gasps when he spots a brood of baby ducklings following their mother along the water’s edge. He clutches Harry’s arm. “Oh, Harry, look! They’re precious.” 

So small and beautiful with their soft dappled coats, tripping over the grass to follow their mother as she wades into the water. Louis sighs, thoughts drifting to pups. He glances at Harry only to find the alpha already looking at him, a fond smile on his face. 

Their soft moment is disrupted by a loud laugh in the near distance. A trio of ladies Louis does not recognize are strolling along the path, clearly putting effort into pretending they are not aware of their proximity to the crown prince even with the not-so-discreet glances the omega in yellow keeps directing to Harry. 

Vexed, Louis sighs. Although he expected the attention and lack of peace, it is still frustrating to have to endure the constant scrutiny when all he wants is to enjoy a walk with his alpha. When Harry pulls Louis closer to his side, he leans into it easily, seeking his comfort. His eyes flutter shut and he takes a deep breath. 

It almost does not register when Harry tilts his face, burying his face into Louis’ neck and letting out a soft growl as he begins to emit strong pheromones.  

Louis freezes in place, horror and then panic registering inside him. Scenting in public places is absolutely obscene. His cheeks burn at the distinct sound of gasps sounding around them, and a muffled cough from one of the guards. He does not want to think about how many people are present and witnessed this. 

Slowly and with utmost restraint, Louis extricates himself from Harry’s hold, feeling the stares that are boring into him. He knows they are all inwardly recording the instance, memorizing his red cheeks and flustered expression. It won’t be long before they’re whispering to their friends with sly smiles. You’ll never believe what I saw at the Park… “Alpha, please do not do that,” he murmurs, voice slightly strangled. 

Harry doesn’t seem to listen, frowning as he once again tries to lean in and comfort Louis the best way he knows how. 

“Alpha,” Louis says, pressing his face into Harry’s shoulder, willing his flush to subside. “Alpha, just five more minutes, I promise. Please.” 

Although confused, Harry thankfully halts his advances. Louis breathes in and out a few times before straightening his posture and lifting his head. He will act as if nothing untoward happened at all. Harry is a prince for goodness sake. The precedents do not apply to him. 

Still, Louis becomes more and more relieved with every step they take back to the carriage. Henry jumps up to open the door for them, and Harry holds his hand out to help him up onto the platform. Just before Louis places his hand into his, his gaze catches on a carriage passing down the road behind theirs. 

The wood is stained ebony and is embellished with bold silver detailing, windows opened to reveal the red velvet of the inside compartment as well as the passenger who stares out onto the road. Louis feels a cold shiver run through his body as the alpha’s head turns slowly and their eyes meet. A piercing slate gaze lingers on him until the carriage disappears into the distance.

“My lady?” Henry asks hesitantly, and Louis realizes he has frozen in place. 

Harry is looking at him with both confusion and tender concern, a frown gracing his lips.

Shaking his head as if to clear the icky feeling that has festered beneath his skin, Louis pulls his lips into some semblance of a smile. “Pardon me,” he says lightly, taking Harry’s offered hand before stepping up and inside the carriage.

The alpha follows, hand hovering over his lower back before they both sit down.

“I am fine,” Louis promises when he takes note of Harry’s expression. He feels some of the weight on his chest ease when Harry lifts his hand and kisses the back of his hand before resting their intertwined fingers on his thigh. 

During the ride back to Carlton House, Harry rubs small circles into the back of Louis’ hand with his thumb, trying to soothe him. Louis is grateful for the gentle touches, but they do not lessen the lump in his stomach. All he can see when his eyes close is those sharp eyes peering at him from the carriage window. 

He turns and studies Harry, tracing the angle of his jaw, the slope of his nose, and the bow of his lips. By some miracle, Harry has been returned to him safe and sound and he has been given a second chance at the happy ending he spent most of his life believing he would never deserve. Everything he has ever wanted sits right beside him, tangible and real.

Yet, for the first time, Louis can see the fragility that lies in the spaces between them. The delicate threads that weave their fate laid out around them, so easily tangled… or cut. For the first time, Harry’s return does not feel so absolute. 

Mr. Bolton’s words echo in his mind as well as the mystery that still shrouds Harry’s disappearance. Louis realizes with great certainty that the true danger still remains. It is out there, brewing like a storm. 

⚜️

The following day, Louis avoids any and every newspaper with great dedication. Although Elizabeth assures him countless times that the gossip regarding his and Harry’s stroll through the park is not so terrible as he frets – and that in fact, some columns, such as his favorite written by an anonymous Miss Moon, were cooing at Harry’s obvious passion for his omega – Louis cannot face it just yet. 

Besides, he had more pressing concerns on his mind. 

After Liam arrived to go riding with Harry on the grounds, Louis went searching for Niall.

He finds the beta in the kitchens with Ms. Edith, the cook, stuffing a freshly baked loaf of bread into his mouth.

“I see you are the bread thief plaguing the halls of Carlton House,” Louis sniffs, taking a seat beside him and smiling when Niall flinches in surprise. 

“Christ,” he mutters, rubbing his temples. “What do you want?” he asks warily.

“Have some respect, child,” Ms. Edith scolds, flicking him with the end of her dish towel. “You are speaking to the lady of the house.”

“Oh, calm yourself, Edith,” Niall grumbles, scowling as he rubs his arm now. “Louis does not mind.”

“Actually, a proper greeting would be nice,” Louis says slyly, ignoring Niall’s glare. “Ms. Edith, could you give us a moment please? By the way, the bread smells delightful.”

“Thank you, my lady,” she says, nodding as she slips into one of the adjoining rooms. Ms. Edith has been employed at Carlton House since even before Harry had presented and she maintains her position as head cook with great pride. 

“What is it?” Niall asks when she’s left, expression growing more solemn now that he has realized the nature of Louis’ visit. “Are you well?”

“I am,” Louis conforms, letting out a small sigh. “I… I have a request.”

Niall arches a brow, but nods. “Speak away, my lady.”

“Will you please… keep your eyes peeled?” Louis asks carefully. “Amongst the household particularly. Just, if you see or hear anything suspicious. I am… I am afraid that there may be someone with ill intentions toward the prince still employed at the house. This belief may be rooted in delusions but it would ease my mind to know that we can prevent any possible crisis.” 

“The poison,” Niall supplies, speaking so softly that Louis himself almost misses it. 

He nods slowly. Niall had been the only one whom he shared the details of Mr. Bolton’s visit beyond those already present in the room, as well as the only one who he confided his suspicion toward Prince Augustus to. He does not hesitate to explain the encounter of the day prior which has left him with a bitter taste on his tongue. 

“Goodness,” he breathes when Louis finishes. “Do you think it was really him?”

“I am not sure what I think,” Louis admits, shaking his head. He is aware that the very idea sounds preposterous. A prince plotting the murder of his very own nephew? He had dismissed the idea when it first occurred to him, and he knows he should dismiss it again especially since the encounter outside Kensington Gardens proved nothing except Louis’ own bias, but he cannot. “You cannot deny that it is he who has the most to gain with Harry’s… death,” he says, faltering at the word.

“You are right,” Niall nods. “But why then? When his late majesty was alive and recovered from his sickness?”

Louis’ heart pangs at the mention of the late king. “Early preparations?” he puts forth after a moment of silence. “His majesty had fallen ill once before so perhaps he did not think it so far-fetched that he would fall ill again, and if Harry were out of the running… Perhaps I am wrong.” He shakes his head. “I don’t know, Niall. I cannot explain it. I just have this feeling that the worst is not over yet. That Harry may still be in danger.” 

Niall stays quiet, nodding for him to continue.

“I do not know if it is the truth or only paranoia, but I cannot stop thinking about it,” he confesses. “The thought of losing him again… I could not bear it, Niall. I couldn’t.” 

“You won’t,” Niall says firmly. “He will not go anywhere.”

“There is no way to ensure that,” Louis says, lips twisting into a grimace. He shakes his head, refusing to continue his line of thinking. “I would just like you to keep a lookout, please.” 

“I will monitor every step of cooking myself if I have to,” Niall promises, patting his shoulder. 

Louis exhales, ducking his head. “I thank you sincerely, Niall.”

The beta smiles kindly, before responding “Next time thank me with more bread.” He grins. 

“Idiot,” Louis murmurs, but it is said with fondness. 

After his conversation with Niall, Louis makes his way back to the drawing room where Elizabeth sits, carefully stitching another patch of fabric into her quilt. She does not notice him at first, brows furrowed in concentration as she works. It is in this moment where the omega is unguarded and unaware of any scrutiny that Louis observes the exhaustion heavy in her face, tension laced in her shoulders and a downward turn to her mouth. 

Sometimes it does not quite register that the late King James has been dead for less than two months – a sum of time so little that Elizabeth must still feel the loss like it was yesterday. She has made ample effort to hide her sorrow from Louis and the others, especially since Harry’s reappearance, setting aside her own pain to focus on her son. But one cannot replace the loss of one with the return of another. One thing Louis knows all too well is that you cannot run from your grief. 

He had come to see Elizabeth to share his theory about Prince Augustus with hopes that she could either encourage or extinguish the idea once and for all. But now, watching her quietly from the door, he changes his mind. He will not further burden the mind of the omega with more worries and woes. She has endured ample of those already. 

Smoothing his face into one of casual interest, he finally steps into the room. 

Elizabeth looks up, face loosening into a warm smile. “Oh, Louis, darling. You must come sew with me.” 

“I would love to,” Louis says, smiling back. 

He and Elizabeth sew mostly in silence, but engage in small conversation even about the most mundane of things. He is surprised when she begins to discuss Carlton House. 

“It had been Her Majesty, the late Queen Amelia’s project in her later years,” she explains, a wistful expression overtaking her face. “After she died, James was determined to have it completed, and he hired the best architect in the kingdom to do it. He came every other day to oversee the progress made and appraise every detail. He would get upset when something wasn’t done the way he wanted it, and I never understood why he cared so much… That is, until it was finished.” She smiles softly. “Harry was only a year old when we came to tour the new house. I was holding him in my arms when James leaned down to tell him, ‘This is your house, Harry. I built this for you.’ Ever since then, I have loved this place.” 

Overcome with emotion, Louis looks around at the walls of the Crimson Drawing Room with new eyes. Carlton House did not just belong to Harry – it was made for him. It was built with the love and devotion of a father for his son, and that love is now embedded in its walls. It is not just a house, but a home. 

⚜️

Another week passes and Harry's improvement only increases. 

He begins speaking more, learning and remembering the names of his most dearest as well as the names of the servants. Louis hides a smile one morning when Harry thanks Roland by name and the beta beams with pride. 

Most remarkably, he is remembering more too – not everything, but things all the same. He remembers Elizabeth’s favorite flowers, presenting her with a bundle of cornflowers and making the omega weep. He remembers how to play Billiards and he and Liam have quite an intense game one afternoon while Lucinda, Elizabeth, and Louis went outside to paint. Louis has not practiced in a while, but he thoroughly enjoys himself despite it.

When they go see the opera together – as well as with Florence who acts as their unofficial “chaperone” for they could not bring an entire section of guards into the opera house – as another request from the Council to make an appearance, Harry remembers every acquaintance they stop to chat to between each act. He holds Louis’ hand through the show and whispers his commentary into Louis’ ear between dialogue. 

And, he remembers things about Louis. How he could not fall asleep if he did not have a cup of tea beforehand. How he likes to fuss with his fringe when he’s nervous – to which Harry would grip his hand so he cannot, squeezing it reassuringly instead. How he loves to be kissed on the forehead or the temple. How petting down his spine would make him purr like a kitten. 

There are still plenty of things he does not remember, including the events that led up to his disappearance. Every time Louis would broach the subject, Harry would express nothing but confusion. He does not seem to notice the absence of his father, or perhaps, he does not want to notice. Both Louis and Elizabeth are too afraid to tell him themselves so they leave things be. 

With a bit less than half the time until their deadline, Louis is no longer worried or concerned that Harry will not be ready. Even the most stubborn of doubters would agree that Harry is once again more human than wolf. The deadline looms closer and closer, and Louis is not in the slightest bit concerned about it. 

He is thinking this most strongly when he reads the letter from the Council of Regency that had arrived that morning in the mail, reminding him of the impending date of their agreement as well as requesting that Harry begin to ease his way back to Court. If he is to be king, he must catch up everything he has missed and it is most certainly a lot. He makes note to discuss it with Harry, but later, as the alpha is currently tossing a ball of yarn back and forth with Matilda across the room and there isn’t anything Louis would disturb that for. 

Setting that letter aside to respond to, he flips through a letter from Lady Margaret which he promptly disposes of, certain it would just be filled with more false pleasantries and greedy requests, before stopping at a letter addressed from a familiar name. He begins to read carefully. 

Dear Lady Tomlinson,

It is most lovely to hear from you. I am indeed well, thank you. I must apologize for my late response. I have been swamped with business here in Surrey over the last couple of weeks and have only sat down to read your letter now. 

Although I am tardy in my reading, I have known about dear Harry’s return almost from the start. My good friend, the Most Hon. William Spencer, Duke of Devonshire, rode to tell me personally from the moment he heard. When he spoke the words aloud, I did not believe him. I thought he was toying with me, frankly. It was not until I received an influx in visitors all expressing their joy at the news that it finally began to sink in. 

I was never one to believe in miracles, but after the past fortnight, I must say that I have changed my mind. I still cannot quite believe it in honesty. Perhaps that will change once I am able to see him in person again. Speaking on the matter, I am most terribly sorry that I have not visited already. I have been trapped here all month dealing with certain affairs, although I plan on returning to London in March. That may be too late to provide any of the assistance you requested but I have no doubt that he is in good hands in my absence. Do tell him that I am eager to see him as soon as possible. We shall go sailing or to see the races. I have yet to go this season. 

I also cannot help but ask if there has been any insight into the circumstances of Harry’s disappearance? For all my preaching of miracles, I will admit I am most curious to know. Where has he been all this time? What happened to him? Your description of his current nature is equally fascinating and confusing. 

All that aside, I am most happy to hear that Harry has returned home where he belongs and I wish nothing but the best for his recovery. Expect my card when I arrive in London for I will be headed to Carlton House as soon as I visit my father. He has been quite silent these past few weeks which is peculiar of him. 

Please give Elizabeth and Harry my regards. 

Best,

Prince Frederick Styles 

Louis grimaces when he finishes Frederick’s letter. It is good to hear from the alpha especially since their last meeting was both brief and unpleasant, due to the revelation it brought about. However, he would have preferred the omission of his father. He has been quite silent these past few weeks which is peculiar of him. 

Once again, that dreadful feeling of knowing envelops him. He tamps it down, taking a deep breath. Harry is safe, he tells himself. Niall is still keeping a lookout behind the scenes and has not heard nor seen anything amiss or untoward. Louis has remained vigilant himself and he is certain that everyone is, if only from unconscious fear that this miracle, as Prince Frederick worded it, will disappear if they looked away too long. 

Folding Frederick’s letter away, he resolves himself to respond when he is not so affected. Inwardly, he is not sure when that will be. 

Sighing, he turns to the couch where Harry had been laying and smiles. The alpha is now sitting with Matilda curled up in his lap, one large hand running through her fur as he reads a novel. One strand of his hair has fallen against his forehead, lips pursed into a look of concentration as he reads each page. He looks up when Louis comes in, lifting an arm in an unspoken invitation. 

Pleased, Louis happily tucks himself against Harry’s side, resting his cheek on his shoulder as Harry tugs him closer, hand resting at his waist. Harry turns and presses a kiss to his temple and he preens. Then the alpha tilts the book so that Louis is able to read it better, and although Louis has already read it numerous times, he reads with Harry until dinner. 

⚜️

Louis is lurched from sleep in the dead of the night, heart in his throat when he realizes he cannot feel Harry holding him any longer. It is dark all around him, all lights snuffed and the moon only a sliver in the sky on that particular night. 

“Harry?” he calls out, voice wavering. The alpha’s scent is faint, as if he’s been missing for a while. For a moment, panic overtakes him and bile rises in his throat. 

He stumbles to his feet, struggling for a moment to light a beeswax candle. The flickering flame provides a soft glow of light as he creeps across the room. His hand closes around the handle of the door and he winces when a loud creak breaks through the silent air. 

There is no one in the corridor except the two guards that are stationed on the second floor for protection. They nod at Louis as he passes them, but otherwise remain in their stoic silence. Unsure where to look, Louis closes his eyes and thinks. Where would Harry be? 

His feet begin to move before he knows it, drifting down the grand staircase and walking quietly across the marble floors of the vestibule to the ante-chamber. He turns right there to enter the State Apartments, a section of the house that has remained rather empty over the past year. He crosses the Rose Satin room before finally standing at the threshold of the Old Throne room. 

Though he cannot see him, the distinct scent of oakmoss and clary sage meets him. He steps inside, heart thumping against his chest. “Alpha?” he whispers. 

“Lou?” comes Harry’s voice. It is hoarse and heavy with emotion. 

Louis lifts his candle higher, finally finding the shape of Harry’s silhouette exactly where he expected him to be. The Old Throne room, though abandoned for its purpose in favor of the larger chamber adjacent, houses a number of large paintings. There is one of Queen Amelia just to Louis’ left, a beautiful dignity captured in her solemn expression. On the adjoining wall is a portrait of King James in his coronation robes, regal and majestic. 

However, there is also a smaller portrait beside it. One that depicts three figures instead of one. King James, Luna Elizabeth, and swaddled in the omega’s arms: an infant Harry. This is the painting that Harry is kneeling before now, and where Louis makes his way to. 

He has studied it numerous times before, more so than any other painting in the room. For those other portraits may chronicle rulers, this one chronicles love. Harry is just a baby in it, not even a year old, but the painter had etched his wide green eyes to hold a complexity to them far beyond his age. 

“He’s dead, isn’t he?” 

It takes a moment for Louis to process Harry’s haunted words, quiet but desperate. There is deep sorrow embedded in his voice. He closes his eyes, knowing that he could keep Harry from this torment no longer. “Yes.” 

Harry does not respond. He does not move as Louis crouches in his nightgown to kneel beside him. Louis places the candle on the floor and the light casts a glow over Harry’s masked face. He does not react when Louis winds their hands together. His skin is cold. 

“I never said goodbye,” Harry whispers an immeasurable period of time later. 

“You did not know,” Louis whispers back, pained on his behalf. 

“He’s gone,” Harry repeats, as if he cannot quite fathom it. “I knew it all these weeks, but I could not bring myself to –” He breathes harshly. “He’s gone.” 

Louis hesitates. “Physically, perhaps,” he says. “But he still exists in your memories of him. In your heart. He always will.”

The alpha does not respond, but Louis knows he heard him and that is what is important. Silence encompasses the room and the small flame of the candle sparks and wanes in the dark. Louis’ legs grow stiff from sitting for so long but he does not move until Harry lets out a shaky breath and quietly begins to cry. He wraps his arms around Harry’s neck and rubs his back like a mother might a child, releasing as many comforting pheromones as he can. “I’m sorry,” Louis whispers like a prayer. “I’m so sorry, Harry.” 

⚜️

On the first day of Spring, Elizabeth leaves Carlton House for the first time since she arrived in order to accompany Harry to St. George’s Chapel where King James was buried. 

They are gone all day and when they return, both bear vermilion lined eyes and sombre faces. 

“I will be okay,” Harry promises him later that night, voice low in a whisper. He has been quiet and distant since that night four days prior, processing his grief on his own. As much as Louis wishes to be there for him, helping him carry the weight, he knows this is a journey Harry must travel alone. 

“I know,” Louis tells him just as quietly. He leans over and presses a kiss over Harry’s heart. “I love you. I’m here.”

Harry kisses the top of his head, and echoes, “I know.” 

⚜️

As it always does, it happens quickly. 

Harry was already up and out with Aeolus by the time Louis woke up and though he was disappointed not to awaken in the alpha’s arms and greet him good morning, he carried on with his day as normal. It had been a rough past week in more ways than one, but Louis felt closer to the alpha than ever. 

The dull throb in his temples was the first sign, but he easily blamed it on the stress he’s been feeling lately with every new planned outing. Then came the itchiness, a creeping feeling that spread beneath his skin all across his body until even the soft silk of his shirt felt harsh against his feverish skin.

Louis felt lightheaded, wishing strongly that Harry were there with him because he knew Harry’s presence would ease the pain. This was the thought that crossed his mind right before the realization settled. 

He was going into heat.

Now that he thinks about it, he should have been anticipating it for days prior. Like most omegas, Louis consumes special herbs that suppress most of his heats – something he is expected to do until marriage – but once a year, one slips in reliably like clockwork. However, he has been so occupied that the dates have flown by without his awareness. His heat has snuck up on him, and now he is completely unprepared.

Throat dry, Louis calls for Katherine. His heart begins to race and sweat gathers at the surface of his skin. It appears now that all signs are hitting him in full effect including the flames that have begun to burn at his core. 

When the beta arrives, he instructs her to prepare his room – his actual room, not the one he has been inhabiting with Harry – with the supplies necessary for the following five days. 

He then goes to lean over the railing of the staircase, relieved to spot the steward speaking with the butler. “Roland,” he calls out, and Roland startles. 

“Yes, my lady?” he asks, turning around once before realizing Louis is above him. 

“Inform the household that I will be indisposed for the following days,” he says, maintaining a level tone. 

Roland understands immediately, jerking his head into a stiff nod before hurrying off to carry out further necessary precautions including posting a note to dismiss any visitors for the rest of the week as well as locking the door and barricading the staircase so everyone stays a safe distance from Louis until his heat has faded. 

He closes his eyes, going over everything to see if he’s missed anything important. Already his mind feels foggy and remiss. His scent is so thick that even he feels suffocated by it, lavender and vanilla soaking the air with desperation. 

Louis is disrupted from his thoughts by the telltale sound of a door swinging open and a loud call ringing through the air. “Louis.” It is only the second time he’s heard it spoken by this voice since Harry returned. 

The alpha has returned from his ride. 

Already, Louis can feel how dangerously close to falling he is, a high whine pulling at his lips all from a single uttered word. The blaze in his stomach has encompassed him entirely, and he can feel himself begin to sink. His omega is begging for his alpha, and Louis has to fight not to give in. Forcing himself to take a few deep breaths, he sets one foot in front of the other, walking stiffly until he reaches his own door. 

Katherine is just finishing up folding some clean sheets on the settee alongside the water and food she has left as sustenance when he closes the door behind her. She startles at the sound.

“Could you please inform Roland to tell Harry that I’ve gone into heat?” he asks carefully, speaking through his teeth. 

“Of course, my lady,” she says, moving to slip past him out into the hall.

“Be sure to lock the door,” Louis adds, omega protesting violently against these words by clawing at his throat. He hurries to his desk and pulls out an ornate key, handing it to the omega. “Give this to Ms. Edith, please. She will keep it safe.”

That key must not fall into the hands of any alpha, especially Harry. If he were here right now, Louis is not sure he would be able to resist. It is expected of all omegas to preserve their innocence until marriage, and while the same does not apply to alphas – why, Louis will never know – if word got out, they’d both be shamed. 

Louis cannot deny that he aches for it anyway. He presses his forehead to the wood, hearing the click as Katherine locks the door and walks away. Dizziness overtakes him and he stumbles away from the door, a whine slipping from his lips. Everything is suddenly too warm – too much. He tugs at the fabric of his dress, hot tears pooling in his eyes. 

He struggles for a minute to pull the garment over his head but once he succeeds, he flings it across the room, wiping his forehead. He undoes the laces of his corset next, dropping it unceremoniously onto the floor. 

“Omega.” 

The voice comes from outside, deep and hoarse with longing. Louis goes weak in the knees, whining again. 

“Alpha,” he returns, nearly tripping over his feet as he rushes to the door. He can smell Harry through the door, oakmoss and clary sage sliding under the door wrapping around him. And even though he heard Katherine lock the door just minutes before, wraps his hand around the knob and tugs helplessly. “Alpha,” he repeats, vision adopting a hazy quality. He feels the first drops of slick drip down his thighs underneath his chemise. 

“Your Royal Highness,” a familiar voice interrupts – Roland. His voice sounds nasally, as if he is plugging his nose. “Please step away from the door.” 

Harry lets out a threatening growl, and Louis whimpers, pulling uselessly at the knob. He wants Harry. He needs him. “Alpha, please,” he says. 

He jumps at the sound of something colliding with the wood. 

“Good heavens!” Roland squeaks, horrified. “Boys, I require some assistance!” 

The alpha lets out a frustrated grunt, striking the wood with his side again and again. Louis flinches with each sound, stepping back from the door and willing it to open. He’s soaked now, slick staining the lower half of his chemise.

A commotion occurs outside, and Louis presses his ear to the door in an effort to hear. Harry’s growls are unmistakable as well as Roland muttering a litany of ‘Oh dears,’ under his breath. He can hear others too, the footmen presumably, clearly attempting to restrain the alpha. 

“Stop it,” Louis cries through the door, wanting them to leave Harry and him alone. 

But no one listens to him. The struggle continues for another minute before Harry lets out a final defeated howl. Louis lets out a distressed cry, mumbling “Alpha, alpha, alpha,” under his breath even as the sounds outside fade away entirely. 

Omega wailing in his chest, Louis turns and staggers to the bed. He tears at his chemise, the feeling of fabric against his burning skin almost unbearable. When he’s entirely bare, he reaches a hand down and brushes it over the tip of his leaking prick, letting out a small mewl. It hurts. 

He wraps his hand around the small length in a loose hold, trembling from the sensitivity. All it takes is a few tugs from his shaking fingers before he’s crying out, thighs quivering. He crawls onto the bed, eyes cloudy with tears. The release has eased some of the burning, but it’s not what he truly wants. 

This time, he reaches behind himself, shuddering when his fingers brush against his rim, slick coating his skin. He slides two fingers in at once, wrist straining at the angle. He whines at the feeling of fullness that finally settles the fire in his core. Even so, he aches for Harry – for his warmth, his touch, his scent, and his voice in his ear. He aches for Harry’s fingers, so much thicker and longer than his own. For his knot, swelling and filling him up completely. 

It is Harry’s face that is branded on the backs of his eyelids as he succumbs to his omega and drifts into heat. 

On the other side of the house, an alpha paces restlessly from one side of the room to the other, a wreckage of a broken chair and jagged scraps of the wallpaper he tore from the wall littering the floor around him. 

⚜️

Louis resurfaces from his heat days later, covered in an uncomfortable amount of dried liquids as well as shivering from the cold. Omegas run hot during their heats and it is always an abrupt change to return to his regular temperatures once his cycle completes. 

He rises on unsteady feet, wincing at the sharp soreness between his legs as he moves toward the settee where Katherine left some blankets for him. He drapes one around his body before waddling towards the adjoining room, desperate for a soak in the tub. 

An hour later, freshly bathed and changed, he rings for Katherine to free him from the room. “Thank you,” he tells the beta when she opens the door for him. She hands him the key and he sets it away for safekeeping. 

His resolve lasts a total of a minute before he’s asking, “Where’s Harry?” 

The need to see the alpha when he’s been longing for him all these days can no longer be ignored. 

“I can take you to him, my lady,” Katherine says, beckoning him out. 

Heart racing, Louis follows. The beta leads up down the corridor and then past the staircase to the east wing of the house where many guest rooms lay untouched, once reserved for the Luna’s personal guests. 

Katherine takes out another key and undoes the lock to a room, stepping back so Louis can enter. 

“Harry?” he calls out, gasping when the disarray laid out in the room sharpens: sheets flung off the bed, furniture knocked askew or overturned, wallpaper torn from the wall. His heart pangs. “Alpha? It’s me.”

“Omega,” utters the very voice he’s desperate to hear, low and relieved. Harry rises from behind the bed where he has presumably been laying. He dashes for Louis, lifting him up and into his arms.

Louis lets out a breathless laugh as he’s spun around. “It’s only been a few days,” he protests.

“That is far too many,” Harry insists, setting him down only for the purpose of sticking his nose to the hollow of Louis’ neck, scenting him eagerly. 

Eyes fluttering shut with a soft sigh, Louis barely processes the click of the door shutting behind him, the beta clearly determining that they would like some privacy. “You made such a mess,” he tuts, leaning into Harry’s chest. It makes him remember Niall’s theory that Louis in particular seemed to bring out Harry’s most wolfish instincts – even as Harry’s human side grows stronger with each passing day, his wolf was brought out in seconds when he believed Louis needed him. 

“I apologize,” Harry mumbles into his shoulder, but he doesn’t sound very sorry. 

“Have you been here all week?” he asks after a minute, pulling back to meet Harry’s eyes. He frowns, guilt rising inside him. “I know you do not enjoy being trapped within one room.” 

However, Harry shakes his head. “I was able to go outside if I asked. Liam and I went to Court yesterday to see the Council.”

“Oh, did you? How did that go?” Louis asks curiously, but the alpha just lets out an impatient sound, tugging him back into his body. “No talking now, I see,” he says, amused. 

He lets Harry hover over him for the rest of the day. When he drapes his jacket over Louis’ shoulders after he shivers the slightest bit on their afternoon walk. When he insists on feeding Louis each bite of his fish that night. These acts of care satisfy Harry’s alpha who has spent the last five days in distress, and truthfully they satisfy Louis too, who has spent the last five days missing Harry deeply. 

The next morning, Louis looks forward to nothing but resting all day. Harry plans on returning to Court with Liam to continue the journey of settling back into his royal duties, but he promises to return before dinner so they shall have plenty of time together afterwards. 

Until then, Louis is curious to see if Lucinda will go book shopping with him in town. It has been quite a while since he has purchased a new book.

“My lady,” Roland greets him when he exits the dining room. The beta grips a gilded envelope in his hand, embellishments glinting in the light. The signet stamp is blood red, the symbol of a wolf printed on it. 

Royal. 

Louis eyes the letter with barely concealed curiosity. “What is it, Roland?” he asks. 

“I have a letter,” Roland says. “An invitation, actually.”

“Oh? May I see it please?” Louis asks, watching as Roland opens the seal and slides the letter out. He takes the paper with careful hands, inhaling the smell of ink and parchment. 

His Royal Highness, Prince Harry of England & Lady Tomlinson 

Is requested to attend the Spring Ball at Oatlands Palace, on Saturday, 10th of April, at 9 o’clock p.m. in celebration of second chances. 

Weybridge, March, 1819

Courtesy of, 

Her Royal Highness, Princess Helene 

The paper slips from his fingers, gracefully sliding down to the rug where it lays face-up. Louis stares forward, limbs frozen in place. Princess Helene was Frederick’s sister… and Prince Augustus’ daughter. Her name may be on the invitation, but Louis was quite certain whose invisible hand pushed the pen. 

“My lady?” Roland says carefully. 

“Pardon me,” Louis says unevenly. He inhales shallowly, lips pulling into an apologetic smile. “I just realized I must purchase some new fabric immediately.”

Roland laughs even though it is far from funny. “Shall I respond for you?” 

“Please,” Louis murmurs. Attending is inevitable, after all. To refuse would be considered a snub and cause a scandal within the Court. He lifts a hand to fuss with his fringe. “It has been ages since I’ve attended a ball.”

Mistaking the shake in his voice for nerves, Roland is quick to reassure him. “You will be the belle of the ball, my lady. I am sure of it. It will go swimmingly.”

“I hope so,” Louis says lightly. He forces a smile, and the steward returns it, not appearing to notice anything amiss. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to make some preparations.”

“Of course, my lady,” Roland says, lowering himself into a small bow. 

When the steward is safely out of sight, Louis starts towards the servant’s quarters. 

⚜️

“What do I do?” Louis wails, burying his face in his hands. 

“I think you overestimate my ability to answer these kinds of inquiries,” is Niall’s most unhelpful response. The beta is sitting in a chair all the way across the room from Louis, but even that distance would not aid them if someone were to walk into Niall’s room right now. Louis is so distressed that he did not spare a second thought to risk it. “He won’t attempt anything at a ball of all places, would he? He would certainly be caught.”

“On the contrary, there will be so many guests gathered that it will be easier to hide a nefarious plot,” Louis says. He knows he sounds ridiculous – he feels ridiculous – but he cannot ignore his own instincts. His instincts led him to believe that Harry was alive all along, and though he had given up eventually, he had ultimately been right. Now they are acting as a warning, and he cannot turn a blind eye to it any longer. “I have to tell someone.”

“Who?” Niall asks, gentle. “Louis, forgive me for my bluntness, but who will believe you?”

Louis ducks his head, insides contracting. “Liam will,” he says weakly, but he knows the beta is right.

“Liam will… but there is nothing he can do,” Niall says. “Not without genuine proof.” He sighs. “All you can do is be careful. You will have your guard escort with you at all times already, but you can also stay by Harry’s side at all times. Do not leave him alone with his uncle or let them go out by themselves for a smoke or something of the sort. I am certain Prince Augustus must already employ a food tester but perhaps we could hire one of our own if you are concerned.”

“I will not hire a food tester,” Louis says, shaking his head. Though it is a highly-paid and highly-sought-after position, he does not like the idea of having someone else putting their own life on the line for his own peace of mind, even if it ensures that Harry will stay safe. 

“Perhaps Harry can say that he is feeling ill?” Niall says. “What?” he adds when Louis sends him a look. “Then you two could retire early.”

Louis opens his mouth, and then shuts it. “That is actually a conceivable idea,” he says, stunned. 

“I am not just my dashing looks,” Niall says smugly, straightening his collar. “You will have to convince Harry though.”

“Right,” Louis exhales, and then shakes his head. “Perhaps I shall be the one to feel ill. Harry would leave in a heartbeat if he believed I was suffering.” He smiles softly at that. 

“Disgusting,” Niall says, but he is teasing. “So his Royal Highness really has no idea of these worries?”

“No, of course not,” Louis says, surprised. He tilts his head when Niall frowns. “I can’t tell him. He may not believe me.” 

“Are we speaking of the same person?” Niall asks, confused. “You could tell him that the sky is green and I am certain that he would believe you, Louis. Do you truly believe that?”

“Look, I do not want to worry him unnecessarily,” Louis says, turning his head to gaze at the wall stubbornly. 

Niall is quiet for a moment, before realization seems to pass over his face. “You do not want him to feel in danger,” he says without hesitation. “You do not want him to regress into his wolf again. Or worse, disappear.”

Louis stays quiet. 

“That is not going to happen,” Niall says quietly. 

“If you told me a year and some ago that Harry would disappear just weeks before our wedding, I would have said the same,” Louis says flatly, closing his eyes. “I do not care if you believe me to be foolish, I – I don’t want to lose him ever again.” He thinks of Niall’s earlier words. Not without genuine proof. There is only one way to ensure that Harry is never taken from him again. 

He clears his throat, deciding that he has bothered Niall enough. As much as Niall would help him in even the most preposterous of ideas – running away included – he would not approve of what Louis is thinking. “I should go. Elizabeth is probably wondering where I am now.”

“And I have to return to my very important business,” Niall agrees, grinning. “Napping.” 

Eyes rolling heavenwards, Louis bids the beta goodbye before carefully making his way back to the main house. He flattens himself against the wall when Jacob unexpectedly exits his own room across the hall, praying the beta does not turn around. When he’s gone from sight, Louis breathes out a sigh of relief before hurriedly sneaking away. 

Proof, he thinks as he walks through the corridors. He changes routes immediately, moving in the direction of the library. 

⚜️

“I’m terribly sorry,” Harry says when he steps on Louis’ toe, eyes wide with horror. 

“It’s fine,” Louis says through gritted teeth, lathering his voice with reassurance even as his foot smarts from the hard toe of Harry’s boot. He clears his throat. “Let us try it a bit slower, shall we?”

Harry nods, grimacing as they return to their previous positions. It is only a transition they are practicing, yet his movements are stiff and jerky, strained where they were once instinctual. Despite all of the things Harry has been remembering recently, dancing has turned out to be a mystery. Harry has always been a confident and natural dancer, but that ease is nowhere to be seen now. 

“Relax, Alpha. You know this,” Louis murmurs when the alpha grunts frustratedly. “Just watch me.” They have spent the last few hours practicing the most necessary ball dances including the quadrille, the cotillion, and various other country dances  with the help of some of the household staff before finally attempting the waltz. It took quite a while for Harry to master the march portion of the dance and they have finally progressed to the pirouette, or slow waltz. 

Louis shivers at the weight of Harry’s hand on his hip, sides pressed together, and then lifts his own arm to arch over their heads. Slowly they begin to rotate as before. In this position, Louis is staring directly into Harry’s green eyes, head tilted up to match his gaze. The waltz is most certainly the most intimate of ballroom dances, which had rendered it scandalous for the better part of the decade before members of the beau monde slowly began to adopt it. However, there was no doubt that when partnered with a lover, the dance could even be deemed sensual. 

It feels as such now as Harry’s fingers burn imprints into Louis’ waist and his gaze sears into his face. He is enveloped with the alpha’s scent and ensnared by his touch, so much so that the rest of the ballroom has faded away in his mind. 

Harry seems similarly entranced, eyes darkening as they turn around and around in a circle. He seems to have untensed, no longer hesitating on each step now that he has stopped focusing on each movement and instead centered his attention on Louis. A single curl has fallen from his coiff, curving onto his forehead. His mouth is red from where he’s dug his teeth into his bottom lip. 

He realizes he has been staring when Harry’s lips begin to quirk upwards into a small smirk. “I was under the impression that we were supposed to look into each other’s eyes, my lady,” he murmurs. 

“I am not sure what you are implying, sir,” Louis says innocently, willing his flush to subside. He feels a rush of relief when the music changes abruptly to a jauntier pace and they progress into the Sauteuse. This portion of the dance is far more energetic than the previous, and Louis finds himself grinning as Harry flounders before finding his footing. 

It is far more difficult to hold one’s eyes during this phase of the dance but Louis still succeeds in catching Harry’s gaze more than once as they spin around and around the room as part of a larger circle with the other participating couples. Each time, he sees nothing but pleasure and contentment in the alpha’s eyes and it makes his heart swell with happiness. 

His feet are aching by the time they deem Harry proficient in waltzing again, but his body feels light. Harry is laughing and speaking enthusiastically as he interacts with some of the footmen, face glistening with exertion. Louis moves to the side of the room and drinks from the glass of water that was fetched for him, hiding his smile against the rim as he observes. 

In this moment, he feels it wholeheartedly. Harry is back. He still cannot recall the circumstances of his disappearance, but everything else significant has returned. He is speaking and laughing and smiling as much as the Harry Louis remembers. He is the Harry Louis remembers, both inside and out. 

As if sensing his joy from across the room, Harry begins to look around, seeking his face. Their eyes meet and the alpha’s eyes are filled with such adoration that Louis seems to weaken in the knees. He stays still as the alpha walks towards him, cutting a handsome figure in his brocade waistcoat. Butterflies flutter madly in his stomach, and he feels as if he is back at the very first ball he and Harry attended together, signaling to the rest of society their intentions with one another. 

Harry’s hands reach out for him first and Louis sways towards him, lifting his arms. They meet in an embrace and Harry presses his lips to Louis’ forehead in a lingering kiss before resting his own forehead against his. “I love you,” he says quietly. “My omega, my love. You are everything to me.”

“I love you,” Louis says, blinking back tears. “My alpha, my love. I’ve missed you so much.” 

Out of the corner of Louis’ eye, he can see as their witnesses including the piano player who had been supplying the music begin to slowly back away, heading for the door to give them some privacy. He makes a note to thank them each individually for assisting in this endeavor before turning his attention back to Harry. 

Harry holds his hand out to Louis in an invitation, and Louis lets himself be swept into another dance. It’s not a waltz nor any other formal step that they’ve practiced today – in fact, it is more swaying than stepping. Louis decides that he is incandescently happy today. There is nowhere else in the world he would rather be than right here. 

⚜️

In the end, the day of their deadline arrives rather insignificantly. 

Since Elizabeth cannot join them, Louis accompanies Harry to St. James’ Palace alone where he watches from the alcove alongside Lucinda and other omegas of nobility as he addresses the Court. He can see the entire hall from his position and cannot help but take specific notice of the absence of certain individuals. 

“I thank you all for your everlasting patience and faith through my recovery. Your efforts have allowed me to regain my health and strength, and I am now ready to fulfill my duty to the crown and kingdom immediately,” he states from the head of the table. “My father has left a gilded legacy and I am devoted to not only maintaining it, but continuing it. It is my greatest honor to take my place on the throne and rule this blessed kingdom with the same vigor and dedication as those have before me.” 

After Harry has met with representatives from the House of Lords and the Parliament, they dine together for luncheon and then finally return to Carlton House. Harry excuses himself almost immediately upon arriving which takes Louis off guard, having wanted to discuss the events of the morning with the alpha. 

“I will be back,” Harry promises when he sees Louis’ expression. “I have to take care of something.” 

Louis nods, smiling when Harry kisses his forehead before departing to carry out his apparently confidential tasks. He decides to join Elizabeth in the drawing room where he provides a detailed retelling of what occurred and passes on the many messages given to him on the topic of the Dowager Luna’s health and wellbeing. Perhaps they trade some gossip about fellow nobles and members of the gentry, but Louis would never admit it. 

He is startled when Roland pops his head into the room and clears his throat. 

“His Royal Highness has requested your presence in the Gardens,” he announces to Louis, wearing a secretive smile. He retracts his hand from behind his back, revealing a gorgeous bouquet of crimson Sweet Williams. 

“Oh,” Louis breathes, taking the flowers and inhaling their clove scent. 

“Love, admiration, passion, and gratitude,” Elizabeth quotes, referring to the Language of Flowers. “How sweet.” She gestures for Louis to go on when their eyes meet. “Go. Enjoy.”  

Louis follows Roland out into the Gardens, grinning when he sees Harry standing at their bench. Roland stops walking at a safe distance while Louis continues to approach the alpha, beaming at him. 

“My lady,” Harry greets, lowering his head to kiss the back of Louis’ hand. 

“My prince,” Louis echoes. “Thank you for the flowers. They are beautiful.”

“They do not hold a candle to you, darling,” Harry murmurs, lifting his arm in an invitation. 

“You flatter me,” Louis says, placing a hand in the crook of his elbow. Harry begins to walk, and Louis’ curiosity grows once he realizes the alpha clearly has a destination in mind. “Where are we going, kind sir?” 

“That is a surprise,” is Harry’s sly response. 

Even more curious, Louis lets Harry guide him through the Gardens past rows of blooming flowers and carefully tended plots. They leave the main gardens and begin to walk across the green. It is cold outside but not unbearably so, bright rays from the afternoon peeking out from the grey. 

He furrows his brows when something comes into view – a white blanket? As they get closer, more details become apparent including a large woven basket alongside painted china plates and gleaming silver utensils, places laid out for two guests. Delicate pink peonies are sprinkled across the blanket. 

“You did this for me?” Louis asks, awed by the quaint arrangement. He has heard briefly what a picnic is, an activity that is slowly growing popular amongst the aristocracy although most Louis has heard have taken place indoors. 

“For us,” Harry amends, smiling as he gestures for Louis to sit down. 

Louis obliges, smoothing his skirt out and adjusting the brim of his bonnet so that he can feel the breeze ruffle through his hair as well as the sun warm his face. 

“I had some help from Ms. Edith,” Harry begins as he reaches for the basket. He opens the flaps and Louis gasps when something springs from it. 

Matilda. The kitten shakes out her fur before traipsing across the blanket to explore the new terrain. She places one paw onto the grass before retracting it, clearly not approving of its dampness. When she notices Louis, she lets out a meow of greeting. 

“She snuck in when I was packing food and I just couldn’t take her out,” Harry explains. “I thought she might as well join us.” He reaches into the basket and begins pulling out food: warm bread, sweet-smelling berries and preserves, golden pastries, and little frosted cakes. 

 “This is lovely,” Louis says, meeting Harry’s eyes. “Thank you, Alpha.” 

“Today is a special day,” Harry says simply. “Not just because I will be king, but because of you. You brought me back, Louis. You never gave up on me… not now, and not over the last year.” He smiles. “Mum told me that. That the two of you kept on believing I was out there somewhere even when everyone else accepted my death.”

Louis looks down, guilt wilting his throat. “I did give up,” he admits. “After your father died. I didn’t think there was any hope left. In fact, I was going to run away.” He stops abruptly, realizing his mistake. Though he did eventually explain to Harry that a compromise had been reached in Court regarding whether he was fit for the throne which involved a time limit, he never mentioned the fact that he would be married to another had they failed their endeavor. It hadn’t seemed necessary when they were so certain of success, and now he still does not know. 

“Run away?” Harry asks, appalled. “Truly?”

“I… It was nothing,” Louis says, shaking his head. “A brief fantasy.” He startles when Harry grabs his hands. 

“You cannot blame yourself for believing I was dead,” he says gently. “I was gone for so long.”

Louis swallows, momentarily feeling a vice around his heart. It was as if the phantom of his pain and longing had resurfaced just to remind him that though the nightmare had ended, the memories would never fully vanish. “Yes,” is all he can bring himself to say. 

Harry’s eyes wander to his hand. “You continued to wear my ring anyway,” he says softly. 

“No one could have stopped me,” Louis admits. “You were still my fiance, even if you were gone for good.” 

“Were,” Harry says, brow raising. He meets Louis’ eyes. “And now?”

“What do you think?” Louis mumbles, ducking his head to hide his blush. Secretly, he aches for Harry to confirm it. 

He stills when the alpha’s fingers brush his temple, lifting his gaze once again to meet his eyes. Harry wears an expression of concentration as he tucks a peony behind Louis’ ear, tenderly sweeping his fringe out of his eyes afterward. His hand molds to the side of Louis’ face, thumb pressing into his cheek. 

“I do not know what I think, but I do know quite a bit,” Harry says finally. “I know that I want to see your smile every day for the rest of my life. I know that when I become king, there is no one else I would rather have by my side as my Luna. I know that I love you so strongly that I cannot express it in words. I know I want you to bear my children one day – that you will be a wonderful mother to them. And a wonderful spouse to me.” 

Rendered speechless, Louis just stares. 

“However, it is up to you, my love,” Harry murmurs, thumb caressing his face. “Will you still marry me?” 

“Yes,” Louis says before Harry can even take another breath. “Forever and eternally, yes.” 

Harry leans forward, and kisses him. It is quick but tender all the same, hands cradling both sides of Louis’ face as he presses affection between his lips. 

Louis is shocked, and then pleased, pink blooming in his cheeks. “Full of surprises today,” he murmurs. 

“I have many sides,” Harry says, pressing a finger to Louis’ lips and making him shiver. A dark ring has enveloped his eyes, gaze locked onto Louis’ mouth as he leans closer. As if magnetically linked, Louis follows. 

Matilda interrupts them with a sharp meow of rebuke, and they both spring back. She seems to be giving them a look of judgement that could rival even the most intimidating of ladies. 

Deciding they ought to listen to their unofficial chaperone, they begin to eat. 

It is most pleasant, Louis comes to find, to eat outside as the breeze ruffles through your hair and there is nothing but vast open space all around, pleasant and peaceful. Matilda curls up at the edge of the blanket and dozes off under the sun – an idea Louis finds he must try in the future. 

At one point, Louis looks up to see Harry with his head tilted back, eyes closed and an expression of pure peace laid across his features. If it were not for the slight rise and fall of his chest with each breath, he would be as still as a statue. Louis smiles when the alpha opens one eye and squints at him. 

“What are you thinking?” he asks. 

“I am simply savoring the weather,” Harry answers. “The cool breeze… it feels sacred in a way. I have grown a greater appreciation for nature from my time in the woods. I miss it sometimes, even now.” 

“Will you tell me about it?” Louis asks carefully. The alpha has remained rather quiet about his memories from the forest where he lived and roamed as a wolf rather than a man, but Louis is aware that he remembers all of it. He imagines that such an experience would not be easily forgotten. 

Harry hesitates for a moment before nodding. “I do not remember the beginning as well,” he reveals. “I remember flashes… running through the trees as the sky grew darker and darker… my heart pounding in my throat. I felt threatened and exposed.”

Louis hugs his knees to his chest in an effort to ground himself, making sure to hold Harry’s eye contact so that the alpha is aware that he is listening attentively. He knows this is important – Harry is trusting him with his vulnerability. 

He listens staunchly as the alpha describes how he survived all those months. Building a shelter with his own bare hands, sharpening branches and rocks to use as tools, fishing in streams and setting traps to hunt small game – doing everything he can to survive on his own. 

“Do you miss it?” Louis asks when the alpha finishes. Somehow they are both lying down now, plates pushed out of the way in favor of proximity. Harry’s face is just inches from his own, their hands clasped between them. 

“Parts of it,” Harry admits, thumb rubbing over the back of his head. “I miss the trees and the stars. I miss being away from the stress and pressure of the kingdom on my back. But there are things I missed more: interaction with other humans, a good meal and a roof over my head. But most importantly, my family, my friends… and my darling omega.” 

Louis smiles, heart fluttering. 

“I am happy to be back,” Harry says honestly. “This is my home.”

“Your mother told me the story of how Carlton House was built,” Louis says softly. “I never knew it before.”

Harry nods, a wistful expression on his face. “I grew up here. My entire childhood took place on these grounds. I have so many fond memories here.” 

“As do I,” Louis says. “Living here when you were gone… it was difficult, but it also brought me immense comfort to stay here among your things and your essence. I know I am technically still a guest here, but –”

“No,” Harry interrupts, smiling. “You are wrong. This is your home as much as it is mine.”

“Our home,” Louis repeats, smiling softly. “I must say I like the way it sounds.” He giggles when the alpha lets out a small growl. “Ah, the wolf remains.” 

“Of course,” Harry says. “He is part of me.”

“I know,” Louis says easily. “I love him too.” The alpha kisses his hand again. 

“One day, we will raise our children here,” Harry whispers after a comfortable pause, brushing a strand of hair out of Louis’ eyes. “They’ll play in the garden, picking strawberries with Mum when she comes to visit us and chasing butterflies the same way I used to when I was a child. We’ll have picnics like this all the time. I’ll write to you all when I travel for business.”

“We’ll read your letters together by the fire and pretend you’re with us,” Louis says dizzily. His heart swells with the picture Harry is painting – oh how he longs for it. “And when you return, we’ll all rush to greet you before you can even step out of the carriage.”

“You’ll sing to them,” Harry says fondly, cradling the side of Louis’ face. “And teach them nursery rhymes.”

“I’ll read to them too,” Louis adds, feeling light. “You will show them those silly magic tricks you learned from your cousin to impress me and they’ll look at you like you hung the moon and stars. They’ll adore you.” 

“They’ll adore us, because we will be by their sides when they need us like my parents were for me. We will help them up when they fall and hold them when they cry. We will build forts in the State Room if they ask and have all the tea parties in the world. In the summer, we’ll go to the seaside and help them look for shells on the beach. We will let them learn and play as much as they can away from the scrutiny of others. We will protect them as much as we can,” Harry murmurs. “They shall be the happiest children.”

 “With the happiest parents,” Louis whispers, giddy at the thought of it all. 

Harry’s smile is radiant. “I look forward to it,” he murmurs. 

⚜️

Oatlands Palace has stood in Weybridge for nearly three centuries, surviving the rise and fall of two houses and housing royals for generations. It had been rebuilt the same year of Louis’ birth after an unfortunate fire, its splendor and tarnished majesty being restored by the kingdom’s greatest architects. It has been home to the Duke of York of the past two generations.

Louis finds himself unable to admire the beauty of the estate as he and Harry are escorted through the opulent halls to the ballroom. Already guests were arriving and the air was full of voices and practiced laughs. The Band, led by Mr. Oliver, plays merrily in the corner as people drift by in gorgeous gowns and dashing tailcoats. 

Beneath their feet, the ballroom floor is decorated with a glorious chalk design of the sun. The scrupulously etched patterns would be in disarray by the night’s end but for now their beauty is admired by every visitor. The hall is illuminated by a dozen glinting chandeliers and gilded girandoles. 

They are greeted by the Master of Ceremonies who lowers himself into a deep bow, seemingly awed to be in Harry’s presence. He presents Louis with a ticket in which the number 1 is inscribed. These tickets, although more common in a more conventional private ball rather than a royal one, dictate the order of couples leading each dance. In normal custom, Princess Helene would lead the first dance with her husband, Prince Andrew, but due to Harry’s superior rank, they automatically precede any other couple. 

Louis knows that they will have to engage in a conversation with the princess in which Harry would graciously pass on the honor of first dance to his cousin in which she would insist on his taking it, and so on and so forth until Princess Helene would finally accept Harry’s offer and open the ball. So was the way of these unspoken Royal rules – Louis has witnessed it countless times before. 

As he predicted, those exact events unfold just minutes later as Princess Helene and Prince Andrew approach them. The princess, not more than one and twenty years of age, bears a striking resemblance to her brother – and like Frederick, a lack thereof to her father. 

Louis has yet to see the elder prince though his eyes have roamed over the ballroom frequently since they arrived. He cannot decide if this is a reassurance or an omen. He is, however, most pleased when Prince Frederick approaches their party though the alpha is not looking at him. 

“Harry?” he says, hesitance in his voice. 

The alpha in question drags his attention from Princess Helene, eyes widening upon seeing Frederick. “Fred,” Harry exhales, lips curling into a smile. 

Prince Frederick almost appears relieved as Harry pulls him into a jovial embrace, patting his back. “It is most splendid to see you, dear cousin,” he says, the tremble in his voice betraying his emotion. 

Touched, Louis and Helene share endeared expressions as the two alphas begin to chat animatedly. They engage in a brief but pleasant conversation themselves, discussing Harry’s health and Princess Helene’s newborn daughter Beatrice – or, Bea, as she’s affectionately called. Louis agrees to come visit and see her in the near future although the idea of returning to Oatlands Palace after tonight makes him hesitant. 

See, despite the chaos and pomp of the ball even before it has officially begun, Louis is preoccupied with other thoughts. His plan, being one. Though he brushes it away when the band stops playing abruptly. It is time for the ball to commence. 

Princess Helene and Prince Andrew move to the center of the floor to open with the Minuet and Louis and Harry take their position beside them, as second from the top. The Minuet was notoriously difficult to master, and although Louis did not receive years of training like many omegas of royal birth had, he has danced enough of them in Harry’s company to perform the moves quite naturally. 

Afterward, he and Harry lead the Duke of Kent’s waltz. Louis keeps his eyes on Harry even when dancing briefly with another partner, as necessary when partaking in an English Country dance. He is enjoying himself greatly, but cannot ease the tension from his shoulders at the absence of one particular person. 

At the conclusion of the second dance, Harry takes his left hand with his right and leads him in a promenade around the room. They stop to chat with the Duc de Berry, Lord and Lady Byron, and more. It is on their second round of the hall when the Master of Ceremonies requests their attention for another introduction. 

Before he says the name, Louis knows. He stills as a familiar figure comes into view at the top of the stairs. “His Royal Highness, Prince Augustus Styles, the Duke of York.” 

Prince Augustus descends into the hall with measured steps, a practiced smile on his face. He is alone tonight, proclaiming his current bachelor status for all to see. There is no doubt he will lead the third dance now as the next-highest-ranked, but with whom is a mystery. Though they pretend otherwise, it seems like the entire hall is observing as he strolls through the room, greeting his daughter and son-and-law cordially, followed by Prince Frederick, before stopping before Harry and Louis. 

“Harry,” he greets, gripping the alpha by the shoulders. “Heavens, look at you.”

“Uncle,” Harry returns, and because he is completely oblivious to Louis’ theories, he embraces him. It is a brief but affectionate gesture, one that will be recorded in every newspaper the next day as the mark of a superior ball is that a few stray guests will recount its events vividly for every gossip column in the city. 

Louis somehow accomplishes a smile and curtsy when Harry directs the conversation to him. He just barely prevents himself from flinching when the alpha takes his hand and places a fleeting kiss to the back of it. His insides contract with disgust at the action, although entirely common in terms of etiquette. He would prefer it if the only alpha’s lips to touch his skin forever were Harry’s. 

He is relieved when the prince moves on to greet some other acquaintances. In the end, he asks Lady Lydia Hancock to lead the cotillion with him. It is not so surprising since she is currently reigning as most eligible omega of the season – it is a polite gesture that the bachelor prince has chosen her as his partner, allowing her to exhibit her elegance and beauty to any potential suitors with greater ease. 

Since he and Harry had danced two sets together already, it was only standard that Louis accept Prince Frederick’s offer for the next dance. The alpha is quite a proficient dancer, although not as graceful as Harry. Still, Louis finds his company a welcome distraction from the storm brewing in his heart. 

The dance begins in two rows as always, and too late Louis realizes that as he and Frederick are third in line, they end up directly across from Prince Augustus and Lady Westbrook. As the music begins and Louis moves, he catches Harry’s eye. He has chosen to dance with Lady Michael, the son of the Duke of Richmond who is another belle from the season that will benefit greatly from this encounter, but his eyes wander to Louis every so often as if needing to constantly confirm his presence. 

All too soon, Louis is forced to step lightly forward and take the offered hands of Prince Augustus. It is impossible with the crowd of people around him to catch a whiff of the alpha’s scent yet mulberries and sandalwood seem to suffocate him anyway. 

He nearly trips over his step as he rejoins Frederick on the edge of the invisible square, heart racing. Unfortunately for him, this encounter is the first of many in the rather extended dance, and each time, Louis finds himself holding his breath. 

It is a relief when the set concludes. Louis curtsies to Prince Frederick and thanks him. “You are a most respectable dancer,” he praises. 

Frederick scoffs. “I am aware of my own shortcomings, believe me, my lady,” he teases. “But I thank you for your kindness.” 

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Prince Augustus approach Harry again, clapping a hand to his shoulder. It is a familiar gesture, but it makes Louis’ insides twist with apprehension. 

“Father has been so eager for your arrival,” Prince Frederick says, breaking Louis from his thoughts. He turns to the alpha who seems oblivious to the desperation on his face. “He was the one who convinced Helene to hold this ball, did you know? She was feeling a bit nervous since she hasn’t hosted a ball for quite some time now but she told me he was a great help to her while I was away.” 

“Oh, how lovely,” Louis murmurs impassively. 

“Indeed,” Prince Frederick says, smiling. 

In the following dance, Louis partners with Harry again, relieved when Prince Augustus decides to sit that one out. However, he is distracted and it is easily recognizable. His steps are just the slightest bit off and he does not possess the same easy grace as he normally does when dancing. 

Harry notices immediately, a look of concern on his face as he spins Louis around and dips him. “I feel as though there is something you are not telling me,” he murmurs when they clasp hands and turn in a circle. 

“I am just feeling a bit dizzy,” he lies. He might as well plant the information now so that it will be easier to escape later. On the next step, he moves so that his back is pressed to Harry’s chest, the alpha’s breath tickling his nape. 

He closes his eyes briefly, inhaling as much as he can of Harry’s scent before he must step forward and away, continuing with the dance. He maintains his eye contact with the alpha as they separate back into the two lines, words inching their way up his throat. Perhaps he could tell him. Tell him and then convince him to leave at this very second – to never see Prince Augustus and his haunting eyes ever again. 

Instead he says, “I think I shall visit the ladies’ room after this dance.” 

Harry nods, and Louis feels guilt tear at his stomach due to his deception. 

After the dance concludes, he departs from Harry and begins to move determinedly toward the doorway into the adjoining antechamber. Inwardly, the map he spent the past couple of weeks studying sharpens in his mind, acting as his guide as he moves in the direction of the toilet but at the last moment, slips right into a narrower corridor. 

All he needs is proof.

⚜️

Having originally been built in the sixteenth century, Oatlands Palace consists of many oddities and interesting facets. The most intriguing of examples: secret passageways. 

There are not altogether uncommon aspects of these royal houses. Even Carlton House possessed a secret passageway located in the throne room that led out onto the grounds and which could act as an escape route in times of great danger. However, Oatlands Palace does not just have a single passageway, it has an entire maze of tunnels under the main foundation of the house. Many were filled in the process of rebuilding two decades ago, but the main ones were left untouched. 

Louis knows this, because Harry told it to him himself. 

Frederick and I would go play in the tunnels sometimes. One time we tried to scare my uncle by surprising him in his study, and he was furious. It had been one of the stories Harry told him when they were still courting, and for the longest time, it had left Louis’ mind – that is, until he began his research after two weeks prior. He had succeeded in finding a floor plan of the palace in Carlton House’s extensive library, although the map had been done before the fire. 

However, if young Harry and Frederick could find the study, Louis was confident that he could too. From there, things are a little less clear. He is not sure what he expects to find in the alpha’s study, but he does know that if any evidence of a role played by Prince Augustus in Harry’s disappearance exists, it will be found there. He intends to be efficient, returning to the ballroom before anyone can comment on the length of his absence. 

If he finds nothing, then Louis has resolved to give up his admittedly far-fetched ideas. But if he does… if he does, then he will have the proof needed to present to Court and make sure that Harry will no longer be in harm’s way once and for all. 

But first, the tunnels.

Louis creeps down the corridor, relieved that his assumption that all palace guards would be concentrated in the courtyard and patrolling the grounds to keep unwanted persons away was correct. With a guest list as exclusive as this one, what reason would they have to worry? 

The mirror is exactly where Louis expected it to be, hanging above a marble-plated table displaying a golden candelabra, tips sunken from use. The frame of the mirror is gold and bears the carved head of a wolf at its apex. Glancing over his shoulder, he carefully moves the candelabra aside so that he is able to climb onto the piece of furniture. 

He grips the sides of the mirror, running his fingers up in search for the latch that Harry described a long time ago. Panic sprouts inside him when he stumbles upon nothing. “Where are you?” he whispers, pressing the side of his face to the wall in order to see for himself. 

It occurs to him that he did not check the bottom edge and then all it takes is a second before his fingers have brushed over a latch, so small that it must be impossible to see even if he could lay on his side and look up under the frame. He undoes the clasp, hearing the telltale click before tugging at the edge of the mirror. The door opens easier than he anticipated and he nearly tips backwards off the side of the table before finding his bearings. 

Immediately, a damp and musty smell seeps into his nose and he wrinkles it. He scoots to the side of the table so that he will not be knocked off as he pulls the door halfway open. It is impossible to open it entirely but thankfully Louis does not require a lot of space. Before he tries to enter, he jumps down from the table and tugs open the single drawer, eyes roaming the contents before falling upon a circular tinderbox. Triumphant, he ignites the tinder – appearing to be scorched linen – and then uses the brimstone match to pass the flame onto one of the candles from the holder. 

With his source of light acquired, he carefully pulls himself back up onto the table and then begins the process of slipping into the passageway. Legs first, he lowers himself into the tunnel, heart leaping to his throat when he realizes the drop is significantly higher than he thought. Harry was able to get in here when he was a child, he reminds himself, and then promptly lets go. 

A strangled gasp is pulled from his throat right before his feet hit the ground, heart rattling in his chest. He takes a deep breath before reaching up on his toes to grab the candle. His nerves return as he pulls the mirror-door shut again, officially shutting himself into the old passageway. 

“I am truly doing this,” he murmurs to himself, biting his lip as he takes in his surroundings. The light from the candle flickers, casting an eerie glow that reveals the stone walls. The tunnel is incredibly narrow, not much wider than Louis himself, and the ground is more dirt than anything else. Louis should have brought along a spare set of slippers. 

Pushing away his discomfort, he once again pictures the map he memorized and turns to the right. The tunnel will go down, he knows, until he is properly under the palace. Then he shall walk fifty paces before turning right at the bend and heading up to the study. 

“It will be over before you know it,” he whispers to himself, before lifting his candle for better sight and beginning to walk. 

Very quickly, Louis comes to the realization that it is extraordinarily cold down here. A wintry draft slips past the fabric of his dress, chilling him to his bones. He does his best to ignore it, gritting his teeth and forcing himself to walk faster. He mustn’t waste a second. 

As predicted, the ground slopes downward before levelling out again a few minutes later. Louis begins to count his steps, letting the task distract him from the feeling of dread growing in the pit of his stomach. Harry never mentioned how frightening the tunnel felt – he could not help but feel as if he were being watched, a shiver traveling down the length of his spine at the thought. 

A rustling sound has him freezing in place, terror clawing up his throat. Bats, his mind conjures unhelpfully. Rats, mice, snakes. Perhaps this was not as clever of an idea as he thought. 

You must do this, he tells himself, squeezing his eyes briefly. He pictures Harry and his smile, dimple peeking out and eyes bright with love and life. It acts as his second light, tugging him forward as he resumes counting under his breath. With every step taken, he feels farther and farther away from the ballroom and any other human, accompanied only by the sound of his own harsh breaths and his pounding heart. 

He stops counting at forty-five, for he can see the break in the path ahead of him and there is no need to continue. He hurries forward and turns right with renewed energy. He is almost there. 

However, as he reaches the end of the tunnel and lifts his candle to find the hatch that will unfold out into Prince Augustus’ study… he illuminates an opening which has been boarded up entirely. 

Stunned, all Louis can do is stand and stare at the sealed entrance. How can this be? He summons his memorized map to the forefront of his mind, heart thundering in his chest. This passageway had been marked as a main one, and Louis was certain Harry said that it would remain forever as a safety assurance. But the sight before him could not be mistaken. 

The passageway was closed, and Louis’ plan has shattered like glass. 

Perhaps he had gotten the map wrong. Maybe the study was a little farther on, or he was meant to turn left rather than right. His mind races with the possibilities, trying to quell the panic rapidly climbing up his throat. 

There is a single moment where Louis notices the imprint of a shadow looming over him against the wall before something is pressed to his throat. Something sharp. 

At first, the sensation does not register within him. Sharp does not connect with pain and pain does not connect with pain. He is confused, exhaling and inhaling. And then the pressure increases, and he can’t breathe anymore. His body locks into place, limbs rigid and eyes widened in horror. The edge of a blade is so close to his neck that all it would take is one deep breath and it would cut through skin. His grip loosens on the candle, flame dancing in the dark. 

“Good evening,” says an achingly familiar voice. 

Paralyzed with apprehension, Louis is unable to react even as shock and realization unfurl inside him. Everything he thought he knew crumbles into dust. 

“Leaving the ball so soon, Cinderella?” the voice continues. 

“Frederick,” Louis chokes out, nausea rising in his throat. An icy cold shiver pricks up his spine. His mind cannot fathom what is happening, even as the pieces begin to fall into place. “What are you doing?” he still asks, voice wobbling. 

“It pains me greatly to be here,” Frederick says, a sickly sorrowful lilt to his voice. “I did not want to have to do this.”

“Do what?” Louis asks shakily, squeezing his eyes shut. He flinches when the blade leaves his skin, lurching forward. Jagged hope rises in him and he opens his mouth to speak right as large hands wrap themselves around his neck, heat bleeding into his skin as the grip tightens and tightens around his throat. His words stutter into a strangled gasp, breath stolen from his mouth. His vision blurs with tears and his throat burns. Suddenly, Louis knows he is about to die. 

But he is not dead yet. His hand shakes with tremors as he thrusts the candle back horizontally, ramming the flaming wick into flesh. A pained howl erupts behind him, the hold slackening from his neck. He inhales two large mouthfuls of air, eyes burning with tears, before he’s spinning on his heel and springing forward. Terror trembles through him as he runs, still gripping his now extinguished candle in his fist. There is no light, just the sound of his pounding heart as he tears through the tunnel back in the direction he came. 

Behind him, Frederick curses and grunts, and soon the loud thumps of footsteps can be heard echoing behind him. Frederick is running after him. 

“Help!” It tumbles from Louis’ lips, half a sob and half a scream. “Someone help!” 

“There is no one to hear you down here,” Frederick growls behind him, anger heavy in his voice. 

Louis runs as fast as he can, feet slipping in his satin slippers. He should have brought boots to change into, he thinks hysterically. He is going to die, he thinks next.

He is crying when Frederick finally catches him, fisting the material of his skirt and wrenching him back. He fights against the hold, pushing and elbowing and pulling, but it is no use. Frederick shoves him to the floor and he lands with his hands flat against the hard ground, skin burning at the impact. 

“You did it,” Louis blubbers, whimpering when Frederick’s fingers tangle in his hair roughly, yanking him to his feet. He is spun around violently, and the sight that greets him is bloodcurdling. Frederick is breathing hard, blanketed in darkness. His eyes gleam white, rage captured in his irises. “You sent Harry away. You – you tried to kill him.” The word tastes bitter on his tongue. 

“And it should have worked,” Frederick thunders, pulling his knife out of his pocket. “Strangulation would be far more believable for my intentions but perhaps Harry stabbed you in a fit of rage.”

“Harry –” Louis blanches, Frederick’s plan sharpening. “You will frame Harry for my death,” he says in disbelief. “Are you mad? No one will believe that.”

“Oh, won’t they?” Frederick says, laughing cruelly. “When they read the report of Harry’s feral behaviors that Mr. Bolton was kind enough to send me upon request? And they see your battered body that could be the work of no one but a savage? I shall be most devastated when I hear the news but I will testify faithfully in your honor to put the monster away for good.” 

“Why?” Louis says helplessly. His mind races, hunting for any possible escape, but his search is fruitless. “How could you do this to Harry? Your own cousin?”

Frederick scoffs. “We are not cousins,” he snaps. 

“You are,” Louis says, shaking his head as he stumbles back. “He was your friend and confidant.”

“He was a thief,” Frederick roars. “A wicked imposter living the life that was destined for me.” 

It dawns on Louis slowly. “You want the throne.” 

“Clever omega,” Frederick sneers. “Of bloody course I want the throne. It is my birthright. My father was supposed to be king – he toiled and trained for this kingdom for eighteen years only for the godforsaken queen to choose her precious youngest to rule instead.” He stalks closer, a depraved smile twisting his lips. “Do you have any idea what it feels like to watch a fraud take your place? The precious crown prince, so handsome and regal. Admired by all. Do you have any idea what torture it is to always be second-ranked, always a step below a charlatan at every event and ball. To watch others look at him in awe when he is nothing but a criminal? To have the entire kingdom chant his name when it should have been yours? It should have been me.” 

“You’re mad,” Louis says breathlessly. He is trembling, fingers quivering where he has them behind his back. He needs to find a way out, but there is nowhere to go down here. He was trapped. “The crown was never yours,” he continues, “and it never will be.”

Frederick tips his head back and laughs. “Oh, but it will,” he says, amused. “I have spent the past twelve years preparing for this from the moment I befriended the pretender in our youth, and now, I shall finally succeed.”

“But you will not be king, your father will,” Louis counters, courage waning quickly. All he can do is prolong the inevitable. The inevitable being that he is going to die tonight. He thinks of Harry, and how they had spoken so giddily about their future just days ago. He had been right the first time – it was all too good to be true. 

“My father will be dead by the season’s end.” He says it so casually that Louis’ horror grows. “I have been slipping small doses of arsenic into his morning tea for days already. It will not be long before he perishes.” Frederick’s eyes flash. “But at least he will finally be monarch for a little while.” 

“You murderer,” Louis breathes, horrified. Poisoning his own father. “You will not succeed. The devil has never prevailed in history, and the pattern will not falter for you.”

“And who, pray tell, will stop me?” Frederick asks, amused.

“Harry will know,” Louis says determinedly. “He will find out. He is too smart for your ugly games.”

“On the contrary, if your fiancé is not sentenced to death for his crimes, he will meet his demise in the form of grief,” Frederick says. “He will be driven mad by your death, and there shall be room for nothing else.”

“You are evil,” Louis spits, tears streaming down his face. “Your soul is darker than the darkest of nights and it shall be your reckoning. You are a demon among men, a -“ He cries out, pain flaring in his cheek as he reels back from the impact. The alpha has slapped him. 

“You are nothing but a pitiful excuse of an omega,” Frederick growls, looming over him like a wolf ready to pounce. “The clock has struck twelve, Cinderella. You have run out of time.” 

Louis inhales and exhales shakily, cheek throbbing. He forces himself to gather every ounce of his courage, thinking of Harry and the family they dreamed of having one day. He wants it more than anything. When Frederick wraps his hands around his neck again, he brings his knee up hard. 

Frederick lets out a howl, shoving him backwards. 

His back hits the wall harshly but the jolt shocks him more than harms. He staggers forward, ears ringing and hands shaking. When he finds his footing, he takes off running again, each step taken sounding deafening in the dark. 

“For heaven’s sake,” Frederick grunts, furious. 

A choked scream is torn from Louis’ throat when a large weight barrels into him, knocking him to the ground. “Please,” he stutters, heart hammering in his chest. “Find some humanity in yourself, Frederick.”

“Humanity?” Frederick laughs. “Why, that has been stolen from me as well.” 

Louis tries to fight, but he is stuck on his front, Frederick pinning him down and preventing him from escaping. His courage shrivels and is replaced by terror. There is nothing he can do when Frederick once again wraps his hands around his neck and begins to squeeze. Louis squeezes his eyes shut, omega wailing in pain and horror as his mind begins to go hazy and the pressure becomes unbearable.

All at once, it stops.

The hands are wrenched from his neck and he chokes on empty air, coughing and wheezing. Tears spill from his eyes as he tries to catch his breath. 

“Run, Louis,” says a voice – one that is most familiar to him of them all. 

“Harry?” he says, forcing himself up onto his feet. He turns and stills. 

Harry has Frederick slammed against the wall, the blade of a sword pressed into his throat. It is a guard’s sword, long and sharp. Frederick glares at Harry with the heat of a thousand suns, pure hatred in his eyes. But Harry is looking at Louis, radiating angry and concerned pheromones. “Are you hurt?” 

“How’d you find me?” Louis blurts, voice cracking. His throat still feels as if it were on fire, a phantom grip still tight around his neck. 

“You needed me,” Harry says simply. “And, I witnessed Frederick enter the passageway after I went to search for you.” He shoves Frederick harder against the wall. “I would have arrived sooner but I went the wrong direction at first. It has been a while since I roamed these tunnels.” 

Frederick attempts to spit in his face, heaving. Harry pushes the side of his face into the wall, growling like a wolf. 

“I remember feeling as if I was forgetting something extremely important when I met you tonight,” he says, a coldness in his voice that Louis has never heard from him before. “It badgered me through every dance but I could not for the life of me remember what it was. It came to me when I went to look for Louis and instead saw you enter this passageway.” His expression becomes stiff and blank. “You and I met to go riding the night before I disappeared. I snuck out of the house through the passageway in the throne room and we met at its exit because you said it would be like old times when we’d run from our governess to play in the gardens. But no one was aware of my absence and that is exactly what you desired.”

The alpha does not respond, fury and hatred burning in his gaze. 

“It was the wine, wasn’t it?” Harry asks. “We both drank straight from the bottle, but I suppose you would have been pretending. How could you?”

“You are a fool if you believed we were truly friends all these years,” Frederick snarls. “I was nothing more than a brief notation in the epic of your life. You pitied me, I know you did. Ever since we were young. I was never as intelligent, or strong, or charming. You pitied me, and I loathed you for it.”

“And you are a fool if you believe I did not hold you as my dearest friend for my entire life,” Harry says grimly. “Hell and the Devil, I treated you as if you were my own brother. Yet you have betrayed me in the most ghastly of ways. You played the role of my friend and supporter all the while plotting my demise. You poisoned me when I was vulnerable, and then you committed the worst sin of them all; you attempted the murder of someone I love.” 

Louis shivers involuntarily, feeling the ghost of hands closing in around his neck. Never will he forget the terror he felt in those moments when he believed there to be no hope left in the world.

“You are lucky I do not kill you where you stand for putting your hands on him,” Harry growls. At this moment, he is more wolf than human, taut and ready to pounce. “What do you say to these accusations? What explanation will you provide for your crimes?” 

Frederick lifts his chin, teeth bared. “I would do it all again in a heartbeat,” he grits. 

It is impossible not to feel revulsion at such an exclamation, but Harry does not reveal even an ounce of his emotion, expression blank and controlled. Louis startles when an explosion of footsteps rumble through the tunnel. 

“I told them to wait until you had confessed,” Harry explains, his smile empty. 

Louis steps aside just in time for half the palace guards to charge into the space, halting abruptly at the sight of the princes. Harry steps back, releasing Frederick from his grip, and the nearest guards rush to replace him in restraining the alpha who bares his teeth and growls defensively. 

Harry turns his back on his cousin, eyes finding Louis’. There is concern in his eyes but it is drowned out by an outpouring of relief. He moves towards Louis and cradles the sides of his face, appearing as if he wants to say something. Instead he leans in and rests their foreheads together, exhaling shakily. 

“I’m sorry,” Louis whispers, though he is not sure what he is referring to. All of it, perhaps. Every lie he spoke aloud and every piece of information he withheld. 

“You brave, astounding creature,” is all Harry says in response. Louis can see the slight tremble in his hands as he smooths them through Louis’ hair and then wipes the tears from his cheeks. He had been terrified for him. “You are here and you are alive. That is all that matters.”

⚜️

It is ten before one when he and Harry are finally led out of the palace with a full section of guards as an escort. They are informed that the ball has ended early and Louis sees glimpses of fellow guests flocking out to the grounds, no doubt confused and taken aback by the sudden turn in events. 

“We will have to send out a formal announcement about the investigation,” Harry murmurs, sounding apprehensive. “This will come as a shock to everyone.” 

“It certainly is a shock,” Louis mutters, digging his fingers into Harry’s arm a little bit harder. He is shivering even after the alpha draped his coat around his shoulders. However, it succeeds in hiding the state of his dress, fabric torn in several places and skirt coated in dirt. His throat is raw and tender. “I still cannot fathom such a betrayal. How can someone hold such unprovoked fury for their blood?” He grimaces. “He even refused to acknowledge that you two are cousins.” 

Harry clears his throat. “He is technically right about that though.”

“What?” Louis says, taken aback. “About what?” 

“We are not cousins,” Harry says. “Not by blood.” 

Louis halts abruptly, directing his gaze upon Harry in disbelief. “What?” 

“Frederick… he is not Prince Augustus’ son,” Harry says slowly, a wistful sadness in his eyes. “He’s a bastard.” 

All Louis can do is continue to stare at him in shock.

“He found out when his parents divorced,” Harry continues, lowering his voice even further. The guards are not likely to listen in on private conversations, but one can never be too careful. “They had both been unfaithful to the other numerous times but never did Frederick imagine he could be a product of one such affair… He was devastated by the news, but he refused to speak about it with me when I tried. I kept telling him that it changed nothing. He was a prince and part of our family. Eventually he seemed to have accepted it and everything returned to normal.”

“Goodness,” Louis says, stomach twisting. 

“Perhaps… perhaps I should have noticed the signs sooner,” Harry says unsurely. “How can I have been so blind all this time?”

Louis frowns, distressed at the idea of the alpha blaming himself for what is entirely attributed to Frederick and his devious nature. “You could have never known,” he says firmly. “Because Frederick did not want you to know. He planned this for years, Harry. He betrayed you and your trust, and then tried to kill you for heaven’s sake. He is the only one to blame now that it is finally over.” 

“It is finally over,” Harry repeats, sounding a little weary. “You are right. The truth has prevailed as it always does, and soon justice shall be served too.” 

Louis nods, grimacing. Frederick will stand trial for his crimes before the Court and both Harry and Prince Augustus, who has now been made aware of his incremental poisoning, will testify against him. 

It is a relief to climb into their carriage and leave Oatlands Palace behind. Louis lets out a small whimper when Harry takes hold of his hips and hoists him into his lap, cheeks flushing bright red. “Harry,” he says warningly, eyes flickering nervously to the windows of the compartment. It is around midnight now and they would most likely not be visible to any onlookers, but Louis still feels as if they could be caught any moment. 

“You have survived a near death experience today. Allow me this indulgence,” Harry murmurs, rumbling quietly as he noses up Louis’ neck. He is almost frantic in his movements, as if engulfing Louis with his scent is the only way to ensure that he is truly here and safe. 

“I’m sorry I worried you, Alpha,” Louis says again, feeling sour guilt curl through his body. He cannot imagine how distressed he would be if he had been in Harry’s place, almost witnessing the alpha be strangled before his own eyes. 

“I just can’t believe you attempted to catch a potential murderer and told no one,” Harry says, speaking the words into the arch of his cheekbone. Louis had told him all of it as they waited in one of the empty guest rooms for the guards to patrol the palace for any lingering threats. His feelings that Harry was in danger, his theory that Prince Augustus had been behind it all, and his plan to find evidence. 

Now, Louis buries his face in the alpha’s neck to hide, inhaling his scent. “It was never supposed to go so wrong. I was just terrified to lose you,” he lets out in a mumble. 

“I want to be upset with you for being so willing to put yourself in danger, but I cannot be,” Harry murmurs. “Because I know that I would do everything and anything to keep you with me, and I know that is why you did this.” He presses his lips to Louis’ ear. "However, I do humbly request that you tell me if you plan on confronting any potentially wicked beings in the future. My heart cannot bear this kind of surprise.”

“Believe me, it is not a habit I intend to make,” Louis says, shuddering. 

“Well, that is a relief,” Harry says, tightening his embrace. He meets Louis’ eyes. “I know that you have carried so much in my absence, and you've done it all on your own. In fact, I believe you've done it your whole life."

Louis does not respond but they both know the alpha is correct.

"I've always admired your strength," Harry murmurs, gaze softening. "But part of being in love is allowing your partner to take some of that weight for themselves. I'm here, Louis. You do not ever need to spare me." He takes Louis' hand. "Promise me. Promise me that you will be open with me from now on. I had no idea you were so worried about my safety all these weeks, and it pains me to imagine what you have been enduring emotionally without my knowledge. I know you could not rely on me for the first few weeks of my return, but afterward... I could have been there."

“I promise,” Louis says immediately. He does not want to keep any further secrets from Harry, not ever again.

“All I want is to keep you safe,” Harry murmurs, eyes shutting. 

“You do,” Louis says quietly. “You have. You saved me, Harry. When I needed you, you were there. You always are.” 

“And I always will be,” Harry says, opening his eyes to gaze at him tenderly. “That is my promise to you, beloved.” 

Louis rests his head on the alpha’s shoulder, sighing out softly. “My heart is yours. I love you.”

“And mine yours,” Harry says, tightening his fingers around Louis'. “I love you endlessly.” 

They spend the remainder of the trip in silence, savoring every small touch and shared breath. What prevails over all else, Louis thinks distantly, is love. 

⚜️

June, 1819

Louis and Harry are married on the solstice. 

They had made the unconventional decision to restrict the guest list to an attendance of no more than a hundred guests, an action almost unheard of. Despite the gossip they both knew would be provoked, they agreed that they did not desire being wed in front of hundreds of practical strangers. 

As custom, Harry remained in Carlton House for the day prior while Louis had temporarily inhabited what would now become his private rooms at St. James Palace. He was awakened by his ladies-in-waiting in the early morning and then presented with a bundle of crimson roses along with a velvet box. 

Inside lay a beautiful sapphire brooch inlaid with a dozen diamonds along with a note. 

Dearest, 

Today, I shall reach the crest of utter happiness. I bestow upon you this gift as a final token of my gratitude in doing me this great honor. I will confess that I chose it because it reminded me of your eyes. I hope you slept well, my love. I am eager to never spend a night apart from you again. 

Yours faithfully, 

Harry 

Inwardly swooning, Louis hurries to his desk to print out his reply. Afterward, he dresses quickly into a pale blue Half Dress and is then ushered to the dining room where he has a delightful breakfast with his fellow ladies. In attendance as his bridesmaids were Lucinda, Perrie, Florence, Grace, Christopher – whom he had once befriended quickly after his marriage to the Duke of Sussex in late Spring, and Emma, one of his second cousins who he had been close with in childhood before she had moved to Bath. 

Giddy conversation and well wishes make for a pleasant meal and then Louis is quickly escorted to the drawing room where he sits for Peter Turnerelli, the Italian sculptor who will be carving nuptial busts of him and Harry that will join the Royal Collection. For an hour he remains as still as he can, which proves particularly difficult when Niall enters at the turn of the hour with refreshments for both Louis and Turnerelli and the beta twists his face into an outrageous expression in an attempt to break Louis’ composure. His effort almost succeeds, and Louis has to bite his lip briefly to tamp down his smile. 

It is hours later when Turnelli finishes, and Louis’ face feels stiff from maintaining his graceful countenance. However, he is rendered speechless at the beta’s work. The completed bust will be a product of another week or so, but what the sculptor has accomplished in their session bears such a strong resemblance to Louis that he is in awe of it. 

He thanks the sculptor profusely before meeting the ladies for a hasty luncheon. Harry sends more flowers with a note addressed to my angel that has him blushing and his friends cooing at the display of affection. Then Louis is escorted back to his rooms to begin the process of readying himself for the wedding. 

For once, he allows himself to be dressed by his ladies-in-waiting, if only because he would not be able to adorn his wedding dress himself. It is a gown of splendid beauty, silver lamé on net over a silver tissue slip, which Florence had crafted over the course of a month and two days. The full skirt is embroidered with flowers and the sleeves trimmed with fine Brussels lace. The manteau was silver tissue as well, lined with white satin and bordered with more carefully done embroidery. It was meant to be fastened with a diamond pin, but instead Louis hands Katherine the sapphire brooch to pin on instead. 

He drapes the pearl necklace gifted to him by Elizabeth, who once adorned it herself on her wedding day, over his neck and lets Jane fasten diamond earrings to his ears. And finally, he lifts the wreath of pale blue delphiniums and white gypsophila. 

“Absolutely stunning,” Lucinda praises when he enters the drawing room where his bridesmaids have gathered. She looks like a vision herself in pale white silk, her skirt curving outwards over the growing swell of her stomach. 

By now, the rest of their guests shall be arriving at the palace, but Louis stays out of sight until the eighth hour. He and his bridesmaids are accompanied by a legion of guards to the Chapel Royal where the ceremony will take place. With the absence of his father, he will be escorted down the aisle by his cousin, Robert. It is not the most ideal of choices but he was limited by the constraints of societal custom. If he could, he would have Elizabeth walk him down the aisle and hand her off to her son, but instead she will do so in spirit. 

Lucinda hands him his bridal bouquet, a gorgeous array of cornflowers and lilies of the valley, and smiles radiantly. “Beautiful.”

Feeling suddenly very emotional, Louis sniffles. “Thank you, Lucy… for everything.” 

“Do not cry before the ceremony even starts,” Lucinda warns, but she appears similarly affected, eyes glittering as she squeezes Louis’ hand affectionately. “This is your day.” 

His day. Oh how he has waited for this day. It has been three long years since he and Harry began their courtship as well as perhaps the longest royal engagement to ever occur, but everything has finally fallen into place. Louis and Harry will take their oath of devotion to one another with the witness of all their closest friends and family. 

Louis feels dizzy as he places his hand on Robert’s offered arm, clutching his flowers to his chest with his other. His heart is pounding as the doors to the hall are pulled open by Henry and Jacob. He and Robert make their entrance as the audience quietens respectfully. Louis can feel the gazes of a hundred guests focused on him. In another situation, he might find himself nervous or overwhelmed by the attention, but today he does not notice it. 

How can he when at the end of the aisle, he can see Harry standing tall and handsome in his black uniform. His eyes are widened in awe and adoration as he gazes upon Louis, lips pressing together as if overwhelmed by the sight of him. Louis feels similarly submerged in admiration, heart swelling in his chest as he approaches the front of the room. He wants to smile – and sing and dance and cry – but it would not be proper. Instead he lets the joy show in his eyes as the Royal Minister receives him, gripping his right hand and then using his right hand to grip Harry’s left. 

Staring ahead at Harry, Louis feels pure happiness overtake him. Even his heart seems to beat with joy as the Minister begins to read from the Book of Prayers. 

“Your Royal Highness, Harry Edward Styles, wilt thou have this omega to thy wedded spouse? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him, so long as ye both shall live?”

Harry stares at him with so much love in his eyes that Louis feels faint. “I will,” he says, loudly and clearly. 

“And Lady Louis William Tomlinson, wilt thou have this alpha to thy wedded spouse? Wilt thou love him, comfort him, honour, and keep him in sickness and in health; and, forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him so long as ye both shall live?

Louis is unable to smooth away his smile this time, letting it bloom across his lips unashamedly. Immediately, Harry beams at him back. “I will.” 

Thus begins the dance of hands. Harry takes Louis’ right hand in his, the pad of his finger brushing over the back of Louis’ hand in a secret caress. 

“I, Harry Edward Styles, take thee Louis William Tomlinson to be my omega, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, and thereto I give thee my troth.”

They loose their hands and this time Louis takes Harry’s right hand with his own, voice shaking a bit with emotion as he utters his own vow. “I, Louis William Tomlinson, take thee Harry Edward Styles to be my alpha, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better for worse, for richer for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and to cherish, till death us do part, and thereto I give thee my troth.” 

The Minister hands Harry the ring which has been blessed with the book, and Harry squeezes Louis’ hand as a gesture meant solely for them. 

“With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee worship, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow,” he says slowly. 

He takes Louis’ left hand and carefully slides the ring onto his fourth finger. It is pure silver with a small sapphire gemstone in the middle. Like your eyes, Louis can almost hear the alpha saying. 

Simultaneously, they both lower themselves to the ground, kneeling. 

“Those whom fate hath joined together let no man put asunder,” the beta speaks, joining their hands together. He leads the hall in a final ceremonial prayer to the wolf mother before concluding with a final, “With the power endowed upon me by the holy wolves, I declare thee wed.”

They are then presented with the formal register which the Minister signs first, followed by Harry, and then Louis. His hand shakes slightly as he prints his signature, not from doubt or nerves but from overwhelming joy. 

After three years, one of which was the hardest and longest of his life, they are finally married. 

Louis is grinning widely when he and Harry walk down the aisle together hand in hand as the guests throw rose petals over them and bless them with wishes of health and happiness. He wants to turn to Harry and embrace him intimately but he must wait. The ceremony may be concluded but the wedding is not yet finished. 

Outside the palace, Harry holds his hand out to help him into the golden open-roof carriage built specially for the occasion. They lead a procession down Marlborough Road and wave to the townspeople who have flocked the streets to catch a glimpse of the king and his bride. More rose petals are thrown, cheers and yells filling the air as they drive to Buckingham House for the remainder of the festivities. 

The wedding banquet is a jovial affair in which Louis and Harry dine with their family and relatives. Lady Margaret is nowhere to be seen, having been excluded from the guest list – there have been some rumors that she stood outside St. James’ Palace, demanding to be let in until the guards had no choice but to escort her away. Harry had been the one to propose the snub first, believing that the omega should not be present on such a happy celebration when she has done nothing but make life miserable for Louis. In the end, Louis agreed, although he is certain he will see some vile things said about him by his aunt in the gossip columns in the coming weeks. 

An empty chair is left on Elizabeth’s right in memory of the late King James, and they toast him after toasting the newly wedding couple. There is another family member absent, though not deceased, but he has been dismissed of his title and from all of their lives ever since the trial had concluded in late April. 

Down the table, Princess Helene and Prince Andrew sit with their daughter. And then there is Prince Augustus with his new wife, Princess Evelina. The prince had caused a small scandal when he returned from his extended holiday in Scotland with a new bride on his arm, but they appear genuinely pleased to be in each other’s company today. Louis is certain he shall never rid himself of his dislike of the alpha but he will acknowledge his misjudgements and has apologized to the prince personally. The scars and imprint that the events of the Spring ball will remain for some time yet, but Louis is pleased to find that there is no lingering strain upon seeing these particular members of Harry’s family. 

In fact, Louis intends to feel nothing but relentlessly happy today, and it seems to be a relatively easy feat. The cake which has been baked for them is enormous, spanning the width of a small table and towering three five layers high. Harry feeds him the first bite, laughing when Louis reciprocates and accidentally smears some frosting on his nose. 

They eat until their stomachs ache and then do a round of the hall to thank every guest personally for attending. Louis is finally introduced to Niall’s lover and makes sure to inform her of the beta’s endless struggles when it came to winning her affections. He giggles and gossips with his bridesmaids and other ladies of the ton, and begins to tear up when Elizabeth takes him by the shoulders and tells him that his mother would be so happy for him. 

He watches fondly as Harry plays with all the children of the Royal family, many of whom live too far away to visit on normal occasions, letting them sit on his shoulders and pull at the badges and pins on his uniform. He catches the alpha’s eye and they share a private smile, both thinking of the vast future laid out before them. 

It is early in the morning when they all gather in the courtyard to send him and Harry off. He blows kisses and waves and smiles until his cheeks hurt before being helped into the carriage – closed this time. Finally alone, Harry cups his cheek and kisses him passionately, a small glimpse of what will be. 

For what awaits them at Carlton House is complete and utter privacy, all staff dismissed until later that day. There is one final responsibility to fulfill today, and Louis finds himself to be both nervous and eager as the carriage clacks over the cobblestone streets on the way home. 

⚜️

They have barely stepped foot out of the carriage before Harry has swept him up into his arms. He carries Louis with an arm beneath his knees and another bracing his back up the portico to the front door, leaning down to kiss his forehead before crossing the threshold into the house. 

Although they have officially averted bad luck with Harry’s feat, the alpha continues to carry him as he strides through the hall and then the vestibule to his private apartments. They have gone unused over the past few months as Harry chose instead to remain in the guest room he and Louis inhabited over the first few weeks of his discovery. Meanwhile Louis had reluctantly returned to his own rooms when scrutiny over the new king was at its highest. If the alpha sometimes snuck down the hall to join him in bed several times a week, no one in the household would say a word. 

However, now that they were married and were now free to spend every night in each other’s company, moving into the Royal Apartments as a couple felt almost fitting. 

Harry speaks softly in Louis’ ear as they walk through the Blue Velvet Room and through his personal closet, whispering I love you and you look so beautiful with my ring on your finger and other sweet nothings that send butterflies fluttering in Louis’ stomach. 

The bedchamber is painted a lovely pale blue, marble fireplace on the west side with a portrait of the seaside hanging above the mantel. A crystal chandelier hangs from the recessed ceiling which depicts waves of a soothing shore and marble plated tables are pushed against the walls beside mahogany chairs with red velvet cushions. The real wonder is the bed itself, a colossal mahogany frame with a circular canopy, blue curtains draped beautifully to reveal the perfectly made bed, sheets white silk and pillows embroidered with blue thread. 

“Your favorite color really is blue,” Louis says, marvelling at the gorgeous room. 

“It is as if I knew all along,” Harry murmurs, setting him down gently and then cradling the sides of Louis’ face with his large hands. “What is on your mind, Omega?”

“I’m nervous,” Louis admits, gripping Harry’s arms. “But I trust you.” 

Harry leans in and kisses his forehead. “I do not know what you have been told,” he says slowly, “but this is about both of us. I will not do anything that you do not want me to do. Now do you have any questions? I shall answer them all.” 

“I know… I know what is to happen,” Louis says, cheeks pink. “My aunt felt it beneficial to understand what will be expected of me. I hope that does not dissuade you.” 

“Nothing about you could ever dissuade me,” Harry murmurs. “And nothing is expected of you. I know there is a tradition that one’s wedding night occurs with the intention to bond.” He pauses. “And to conceive, but that is the expectation set by others upon us and this does not involve them. We do not have to do anything except sleep. The decision is yours.”

Louis bites his lip, ducking his head shyly. He is warmed by Harry’s kindness, but he cannot deny the desire twisting in his stomach and quivering in his fingertips. “I want to,” he mumbles. “I want you.”

The alpha’s scent seems to thicken at his words and when Louis looks up, his eyes have darkened with lust. “Whatever you desire is yours,” he says. “I will take care of you, treasure.”

“I know you will,” Louis says, heartbeat increasing. 

When Harry kisses him, he lets out a sigh of bliss. The alpha’s scent envelops him in its safe embrace and he falls into him, arms winding around his neck for stability as the alpha hoists him up into the air again, this time wrapping Louis’ legs around his waist. 

He walks forward and lowers Louis onto the bed with great care, dragging his lips down the column of Louis’ throat and making the omega shiver, breath caught in his throat. “You looked exquisite today,” he murmurs into Louis’ skin, following his words with a lingering kiss over his pulse. “When I saw you walk down the aisle in this dress, I was almost brought to my knees. A lovelier bride could not exist. There are no words to express how lucky I am.” 

“You were quite dashing yourself,” Louis says breathily, cheeks flushing a dark shade of pink as the alpha presses kisses down the exposed plane of his sternum, leaving imprints of his touch blooming in his wake. 

When Harry’s hands slide beneath him, he lifts his body, clinging to Harry’s shoulders as the alpha’s fingers find the ribbon ties and carefully unfasten them. The dress slips down his shoulders and Harry tugs it down completely, moving to undo the laces of his cotton corset next until soon Louis is left in the thin fabric of his chemise. He whines quietly under the heat of Harry’s gaze, eyes trailing over the unveiled contours of his body through the translucent fabric. 

Then he too unfastens his uniform jacket, medals and pins rattling as he drops it unceremoniously over the side of the bed. He then pulls his linen undershirt over his head, revealing the expanse of his chest. 

Louis forgets how to breathe for a moment. Even though he had caught quite the glimpse of Harry’s naked form on the morning of his return, he was still not prepared for the reality up close. His eyes trail over the alpha’s front, halting at the waistband of his trousers. He feels equally intrigued and nervous. 

The alpha catches his hand, bringing it forward. “Touch me,” he compels quietly. 

Cheeks bright red, Louis’ hand shakes as the very tips of his fingers brush against skin. Harry presses forward when he hesitates, bridging the gap. Overwhelmed, Louis flattens his hand against the alpha’s chest, feeling the movement of rise and fall as he breathes. Harry’s skin is warm and solid beneath his hand.

Harry’s hand curls around the side of Louis’ neck, thumb stroking over his flushed skin, and tilts Louis’ face up to seal their mouths together with a soft grunt. His scent is overpowering, sending a tremor through Louis’ body. 

A small whimper tumbles from his lips when he feels the first traces of slick wet his thighs, body unconsciously pressing up closer to the alpha above him. Harry’s nostrils flare, picking up on the change in his scent. He lets out a low growl, and Louis gasps when the alpha’s teeth graze his bottom lip. 

He slides his hands up to grip Harry’s shoulders, fingers sinking into the muscle with barely concealed desperation as Harry’s hand slips under the skirt of his chemise to settle against his bare leg, heat bleeding from his palm into Louis’ skin. 

“I want to discover what pleases you… to learn your body as well as my own,” Harry murmurs against his lips, hand sliding higher up his thigh. “To see you so overcome with pleasure that you are trembling with it.” 

“Alpha,” Louis breathes, trembling as a sudden wave of slick seeps from his lower regions, soaking through the sheets beneath him. He feels as if he were in the midst of heat – as if a blaze is burning within him, filling him with a hunger that is impossible to ignore. “Please.” 

Harry breaks their kiss to lick a stripe up his throat, making him shudder in pleasure. “I will take care of you, beloved,” he says, finally grasping the edge of his chemise and dragging it up and over Louis’ head. He is now completely bare, laid out before his alpha in his most vulnerable state. He cannot help the small prickle of uncertainty washing over him, compelling him to turn his head and push his face into the mattress in shame. 

However, Harry seems quite unhappy with this action, chest rumbling with displeasure. “Do not hide from me, sweet omega,” he murmurs, gently sliding a hand between Louis’ cheek and the bed. “Look at me.”

Heart pattering in his chest, Louis opens his eyes slowly. He is met with Harry’s eyes, fixed intently upon him. 

“You are the most beautiful creature I have ever seen,” he says quietly, his irises so dark that they no longer appear green. “My beautiful bride.”

Louis’ head lolls back, a soft whine slipping from his lips.

“You enjoy that?” Harry asks, voice hoarse as he leans over Louis’ body. “When I call you my bride?” 

“Yes,” Louis admits in a breath, tilting his chin up as Harry dips down to kiss him again. The alpha lowers himself until they are pressed together, skin against skin. In return, Louis tangles his fingers in Harry’s soft curls, panting into his mouth. 

His eyes flutter shut when Harry pulls back to undress himself fully, the sound of fabric being tugged down and his own heartbeat deafening to his ears. He smiles when he feels the slight press of lips to his forehead.

Harry drags his lips down the bridge of Louis’ nose, planting a kiss to the tip, and then to his lips. He trails kisses down his neck and chest, following the flush of his skin down to his navel where he lingers. It feels akin to a promise, and just the implication has Louis feeling lightheaded. 

He tenses as Harry continues his path down his body, skimming his lips down the jut of his hip bone down his thigh. He pauses and bites down, making Louis whine. 

“You smell…” Harry does not complete his sentence, choosing to groan instead. “I would like to taste.”

“Taste?” Louis repeats, confused. 

Harry lifts his head, surprised. “Ah, your aunt has not shared everything with you.” 

“Shared what?” Louis asks hesitantly. 

The alpha’s smirk makes him huff, going as far as to push him away with his foot. Instead, Harry grabs it, pressing his thumb to the arch of his foot. “I would like to pleasure you with my mouth,” he says bluntly. 

Louis’ cheeks burn red, suddenly flustered. “You – pardon?” 

“Do you trust me?” Harry asks, eyes meeting his with a gentle steadiness. “I promise it will feel good. If you do not like it, I will stop immediately.” 

Biting his lip, Louis nods. His mouth drops open when the alpha proceeds to grasp his thighs, pulling them apart. Instantly, another wave of slick pulses from inside him, his hips pressing upwards as he mewls. 

He watches in hazy disbelief as the alpha leans down… and licks up the inner skin of his thigh where slick is dripping down. And then his lips are descending between his thighs and –

Louis stiffens and then falls lax, lips forming a silent oh as Harry laps at the slick streaming from his entrance as if it were honey, a rumble echoing in his chest. The pressure where he craves it is almost too much to handle and he writhes against the bed, gasping and moaning at the alpha’s relentless ministrations. 

“Sweet,” Harry eventually lifts his head to reveal, voice gravelly. His lips are bright red, glistening in the light. They are stained with his slick, he thinks faintly. “Just as I suspected. Like vanilla and sugar.” 

All he can do is stare helplessly at the alpha, still breathing hard. Wetness has gathered in his eyes and his cheeks are no doubt flushed redder than a rose. He is unable to form words let alone sentences to respond his obscene declaration. 

Observing his current state, Harry’s lips twitch into another smirk. “I see you enjoyed that. I shall make note of that for the future.”

The future. Harry will do this to him again. Overwhelmed, Louis closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. He flinches when Harry nuzzles his face into his stomach, grazing his teeth over the small swell. “How are you feeling, my darling? Do you want to keep going?” he asks. 

Louis opens his eyes to meet Harry’s concerned gaze, heart fluttering with how earnest he appears. “Yes,” he admits, swallowing before adding shyly, “I want you to knot me. I want to be full.” 

It is Harry who closes his eyes this time, as though he is struggling to restrain himself. “You drive me mad,” he murmurs, but it is not said with malice. He opens his eyes, nostrils flaring. “I will give you my knot,” he promises. He leans over him, a stray curl falling over his forehead. “But first I must open you up,” he murmurs. 

This part is much more familiar to Louis. He digs his nails into the skin of Harry’s back, clinging to him as the alpha presses his first finger to his entrance, easing it in slowly. Right away, Louis is struck at the difference. Harry’s fingers are both thicker and longer compared to his, and it feels very evident as the alpha slides it inwards.  

“I remember the first time I saw you,” Harry murmurs against his lips, trying to distract him from the slight pain stemming from the intrusion. “Mum told me you’d be pretty but she did not tell me that you would take my breath away from first glance.”

Teeth sinking into his bottom lip, Louis presses forward into Harry’s touch, whining high in his throat. “Charmer,” he chokes out weakly. 

“But your beauty, although incomparable, was not your most appealing quality,” Harry whispers. “It is your heart, Louis. Your heart that I fell in love with. 

Louis is unable to respond at first, too preoccupied with dragging his nails down Harry’s back helplessly as the alpha begins to slip another finger in beside the first, pushing deep inside him. “I love you,” he says, flooded with the intensity of his emotion for this alpha. “It was not my choice to be engaged to you three years ago… but it is the best thing that has ever happened to me.”

Harry kisses him hard. His length is pressed up against his thigh, leaking from the tip. Louis has avoided looking at it too long, unable to fathom how such a thing will fit inside him. But he knows his body will find a way. It is embedded in an omega’s nature. 

When the alpha finally retracts his fingers, Louis lets out a whine of protest at the sudden emptiness and Harry hushes him, stroking his thumb over the side of his neck where his bond mark will lay.

“I’m here,” he says softly. “I’m here, sweetheart.” 

He takes Louis’ hands in his own, intertwining their fingers before pressing their hands to the mattress on either side of Louis’ head. “Are you fine?” he asks, resting their foreheads together. 

“Yes,” Louis says breathlessly. “Need you. Please.”

Harry grunts, kissing his nose before lifting his head. “I shall go gentle,” he promises, momentarily letting one of his hands go to align himself. 

The first press is too much at once, pain jolting through his system. He cries out, squeezing Harry’s hands so tightly he is surprised the alpha does not falter. 

“You are doing wonderfully,” Harry whispers, rubbing circles on the backs of his hands and pressing kisses over his face – his lips, his forehead, his nose, and his cheeks. “Absolutely perfect.” 

Louis grits his teeth, focusing on Harry’s soothing touch as the alpha eases in bit by bit. When his length is sheathed entirely in Louis’ heat, they both sigh in unison. The pain lingers for a period of time before slowly morphing into pleasure. 

Never has Louis been full to this extent, pressure so unbelievably divine. He is overwhelmed by it, and Harry has not yet even begun to move.

“Are you hurting, Omega?” Harry asks, the slight tickle of eyelashes brushing against the apple of his cheek. “Tell me, darling.” 

In response, Louis rocks down experimentally, making a soft sound at the feeling while Harry groans. “No,” he answers finally. “Please. Please knot me, Alpha.” 

“Anything for you,” Harry murmurs. He slides out slowly, before snapping his hips forward. 

Louis’ lips part, breaths stilted as the alpha carves out a controlled pace, each slow draw of his hips pushing his cock deep inside him. He feels as if he has transcended the vessel of his body, existing only in the realms of pleasure and bliss as Harry thrusts into him.

He pauses at one point to adjust his position, pulling one of Louis’ legs up and holding it there as he increases his speed. Louis’ mouth truly does drop open then, the new angle allowing the alpha to push even deeper than before – so deep that Louis cannot help but feel as if he is pushing up into his stomach.

His hand drifts down to settle over his navel, unsure if he is imagining the swell that he finds. Harry falters on his next thrust when he notices, letting out a groan. He leans forward, lips brushing Louis’ ear. 

“You will look so lovely swollen with my pups,” he says, desire heavy in his voice. 

The sound that slips from Louis’ mouth is entirely foreign, half a moan and half a sob. He clings to the alpha’s shoulder with his free hand. “I want it.” 

“I’ll give it to you,” Harry vows, grunting. “Will keep you full all the time until you’re pregnant. You will look so beautiful carrying our children.” His hand flattens over Louis’ stomach. “My darling omega.” 

“Knot me,” Louis pleads, desperate for it. “Bond me.”

Harry growls, continuing with renewed vigor. Soon Louis is able to feel the alpha’s knot swell at the base of his knot, eyes widening as it catches on his rim. For a moment the stretch is unbearable, but Harry joins their lips together and kisses him through it. 

“Bond me,” Louis repeats into his mouth. 

Grunting, Harry drags his lips down Louis’ throat to the side of his neck. “I love you,” he says, and right as his knot locks into place, he bites down.

Louis cries out, caught between two different sensations. It takes him some time to realize that he has also come, his release staining his stomach in ribbons of white. His neck pulses with pain and pleasure, vibrating as the bond strengthens. 

“I love you,” Harry repeats softly, kissing him all over his face. “My angel. My perfect omega.” 

“Alpha,” Louis mewls. It is the only word he remembers at this moment. “Alpha.” 

“I’m here, lovely Louis,” Harry soothes, kissing the top of his head. “My beautiful bride. I love you so much.”

“I love you,” Louis echoes. He slowly regains feeling back into his limbs, moving his hips curiously to rest the knot binding them together. He can feel the stream of come pumping into him, filling his insides with Harry’s seed. It is a strange but not entirely unwelcome sensation. 

He opens his eyes, meeting Harry’s adoring gaze. “Alpha,” he whispers.

“Omega,” Harry echoes, smiling. Already Louis can feel the love emanating from him through their still tender bond. “What did you think?”

“What did I think?” Louis repeats, dazed. “I… quite enjoyed myself,” he admits. 

Harry kisses the back of his hand, expression turning devilish. “That is good, for we shall be enjoying ourselves quite a bit over our honeymoon.”

Louis’ mind wanders, a curl of anticipation forming in his stomach. If this is what marriage entails – a lifelong bond with the love of his life and pleasure beyond any of his dreams – then he is quite ready for it. 

⚜️

May, 1820

The day before Harry’s coronation, Louis finds the alpha standing before the same painting in the Old Throne Room, hands clasped behind his back. He stops beside him silently, hoping that his presence offers the alpha support rather than overwhelm. 

“I wish he were here,” Harry says quietly. 

It has been almost a year and a half since Harry’s father has passed, and the formal kingdom mourning period for a monarch has been completely observed. Although Harry has been king for thirteen months already, he will now be crowned officially. 

“He may not be here,” Louis says softly, turning to face the alpha. He reaches out and places his hand flat on Harry’s chest, right over his heart. “But he is here. And he’s so proud of you.”

“Is he?” Harry asks, appearing equally amused and uncertain.

“Of course he is,” Louis says gently, flooding their bond with love. “I am as well.”

Harry takes his hand and brings it to his lips to kiss gently. “Thank you,” he says. His attention is drawn to the sleeping pup in Louis’ arms, a soft expression overtaking his face. “How is our little dove?” 

“She’s lost in her dreams,” Louis murmurs, smiling down at the infant. Dorothea Ann Styles arrived in the world just after midnight on March 29th and has changed their lives entirely in the best way possible. Both Louis and Harry are completely and utterly enamored with her, unable to let her out of their sight for too long. 

Carefully, Louis hands their daughter off to her father, watching as her brow wrinkles as if sensing the movement in her sleep. She had been fussy all morning, crying and screaming no matter how many lullabies Louis sang for her. She eventually tired herself out and drifted off, and Louis has been savoring the peace for as long as he can. Thankfully, she does not stir as Harry begins to rock her gently from side to side. 

The alpha looks upon their daughter as if he has never seen something so precious. Louis is quite familiar with the expression himself. Dorothea is seven weeks old, small tufts of dark hair growing from her head and eyes a greyish-blue. It is much too soon to guess what color they will end up being, but Harry is certain that she will share her mother’s eyes – his favorite color. 

Smiling fondly at the two of them, Louis turns back to study the painting hanging in front of them. It depicts a king, his Luna, and their pup. A family. And now the next generation stands before it in the same exact way: three souls intertwined and bound – by blood but most importantly, by love.

“Are you happy?” Louis asks, leaning into Harry’s side and turning his head to nuzzle into his shoulder. 

“The most happy,” Harry says, kissing the top of his head. “I love you. Forever.”

“I love you,” Louis echoes, lips curving up into a small smile. “Forever.” 

All his life, Louis had been certain that he would never have the happy ending that every hero or heroine in the novels he’s read seemed to have. As he stands with his beloved husband and newborn daughter within the walls of Carlton House, he can say with utmost honesty that he has never been more pleased to be wrong. 

⚜️