Chapter Text
People disappear all the time—young omegas run away from home, pups stray from their parents never to be seen again, and housewives take the grocery money and a taxi to the train station. But most are found eventually, with tales of their disappearance and an explanation. Usually.
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They had decided on Scotland for their second honeymoon—or, at least, that’s what Liam had called it. The trip was intended to celebrate the end of the war and their return to each other; a restart on the lives they had paused for nearly five years and begin their lives anew. But it was more than that. Though it had gone unsaid, Louis knew that they both felt that a holiday would be a convenient masquerade for the real business of getting to know the people they’d become after five years apart.
Louis was no longer the same omega he had been prior to the war. Five years ago, he was bubbly, bright, and exuberant—never without a smile on his face or a joke on his lips. Now, he wasn’t sure who he was. That young 18-year-old was a stranger to him now. He had heard the other nurses whispering about him, calling him jaded and rough around the edges, but Louis felt stronger for having been in the war. He felt braver, resilient, and wiser from the experiences he’d had, and dare he say, he liked who he was now more than the naive young pup he had been before.
However, he wasn’t the omega that Liam had fallen in love with. He had changed so much in the last five years and it appeared that Liam hadn’t changed one bit. Their relationship was just like the battlefields Louis’ soldiers had found themselves on—precarious, mine-filled, and foreign. He only hoped that the tension he could feel between them eased over time as they relearned what it was to be married to one another.
Green—it was all Louis saw as he looked out across the rolling hills of the Scottish Highlands; nothing but lush grass and mountains as far as the eye could see. It was beyond stunning, and Louis couldn’t help but feel like he’d been plucked from the life he once knew and dropped down into this mountainous paradise—worlds away from the horrors he had seen in his medic tent.
Here, there were no screams, no red blood staining his hands or stench of death clinging to his nostrils. There was only beauty. Blue skies, green hills, and serenity.
Adjusting the silk scarf covering his hair, Louis closed his eyes and inhaled the sweetest air he’d ever smelled with his lips in an upturned, soft smile as the whipping wind kissed his cheeks—no doubt turning them pink with the chill it carried. Riding beside Liam in their Cadillac, Louis felt as though he were flying. He felt free.
The town of Inverness was picturesque with its cobbled roads, friendly faces, and a 19th century cathedral that Louis in particular was looking forward to exploring the following morning. Liam had informed him on the drive there that it was the largest city in Scotland, situated along the River Ness and the Moray Firth with the Cairngorm Mountains looming in the distance. As he craned his neck in an effort to take in the sights and sounds, his senses were alive with the excitement of it all.
When their Cadillac slowed to a roll, Louis glanced over at Liam in the driver’s seat, his hat shadowing half of his face and his lips turned into a frown. “What do you suppose that is?” the alpha questioned, nodding his head towards a strike of red over the door of the bed and breakfast they would be staying in.
At first glance Louis knew exactly what that was. “Oh,” he spoke in surprise, his brows raising as he lowered his sunglasses. “Blood.”
“Are you sure?”
Lips pressing together into a thin line, Louis pulled at the sleeves of his tweed jacket firmly and nodded curtly. It’s not as if he hadn’t spent years getting familiar with the stain of crimson in his clothes and smell of iron making his stomach churn. “I think I should know the look of blood by now. Yes, I’m quite sure of it.”
His husband hummed to himself as he stood from the car, stretching his legs and groaning at the aching stiffness of his back. Liam’s eyes narrowed as he rested his hands on his hips, head bobbing in a slow nod. “There’s a stain just like it on the house next door and there’s two more just down the street.” With an amused chuckle, Liam held his hand out for Louis to take, his hand large and soft as he fit their fingers together. “Well, my dear, we seem to be surrounded by homes marked by blood, how curious.”
“Perhaps the Pharaoh has refused Moses and the spirit of death will travel the streets of Inverness tonight sparing only those who mark their doors with the lamb’s blood,” Louis mused with a small dry laugh. He slid the silk scarf off his head and looped it around his neck, fixing his fringe as best he could without a mirror and hoping that he maintained a somewhat presentable image.
“Actually, you may be closer than you think. According to my research, there will be or was some sort of sacrificial ritual, but I suspect it to be pagan rather than Hebrew.”
“I had no idea Inverness was such a hotbed of contemporary paganism.”
“Well, Omega, there’s no place on earth with more magic and superstition mixed into its daily life than the Scottish Highlands,” Liam noted as he held the door of the inn open for his wife, removing his hat respectfully before following him inside. “After you, darling.”
The inn was warm and cozy, dark wood everywhere and a dusty-rose colored rug spread in front of the check-in counter. Behind it was a thin, older woman with gray hair neatly tucked into a bun, tortoise shell glasses perched on the tip of her small nose. “Hello, dears,” she greeted in her willowy voice, accent strong and welcoming. “Welcome to the Inverness Bed and Breakfast.”
“Good afternoon, madam,” Liam responded, running his hand along his neatly gelled hair. “We were just admiring the Old Testament display outside.”
“Aye,” the woman laughed. “The blood you saw is that of a black cockerel. It’s an old custom at this time of year to make such a sacrifice to honor Saint Odhran.”
“Ah, Odhran, he was sainted in the eighth century if I’m not mistaken?” Liam mused, a confident smirk fitting his lips as he straightened the sweatervest adorning his torso.
“Oh, you know yer history!”
Louis hummed, raising his brows as he shifted from foot to foot, quelling his own impatience. His back was rather sore from sitting in the car for the majority of the day and he would really love to be flat on his back in a nice warm bed right about now. “I’m afraid my husband is a historian, ma’am. He’ll quite happily stand here and talk your ear off for hours if you encourage him.”
“Are you here on work then, Mister…” the lady asked, trailing off while retrieving a set of keys and sliding them across the counter.
“My apologies,” Liam hummed. “We’ve not yet introduced ourselves. My name is Liam Payne and this is my wife, Louis. I’ve just accepted a post at Oxford teaching history in two weeks.”
“Ah, well you may call me Miss Baird while you enjoy your stay. Is this a last holiday before settling down into workaday life again, Mister Payne?” As Louis began to nod his confirmation, Liam spoke up, confirming their intentions for their trip, leaving Louis to hide his yawn in the crook of his arm while the woman smiled cheerfully. “Well, ye picked a bonny time to be here, just in time for Samhain.”
“I take it that’s gaelic for Halloween?” Louis asked.
Liam draped his arm around Louis’ shoulders and tugged him closer, mahogany and hazelnut mixing with Louis’ own scent of lavender and honey. “Well, Halloween is derived from Samhain,” the alpha explained. “The Church often took pagan holidays and renamed them for their own purposes. Samhain became Halloween, Yule became Christmas, and so on.”
Miss Baird nodded with a pleasant smile and handed them a printed pamphlet. “Well, you’re both welcome at the festival, of course. Mind you, ghosts are freed on the feast days, and they’ll be wandering about, free to do good or ill as they please.”
“Well, of course, what would Halloween or Samhain be without a good ghost story?” Louis hummed tiredly.
Miss Baird chuckled at the weariness of the omega, slipping out from behind her desk and smoothing her hands over her apron. “Oh, and we have those for sure. Come, I’ll show you to your room.”
Liam and Louis followed the woman down the hallway and up the cramped spiral staircase to the second floor of the bed and breakfast. The wooden walls were lined with various pictures taken around town, and as they passed by the photos Louis marveled at the joyful exuberance of the photographs. He’d not seen a frowning face among the townies thus far nor the gray gloom that he had become familiar with in the past few years. Though he had only been in Scotland for less than a day, he was beginning to wonder how the town of Inverness seemed to have been saved by the horrors of the war.
Their room was quaint, lit only by the warm afternoon sunlight filtering through the lace curtains and filled with warm and cozy blankets, rugs, and a small fireplace across from the bed. It was lovely and welcoming, bringing a soft smile to Louis’ face as he wandered into the room. As he trailed his fingers over the soft knit blanket draped over the end of the bed, distant memories of being a young pup snuggled up in his mother’s nest came trickling back to him.
“Thank you, Miss Baird,” he heard Liam say. His back was turned to the other two as he gazed out the window, watching alphas, omegas, and children all dressed in shades of brown, beige, and gray wandering the streets below.
Their host murmured a few other things that Louis wasn’t paying close enough attention to before the door to their room was closed with a soft click. And just like that, he and Liam were alone once more, every ounce of tension and words left unsaid being locked in with them the moment the door shut, the air between them stifling.
Louis turned, arms crossed across his chest as he faced his husband. He’d considered whether or not they would feel like this had they mated all those years ago. Would it still feel as though there were an ocean between them, lost feelings drifting on the tides and a storm of confusion brewing in his veins had he and Liam bonded? It had seemed like such an easy decision back then, to spare themselves the heartache of a broken bond had something happened to the other during the war—but now that connection between them felt as though it was but a single thread, worn so thin that the slightest shift would wither away at whatever tie there was left.
Liam’s eyes flickered to the bed. “Would you like to—”
“I think I’ll be resting my head for a bit,” Louis blurted, shying away from Liam’s gaze. “It’s been a long journey and I’m knackered.”
“Oh. Of course. I’ll jaunt down to the shops and find us some provisions, if you’d like? Or would you like me to stay with you?”
Shrugging, Louis twisted his ring around his finger and rolled his bottom lip between his teeth. “Perhaps you could find some chocolate?”
Liam nodded slowly. “Of course, dear. I’ll give you some peace then, yeah?” With a chaste press of lips to Louis’ forehead, the alpha made his leave, allowing Louis the time to collect his thoughts and settle himself.
He knew Liam carried guilt on his shoulders, the shame of his inability to fight in the war looming over him. When he was still a young alpha pup, a doctor had told Liam that he had a condition with his kidney due to his premature birth and it had cost him his ability to fight for his country. Though he didn’t speak about it, it wore on Liam that he had stayed in London while his wife had served on the frontlines, caring for soldiers—resulting in this unspoken sea of tension and apprehension that neither one of them knew how to address.
Liam’s passion for history and his own genealogy was another reason for choosing the Highlands. In a way, burying himself in the past gave Liam an ability to escape the recent. While Louis was in the army, Liam had served in London overseeing spies and covert operations. He’d sent dozens of men behind the lines on missions and most never came back. It preyed on him, settling into his bones and haunting his dreams.
Before the war, they were inseparable, but for the last five years, they saw each other for a grand total of 10 days. When the war ended, they both thought things would return to the way they once were, but they hadn’t.
≻⊱⌘⊰≺
“See up there? The top there, that’s Cocknammon Rock. In the 17th and 18th centuries, you’d have often found a British patrol up there lying in wait for Scottish rebels or brigands. You can see how it commands the high ground in every direction? It was the perfect position for an ambush.”
Dressed in his tiffany blue suit and an offwhite fascinator, Louis found himself yet again seated in their Cadillac, listening to Liam recount battles he’d read about and pointing out landmarks spread throughout the Highlands. After Louis’ nap, he’d felt a bit better and he and Liam had decided it would be a fun outing to check out the festival from the pamphlets Miss Bairns had given them. It sounded like great fun and Louis was hoping to try a few scotches and get to take in the local culture outside of what he’d read in books.
“Are you listening?” Liam asked, dragging Louis back from his mental wandering.
Truthfully, Louis had not. The enormous hills and looming cliffs, although beautiful, had transported him back to a dreary night nearly three years ago, reminding him of trudging through mud thicker than molasses as it squelched in his boots and clung to his feet. The wet earth had made their haul through the French countryside painstaking and slow-moving as the very ground they were walking over tried to suck them in and swallow them whole. The scent of dirt, sweat, and blood hung like ghosts in his nostrils, reminding him of dangers that Liam could never have imagined.
“Yes, of course,” Louis promised and reached over the stick shift to lace his fingers through Liam’s with a timid smile. “Go on, tell me more.”
“Well, I imagine that Captain Jonathan Payne and his men would likely have used these very hills,” Liam explained and pointed to the peak of Cocknammon Rock, an awe-inspired expression passing over his features as they cruised past.
Jonathan Wolverton Payne—precisely the man who was the reason for their trip up north into the Highlands. Louis couldn’t exactly recall just how distant a relative the man was to Liam, but Liam had traced his family tree all the way back to Captain Payne. Every historic military document Liam had found raved of the alpha’s bravery, earning him the moniker Captain Black Jack Payne. A frightening name indeed.
Louis shielded his eyes with a gloved hand and hummed, squinting against the sun. “Intriguing.” History had always been more Liam’s passion than his own, but he’d become accustomed to sharing in Liam’s interests even if they weren’t particularly his own taste.
“It’s really quite something,” Liam breathed, smiling widely as he pulled his gaze from the rocks to his spouse. “I don’t believe I’ve said it yet, but I want to thank you for coming here with me, my dear. I know this might not have been your first choice, but I think this will be good for us, don’t you?”
Admittedly, Louis wasn’t sure what he was expecting out of the next week. They still weren’t formally mated, but it was no secret that Liam desired to finally make things official in the coming days, to finally leave his mark on Louis and fully claim him as his own. If things went as planned, Louis would return home to London with not just a ring, but a bite on his neck. Everything would change from that day forward. Once they shared a bond of the souls, there was no going back, no changing his mind. To be mated was to sacrifice his self-interest. Perhaps he was only being selfish, but he was terrified to bits.
“I do,” he murmured and squeezed Liam’s hand. “There’s no one else I would rather be here with.” It wasn’t a lie; out of every alpha, beta, or omega Louis had ever encountered, it was Liam who offered familiarity. Despite the tension that existed between them now, he still knew Liam, or at least knew what to expect with his husband. There was some comfort in predictability, of never being surprised or taken off guard, he had heard many an omega in his ranks agree on as much. As he looked at Liam he saw black and white, his world monochromatic and s afe with such an alpha.
With a broad smile, Liam brought Louis’ hand to his lips and pressed a light kiss to his knuckles. “I love you, Louis.”
Chest tightening, Louis nodded his agreement. “I love you, too.”
But what if he craved the resplendent hues of sunsets, oceans, and thick jungles? The possibility of more called to him as a siren to a ship, sending shivers over his flesh and whispering in his ear. You could feel alive.
Upon arrival at the festival, Liam wrapped a protective arm around Louis’ shoulders in a possessive, alphaistic display of dominance—an act that done by any other man Louis would have likely rolled his eyes at. With their shoes clacking against the cobblestones, Liam pointed out a few of the historic shops, the cathedral, and even the castle perched in the far distance that one could only see when the fog lifted. It was any historian's dream to find themselves immersed in such a quaint, nostalgic town that embraced and preserved the past so strongly.
Lights were strung up along the roads, casting a warm glow over the streets in the setting sun, and it was all rather enchanting, taking Louis’ breath away as they wandered into the throngs of attendees. There were so many smells and sights and sounds, flooding Louis’ senses and delighting his eager omega. For the first time in a long while, he felt the thrill of excitement over the unexplored zip up his spine. He longed to run, let loose, and experience everything he possibly could without a care in the world.
Beside him, Liam perked up, smiling at the bookstore with piles and piles of books organized neatly on shelves set up on the curb. Hand on Louis’ shoulder, he tugged the omega along with him, buzzing excitedly at the novels on display.
“Oh, look! Louis, they have your favorite,” chirped the alpha cheerfully, snatching a paperback copy of Gone with the Wind from the stack. Its sunset orange cover was instantly recognizable and the two figures embracing one another had been the picture Louis had dreamed of for years when it was first published, not a month older than 16 at the time. He used to look at the cover of the novel and trace the lines of perfect hair, perfect smiles, and perfect love, envisioning himself printed on the cover, preserved forever as a beautiful omega with the ideal alpha cradling him so closely.
It was not but a broken dream now—a faded memory that the omega scoffed at, to think that such a world could ever exist in which a utopia was possible.
“Actually, I’ve been reading a lot of Agatha Christie nowadays,” Louis admitted and ghosted his fingertips along the spines of the novels. “She’s become my new favorite author. I quite enjoy her mysteries.”
“Oh.”
Dejectedly, Liam slid the romance novel back into its place and forced a tight lipped smile. Louis had once adored Margaret Mitchell and would often find himself completely swept into the world of Scarlett and her love life, naive to the real tragedy of the story. He used to weep for her, saddened by the aspect of never being with your true love but now, he couldn’t even imagine reading such a book.
After he had returned home after the end of the war, he had thrown himself back into reading in an attempt to escape the horrific dreams plaguing him night and day. The mysteries of Agatha Christie had instantly caught his fancy, intriguing him and enrapturing him in their stories. He’d read at least eight of them, each one earmarked in the corners of their pages and spines well-loved and worn from use. Compared to what he’d seen as a nurse, the books were relatively lighthearted, but not obnoxiously so.
“I didn’t realize you liked detective novels.” Liam pushed his hands into the pockets of his trench coat, toe of his loafers digging into the gravel.
Louis shrugged. “I find them quite interesting. They’re not so sappy as to make one feel like their teeth might rot out with how overly sweet they are. They’re a nice light read.”
“Murder is a nice light read?”
To Liam, Louis was sure it seemed alarming that an omega of gentle birth would find such literature entertaining, if not even a bit comforting, but in Louis’ mind, at least he wasn’t nursing a bottle or sipping Laudanum like other omegas who had served with him. It could have been far worse.
“Not all of them are about murder,” Louis dismissed with the rise of his shoulders. “Look, they have books about the jacobites.”
As expected, Liam eagerly turned the direction Louis pointed in and the omega slouched against the bookshelf, crossing his arms around his chest. His husband was soon consumed with his curiosity just as Louis had known he would be, leaving Louis free to do as he pleased out of the questioning eye of his future alpha mate. It wasn’t as though Liam was particularly controlling, but there was an unspoken rule between them: be the omega Liam once thought he was.
With Liam preoccupied, Louis discreetly slunk away into the crowd and immediately was swept into the current of villagers, wandering aimlessly through the booths. There were merchants of all varieties, filling the town with their shouts, the music, and the smell of assorted foods traditionally enjoyed by the Scots. It felt like stepping into another world, as though he’d been plucked from his pointless toiling life in London and transported into a strange new land of joyous townspeople and the bleat of bagpipes filled his senses. Louis loved it. Intrigued, he wandered deeper into the festival, an excited energy thrumming through his veins.
Being alone was something that used to bother him immensely. As a young pup, he often purposefully got himself into trouble or put himself in the middle of conflict in search of some sort of attention; a side effect of having an absent mother and a dead father, he was sure. If left alone for any extended period of time, his omega would stomp its feet and retaliate the only way he knew how, demanding attention. But he’d learned to enjoy his solitude, finding peace and the satisfying confidence of independence in his time alone. He now craved the freedom of not being tied down.
He stopped a few times to sip the signature Scotch Whiskeys and even try a bit of haggis, which was strangely not as bad as one would expect it to be. A small booth tucked amongst a band of old betas with ancient instruments and another booth selling trinkets for the Samhain festival caught his attention more than the other merchants. It was draped with rich tapestries in hues of emerald, burgundy, and a deep chocolate brown that looked luxuriously mysterious. Perched beneath the sign was a plump woman, sporting short blonde finger waves and a drab gray a-line dress. She looked so terribly normal. Out of curiosity, Louis was drawn to the booth and the peculiar woman seated within, incense and sage wafting in the air.
“Hello, dearie.” The woman smiled as he approached, her blue eyes so light they could have been made of ice. Her wrinkled hands were folded atop the table, the simple silver ring adorning her right index glinting in the swaying lanterns.
“Hello,” Louis murmured politely, cautious but intrigued by the wares displayed on the table.
“Come closer, my dear.”
There was an air about the woman despite her average looks and less than notable appearance that had Louis’ stomach flipping and his heart fluttering behind the cage of his ribs. Compelled by her aura, he did as he was told and stood before her with his fingers fidgeting in front of him.
“Can I interest you in a reading?” she asked. The simple pearls strung onto gold hoops dangling from her ears glittered and swung with her every movement, hypnotic and eye-catching. He wondered briefly if the pearls were real, as such things, as understated as they were, were incredibly rare after the war.
“A reading?”
The woman nodded. “A reading of your choice; palm, tea leaves, or cards, perhaps? It won’t cost you but a few shillings.”
“Oh,” Louis breathed, shaking his head. “I don’t really believe in—“
“What’s your name, dear?” she interrupted, lips pulling into a smile.
“Louis.”
“Louis,” the woman murmured, tapping her fingers on her table. “Are you a church-going lad?”
“I am.”
“You know, I didn’t believe in much of this either when I was a young pup, but the spirits have their way of making themselves known. I clean for the minister here in town, I’m sure you’ve met him, and I’ve seen more mystical activity within his four walls than I have at the graves,” she mused. “I’ve got a sense of these things, you see. I can’t explain it, but I have a sense about you too, young Louis.”
It was likely just a bunch of blarney used on tourists such as himself to pry a pretty penny from their purses, but Louis was curious. He didn’t believe in ghosts or ghouls or think that one’s future could be told from a crystal ball, but what was the harm?
“Okay,” Louis finally agreed, skepticism written in his features. “How much for a palm reading?”
As the woman collected her coins from the omega, Louis primly pulled off his delicate gloves matching his pantsuit and held out his hand with his palm up. When the woman took his hand in hers a shiver of excitement creeped up his arms and bloomed in his chest, her pale fingers brushing over his palm as she stared at the lines pressed into his skin.
“Odd,” was the first thing she said, muttered quietly more to herself than to her customer. She shook her head and licked her lips, glancing up at Louis before explaining. “Most hands have a likeness to them. There are patterns, you know? But this is a pattern I’ve not seen before.”
She remained quiet for a few moments as she stared at Louis’ hand. The intense gaze of this strange woman was almost beginning to feel uncomfortable, her eyes so intently focused that Louis had half a mind to rip his hand from her grasp and demand his money back. She shook her head and cleared her throat, smiling apologetically. “The large thumb, it means that you’re strong-minded and you have a will not easily crossed.”
With a strained giggle, the omega nodded his head and raised his shoulders in a shrug. “I’ve been told that a time or two,” he admitted. “Most call it pig-headed stubbornness.”
“Aye,” the woman agreed with a smile, “but it makes ye strong.” Her cold and wrinkled finger trailed over another line in his palm and she hummed, “And this is your Mount of Venus. In an alpha, it means he likes the laddies or lasses, but it is a bit different for an omega.” She laughed, the sound seeming too loud for the quiet corner of the festival they were hidden in. “To be polite about it, your husband is not likely to stray far from your bed.”
At this, Louis blushed and ducked his head, heat prickling at his ears and creeping down his neck. He wouldn’t deny that he had once had a healthy sexual appetite, one that Liam had been shocked by when they had first begun seeing each other seven years ago, but it had since faded a bit. Those desires still lay dormant, simmering beneath his skin and just waiting to be let loose. With the tension between himself and the alpha as of late, he’d not felt very in the mood since returning from war, but he supposed her words still rang true. Years ago, he hadn’t been able to keep his hands, or mouth, off of Liam.
“The lifeline,” she continued. “It’s interrupted—all bits and pieces. The marriage line is divided which means two marriages.”
The energy Louis had felt coursing through him fizzled out, draining from his shoulders down to the tips of his fingers. Two marriages?
“But most divided lines are broken. Yours is…forked,” her voice quavered, frown lines deepening as she peered up at him. “There are two men in your fate.”
“Louis?”
With a shuddered breath, Louis ripped his hand away from the woman’s wrinkled grasp and clutched it to his chest, covering the hammering of his heart against his sternum. Two men and two marriages —how could it be?
Louis shook the fog from his head, blood pounding in his ears and temples throbbing as he turned to face Liam, whose lips were downturned in a frown with his arms crossed. “Louis, don’t run off like that,” Liam scolded as he came to stand beside his wife and put a protective arm around Louis, the weight of his arm pressing down on Louis’ shoulders heavily, like an anchor.
“Sorry,” Louis mumbled dazedly and slid his glove back onto his hand. “I was just speaking with—“
“Mrs. Graham,” Liam said in surprise and extended his hand to the woman. He easily plastered a smile onto his face and his soft hand enveloped hers with a firm shake. “It’s good to see you again.”
Liam had mentioned meeting a few of the townspeople on his errand the previous day while Louis was napping, but evidently he’d not been paying attention, as he didn’t remember ever hearing Liam mention meeting a fortune teller. The alpha’s gaze was worried, hidden behind a veil of polite manners and a carefully constructed facade that Louis could see right through.
“Nice to see ye as well, Mr. Payne. And a pleasure to meet your wife.”
“Of course.” The alpha glanced at his wife, a wrinkle formed between two thick brows as he straightened his sweater vest and squeezed Louis’ shoulder. “I do hate to cut this short, but I believe we best get going.” With pleasantries aside, Liam smiled tightly and led Louis away from the table with a firm hand, his scent thick and heavy with the need to claim as he cloaked the omega in his smell. It filled his lungs like a billowing cloud of smoke, getting stuck in his nostrils and his throat, as Louis coughed into his gloved hand.
The alpha was quick to whisk Louis away, herding him towards the food stalls with an arm around his waist and his grip wrinkling the material of Louis’ pastel blue suit. From scent alone, Louis could tell his husband was upset—stinking of burnt hazelnut and musty wood, but for exactly what he was upset about, Louis wasn’t sure.
“Liam, are you alright?” he questioned, cursing under his breath as he stumbled over the cobbled paths. Louis steadied himself on Liam’s arm and peered up at the stoney alpha. He had half a mind to chastise the man for wrinkling his suit, but Liam’s brown eyes were narrowed and his temple fluttered with each clench of his jaw, biting back words. “Did I do something wrong?”
Out of the fray of Scots and tourists alike, Liam spun on his heel and inhaled deeply, taking Louis by surprise with his abrupt turn, and crossed his arms over his chest. “Mrs. Graham, she spoke of two men,” he spoke stiffly through clenched teeth, pinching the bridge of his nose with a shake of his head in disbelief.
“Yes, but she was just spitting nonsense,” he assured with a frown, wringing his fingers and worrying his bottom lip. Liam had never been the type of man to become jealous over an alpha showing attention to his omega before, he was level-headed—painfully so. Even when an alpha was clearly flirting with Louis, he would merely smile and wrap an arm around his lover rather than cause a scene. To see Liam upset by something as miniscule and insignificant as a palm reading was befuddling.
“I don’t know that. It might explain a few things,” Liam muttered and leveled an angry gaze at his shiny brown loafers. “Would make sense why you’ve been so distant lately. It isn’t uncommon that an omega in your position might find a soldier to warm their bed—”
“Liam James Payne, are you insinuating that I might have been unfaithful to you?” Louis laughed in the shock of disbelief, annoyance laced in through his tone.
“I just—”
“No,” Louis hissed, glaring at his husband. “I would never do such a thing and you should know that by now. I have never once broken my vow to you and yet you dare suggest that I would ever disrespect you in such a way.” His temper flared and his hands curled into fists by his sides as that all-too familiar stubborn flame flickered to life in his chest.
At the parting of Liam’s lips in further protest, Louis stomped his foot, his scent going bitter as his jaw set tight and his brow pinched. He’d never been the type to find himself in a physical altercation but never in his life had he felt such a desire to throttle someone as he did watching his scholar husband try to accuse him of being unfaithful. “Now you listen here, you cotton-headed alpha,” he growled, hands on his hips as he stepped closer to his husband, jabbing a finger into the center of his chest. “If you think I would invite another man into my bed then you’ll find yourself not welcome in it.”
At his words, Liam’s head lowered in shame and his shoulders sagged with a sigh. “I’m sorry,” he mumbled, rubbing his hands over his tired eyes and clean shaven jaw. “You’re right, my dear. I should never have suggested it. I didn’t mean to offend, it’s just that I love you so much my heart could all but burst and it pains me to feel this void between you and I; I thought that perhaps you no longer loved me.”
The change in his husband was so quick it was enough to give him whiplash. The man looked small for an alpha so large, shoulders hunched and head lowered as he sighed heavily in defeat, almost broken. It wasn’t easy, their situation. Louis couldn’t entirely blame Liam for wondering if maybe Louis had found another man to give his heart to, but he would have hoped Liam trusted him more than that.
“I still love you.” Louis reached out, his smaller hand taking Liam’s as he gently skated his thumb over the back of Liam’s hand, the promise dangling on the tension between them. “We will make it through this.” They had to. There was no other option but for them to figure things out and find some way to return to one another and remember how to be husband and wife.
Liam nodded, and perhaps it was just the hanging lights overhead playing tricks on him, but Louis could have sworn his husband’s brown eyes were glistening with tears. “Tomorrow,” the alpha spoke. “Can we make it official tomorrow?”
Make it official. The words were like a fire poker, simmering hot and startling. “Oh, yes. Of course,” Louis whispered, swallowing around the unexpected lump in his throat. Through a tight windpipe and anxious energy toiling in his gut, Louis breathed, “I would be happy to.”
Tomorrow. In less than 24 hours, Louis would don himself in beautiful undergarments, primped and plucked to perfection, laying beneath his husband with a mark inked into the flesh of his neck for the rest of eternity. Forever was a very long time and his stomach was turning itself in knots at the looming clock ticking away over his head, heart stuttering in his chest. Quick to paste a smile across his lips, Louis blinked back the sting of tears and allowed himself to be pulled into Liam’s embrace. A large hand smoothed down his back and warm dry lips pressed to his forehead—more unsettling than comforting.
For nearly two years at the start of the war, Louis had stayed up late into the night, curled up on his army cot in the mud, thinking of his husband hundreds of miles away and wishing more than anything he could be back home in his arms. For hours he would sit, twisting the simple gold band wrapped around his finger and dreaming of the day when Liam could finally make him his. The ring was a promise, a sign to the world that this omega was loved and cherished by an alpha, though Liam’s mark wasn’t there and his scent had faded over time.
Now, that ring still symbolized a commitment, a foreboding sign that Louis belonged to someone, that his future was bound to another. As they sat eating porter cake among the villagers and watched a group of school pups dancing merrily to gaelic music, Louis felt as vacant as a ghost, inhabiting the body of a stranger in a life he hardly recognized now. He sat stonily, hands clasped primly in his lap and his ankles crossed, but his mind wandered.
With Liam’s new position and their move back to London, what was his life to come to? Was he bound for a life of lonely days locked away in their flat, toiling endlessly with trivial chores and mindless busy-work to keep his mind from running itself crazy?
Beside him, Liam rested a hand on his thigh—protective, powerful, and promising. Following Liam’s softened gaze, Louis was met with the bittersweet sight of an alpha watching over his family. His arm draped around a pretty omega, a young pup perched in his lap bouncing with youthful glee as a small hand of a newborn reached up towards its mother—the picture of a perfect family. The blueprint laid out so clearly of what his own life would look like.
They would have that, likely sooner rather than later. For years Liam had spoken fondly of his own desire to have a family of his own, a legacy that he would forever be remembered for. As he looked upon the young family, Louis couldn’t help but feel out of place, wondering if he would ever make a good mother. His own had passed when he was young and though he had once fawned over the pups of his friends, he could no longer imagine himself with one. Perhaps he was too cold now, too damaged by the war, and too rough around the edges to be a good omega or a nurturing mother.
Maybe he was simply not the right kind of omega anymore.
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It was decided that the following morn the couple would wake before the sun had risen, welcoming morning in the glow of the moon to make their trip to a peculiar rock formation called Craigh na Dun before they would return to their room at the bed and breakfast to mate. Personally, Louis didn’t quite understand how watching a bunch of witches prance around in the moonlight would set the mood, but Liam had insisted that it would be romantic to watch the pagan ritual of the highlands as the sun rose on the horizon. Considering Louis still held onto his guilt for making Liam worry so much over their marriage, it was the least he could do—wrapped up in a shawl and shivering in the cool air as they crept through the woods.
“According to local folklore, the stones were carried here from Africa by a race of Celtic giants,” Liam shared excitedly in a breathy whisper, offering his hand to Louis as they climbed the hill towards the silhouette of the tall rocks illuminated only by the moon.
The rocky terrain was not an easy one to maneuver, but with Liam’s arm for assistance Louis climbed the boulders and grunted his frustrations, fisting the shawl draped over his shoulders tightly to his chest as they hiked. Of course, Liam was far too logical to believe in such fairytales as giants, fairies, or any other magical creatures that lived in the folklore of the highlands, but Louis hummed anyway. Past juniper and pines they went, higher and higher up the mountain and further from town. “I wasn’t aware the Celts made a lot of trips to Africa.”
With a laugh, Liam shrugged and glanced over his shoulder with a wry smile. “Only the giant ones.”
As they approached the looming figures of the stones, Louis turned and looked down the hill at the flickering lights aglow among the hills in the distance, no bigger than the flitting lightning bugs that lived by the pond near their home back in London. “Is that Inverness?” he asked with a tilt of his head and turned his attention to his husband.
“I believe so. It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?” Without waiting another moment, Liam smoothed back his gelled hair and continued, “We should hurry, I believe they’ll be starting any minute now and we wouldn’t want to miss the main event, now would we?”
Well, Louis wasn’t so sure about that.
Liam’s hand was warm on Louis’ lower back, his touch firm with excitement as the alpha hurried them under cover of the shrubbery, ducking beneath the branches as leaves rustled and pebbles crunched. Together, the two crouched among the long grass, peering through the whipping blades in anticipation. Beside him, Liam was practically buzzing with eager energy, like Louis imagined he had done as a pup on Christmas morning, his eyes glimmering with glee and his plump lips spread into a grin.
Looking so incredibly hopeful and young, he reminded Louis of the day they had met all those years ago. The same brown eyes, same smile, and the same passion in his gaze that he had worn in that museum in Birmingham, staring up at the statue of St. Michael. Back then, it had all seemed so easy, so simple and blissful. He missed the days of hours and hours spent on end laying on blankets in the park or lounging on Liam’s sofa listening to the man recount tales of battles won by his ancestors or the moments that changed history forever. And yet, he didn’t know if he could ever return to the way things once were.
Like ghosts floating in the mist of morning, a group of shadowed figures dressed in white draping robes emerged. As far as Louis could tell, they all seemed to be omegas, given by their slight stature and the faintly sweet smell clinging to the cool breeze. Dangling from their hands were lanterns made of copper, rhythmically swinging with every step and casting a golden glow across the stones as the omegas drew near, their pace steady and slow.
Louis watched curiously from their hidden perch amongst the crickets and reeds, his knees damp where they knelt on the cool earth covered in lush moss and his lips parting in recognition as he noticed a particular woman among the group of omegas. She and the others bowed before the rocks with sweeping gestures and began to strut, dance-like in motion as they moved around the stones with more grace than Louis could hope to possess for himself.
“Is that Mrs. Graham?” he whispered to Liam, eyes wide.
The same woman who had read Louis’ palm not twelve hours earlier was now draped in layers of fabric with a crown of laurels in her hair, twirling through the clearing with the others, oblivious to their spectators. Once so unnotable that one wouldn’t look twice at her, now the woman had come alive wrapped in airy robes and sweeping her arms to a song only she and the others seemed to be aware of.
“The Reverend's housekeeper is a witch,” Liam spoke in disbelief.
A giggle bubbled up Louis’ throat and threatened to spill past his lips. In an effort to not disturb the ritual taking place before their very eyes, Louis pressed his fingers over his playful smirk. “Not a witch, a Druid, remember?”
They should have been ridiculous, and perhaps they were, parading in circles on top of a hill. But the hairs on the back of Louis’ neck prickled at the sight, and some small voice inside him warned him that he wasn’t supposed to be there. He was an unwelcome voyeur to something ancient and powerful.
The omegas pranced, skirts and robes twirling gracefully with their arms outstretched and lanterns glowing in the beautiful dance. For what seemed like hours, Louis and Liam watched the spectacle, huddled close to one another to keep the chill of dawn at bay. They watched until the sun rose and Louis’ knees and thighs ached from crouching. He was positively spellbound by the spectacle, his breath catching in his throat as he watched in awe. They moved so fluidly it was as if they were being carried on the wind or had the spirit of water pulling them to and fro in a hypnotic, enchanting dance of yore.
Like something out of a mythical storybook, the impassioned omegas held their lanterns to the tallest rock in the center just as the sun crested, washing them with orange and pink light filtering through the pines. Time felt different up on that hill. It had seemed like ages that Louis crouched there in the moss, shivering in his shawl and light linen clothing with Liam by his side, but it also seemed as though he had blinked and when he opened his eyes it was all over. As quickly as they had appeared, the eight figures bent over their lanterns in unison and blew out the flames, a shiver running down Louis’ spine with their hushed whispers that could not reach his ears. The wind whistled, cutting through every layer of clothing Louis wore as a chill set into his bones, and the omegas disappeared among the lingering smoke back the way they had come.
Louis exhaled shakily against his chilly fingers, feeling rather unsettled as the last omega slipped into the cover of the alders and hawthorn. In their place remained only the whispering of branches groaning overhead and a white fog from candles burnt out, eerily creeping through the stones. The scene was spooky to be sure, reminding him of battlefields strewn with men too far gone for him to help and his only company lying in the mud, breathing in gunsmoke and death. With a strange void that left him rattled and shaken to his core, Louis picked himself up on trembling knees from his stoop, heart hammering in his chest.
“That was incredible,” Liam murmured. His loafers squelched in the mud as he stepped into the clearing and looked to the horizon, a faint smile on his lips. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it.”
Neither had Louis. The closest he had seen was the ballet performance of Liam’s younger siblings back in London, but even that paled in comparison and didn’t hold the same eeriness as the ancient ritual they had just bore witness to. “Yes,” whispered the omega, brushing the dirt from his palms, “beautiful.”
The stillness of the woods sent a tingle down Louis’ spine as they neared the stones, craning his neck as he looked up at them in awe, something about the foreboding, looming stature of them cutting through his curiosity. Behind him, Liam’s own footsteps quietly crunched through pebbles as the alpha examined the stones, his wonder written in the pinch of his brow and the glint in his eye. Liam must have been having a million thoughts a minute, all bouncing around in that academic mind of his—noting their shape and cataloging every crack, bump, and every inch of moss covering those stones, taking mental notes for his lectures at the university.
It was Liam’s mind that Louis had fallen in love when they had first met, intrigued by an alpha who cared more about knowledge and books than shows of masculinity. His alpha was different, choosing to read books or study ancient texts than to ever find himself on a hunt or prowling a local pub. His sweater vests, creased slacks, and shiny loafers had endeared Louis terribly, his gentle soul such a contrast to brashness of other alphas. But Liam always did seem to get so inside his own head that he didn’t often sit and marvel at things, too serious and his mind too active to enjoy simply taking in the sights and sounds. There was always an interesting anecdote or an excerpt from an ancient text on his lips, forever a scholar.
As Louis wrapped himself tighter in his shawl and admired the ancient landmark, the winds swept along the grass and sent leaves from the oaks floating on its coattails. It whistled and wailed, drawing a curious Louis closer as he crept towards the center rock. He couldn’t explain it, but he felt compelled, as if someone else had taken control of his hands and lifted them to touch the foreboding mossy surface.
He had once fallen asleep in the passenger seat of a moving car, lulled by the noise and steady motion into an illusion of serene weightlessness, his head tipped back against the headrest of the seat. Then his driver had taken a bridge too fast and the screech of rubber on wet cement was enough to send a chill straight down your spine. He awoke to see the world spinning outside the car windows and was immediately filled with the sickening sensation of falling at high speed. That is as close as Louis could come to describing what he experienced that morning at Craigh na Dun, but it still fell woefully short.
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