Archive of Our Own

Chapter Text

They left Achnacarry early the following morning, when the skies were not yet ablaze with the colors of dawn and not even the rooster had stirred from his slumber. It was far too early for any normal person to be awake, much less traipsing through the woods on the back of a horse, but Louis didn’t have much of a choice. Dougal had insisted they get a move on and that they had already delayed their departure far more than they should have, with half the campaign to collect the landowner taxes still awaiting them. Apparently after one day of being mated, you were no longer considered newlyweds. So Harry had roused him from his sleep with a kiss on the cheek and a warm cup of tea, whispering his apologies for waking the omega so early.

All day their group rode along the river, laughing and telling their usual jokes and ridiculous stories. This time it felt different. Now, it felt like the men fully accepted him as theirs, including him in their conversations and even teasing him for the noises he had made the night prior with Harry in their bed. He could tell that the comments still annoyed the alpha, but to Louis, they were a sign that he was initiated into the clan MacKenzie. He was one of them now. 

He’d noticed a switch in Dougal as well, though far less subtle. Ever since Louis had stepped up for that omega in the streets and thrown himself into the captain’s way, Dougal had seemed to finally acknowledge that perhaps this entire time Louis was not actually a spy. It was annoying and still grated on his nerves, but Louis was more than ready to put the whole thing behind him. He was ready to let it all go, to move on from the whole thing and begin his life anew.

That night they stopped amidst a quiet grove of trees, tying their horses to their wagons and setting about to make a fire. As usual, Louis volunteered himself for gathering the sticks and wood needed, but this time Harry did not go with the other men to hunt dinner for the night. Rather, he stayed behind to watch over his new mate and insisted on stepping in anytime Louis attempted to lift something that might be heavier than just a few stones. It was mildly annoying but mostly flattering.

When the sun dipped below the horizon and the crickets awoke from their hibernation, the men trickled in one by one like bees returning to their hive, their jovial laughter following in their footsteps. Louis felt like a bit of a mother hen, handing out portions of the rabbit Murtagh had caught for them and pestering Niall and Angus to save some scotch for the rest of them. It felt like home.

After a day’s worth of being sat astride a horse, bumping along the rugged woodland paths, his arse was absolutely killing him. Maybe he shouldn’t have let Harry rail him that one last time before they left that morning, as his backside was aching something terrible, but how could he not willingly open himself up to a man like his husband? With a tired smile, Louis allowed for said husband to gently guide him towards their bedrolls. 

“Come here, sweet lass. You look exhausted,” Harry murmured, whiskey and sage only serving to melt the remaining traces of strength he had left. 

Louis went easily, blinking sleepily as he rubbed his fist over his eyes. From his pack, he pulled the blanket Harry had scented days ago that had been draped over their bed for the last few days, and bunched it up to use as a pillow—the closest thing he’d be able to make to a nest given their circumstances. He looked forward to finding someplace to stay for a few days when his heat kicked in, giving them plenty of time and privacy for him to craft the perfect nest to spend it in and the space to continue to get to know his husband. 

He could feel Harry watching him fondly, a weight to his gaze as he tucked the blanket perfectly into place. He knew that look, instantly recognizing the softness that Harry had upon distinguishing that the omega was curating a makeshift nest. “It’s not very good,” Louis acknowledged, skin itching with the desire to make it better, but unable to do so. 

Harry hummed and shook his head. “No, pup. It’s lovely,” he assured. 

It wasn’t, Louis was aware of that, but it still felt nice to hear Harry say that it was. His mate sat with his legs spread out in front of him, the space between his thighs calling to Louis, beckoning him to tuck himself into his embrace. Wordlessly, Louis did so, and immediately felt the warmth and safety that only Harry’s arms could offer him, sheltering him from the cold wind. 

After a long day of uncomfortable riding on the back of a horse, nothing felt better than to lay down with his head pillowed on Harry’s chest and thick arms wrapped around him, blanketing him in the pleasant scent. Louis stretched his legs out within the bracket of Harry’s and looked down at his cold hands, his rings catching in the low light of the fire. One ring on each hand, one made of brass and the other of gold. One given to him by a man he no longer loved and the other from a near stranger with whom his heart had grown attached to.

Across the fire, Niall and Angus were drinking from their flasks with eager pulls, scotch shining on their lips and a drunken buzz flushing over their cheeks. Though they’d only been back from the hunt for a short time, they were already clearly tipsy with drink and Louis was beginning to think that these men were never truly fully sober. 

Niall laughed loudly, spittle and scotch flying from his lips as he threw his head back and slapped his knee at whatever story Angus had told whilst Louis was distracted. “Angus, that’s not how the story goes at all, you’re right full of shite,” he cackled.

“Am not!” Angus snarled, glaring at his best friend with fire in his eyes. “I’m tellin’ you that’s exactly the story my ma used to tell!”

“Then your ma is just as crooked in the head as you are.”

In a clatter of tin and flash of blades, Angus leapt to his feet and pointed his sword at Niall. “Keep my mother’s name off yer drunken lips, ye hear me? I’ll cut your tongue out just for saying such a thing!” he growled, and Niall only rolled his eyes, taking no offense by his friend’s words.

“Sit down, Angus,” he laughed and waved his hand dismissively. “And I’ll tell ye the real story of the Doomed Rider.”

Harry’s lips brushed over the shell of Louis’ ear as he leaned in closer, his breath tickling the back of his neck and cloaking them both in his rich scent. “Have you ever heard the story of the Doomed Rider, Sassenach?” When Louis shook his head, the alpha hummed and rested his chin on the omega’s shoulder. “‘Tis a well known tale we tell the children as a warning to stay away from the river’s edge. Many a mother here in the highlands has told a tale similar to their pups, or some variation of it.”

“The Conan is as bonny a river as we have in the north country,” Niall began, his Scottish tongue even thicker with booze in his blood and the tales of old on his lips. “It’s none of your wild streams that wander desolate through a desert country, like the Aven, or that come rushing down in foam and thunder, over broken rocks, like the Foyers, or that wallow in darkness, deep, deep in the bowels of the earth, like the fearful Auldgraunt. And yet not a one of these rivers has greater or more frightful stories connected with it than the Conan.”

Louis loved a good ghost story, something to send a thrill down his spine and unsettling his stomach as adrenaline and wonder coursed through him. He settled in, giving his rapt attention to the beta across the fire from him, smiling as he listened to the Scot spin his wild tale. 

“You can hardly follow it half a mile from where it leaves Contin to where it enters the sea without passing over the scene of some frightful Auld legend of the kelpie or the waterwraith. And one of the most terrifying of these places is to be found among the woods of Conan House. You enter a swampy meadow where the rushes wave like a cornfield in harvest, and see a hill covered with willows rising like an island in the midst with thick, dark woods on either side. The river, dark and mysterious, whirls round and around in tide pools and sweeps away behind it. At the very top of that hill is an ancient Auld burial ground with the broken ruins of an old church.”

Like many Scots, Niall was a fantastic storyteller. His voice changed, ebbing and flowing with his story as he enraptured Louis in his tale, capturing his attention and playing at his mind with the eerie tone of his voice. The beta smirked, sipping from his canteen as he stared at the fire. “Some Highlanders were busy one day harvesting the corn in that field that grew around the old church ruins, toiling away in the sea of wheat and rush. At noon, when the sun shone brightest and the men were at their busiest, they heard a voice from the river cry out. Do you know what they said?”

Louis found himself shaking his head, eyes wide and lip tucked between his teeth as he listened closely. Harry’s chest shook with his low chuckle and his nose nuzzled against the crown of Louis’ head, lips pressed into a smile as he tangled their fingers together and stroked his thumb over the back of the omega’s knuckles. 

“‘The hour but not the man has come,’” whispered the Scot, half of his face hidden in the shadows of night. “When the Highlanders looked, they saw a kelpie standing on what they call a false ford, just in front of the old church. There was a deep, black pool both above and below, but on the ford there was a ripple that showed, as you might have thought, shallow water. And just in the middle of that stood the kelpie. Again it cried, ‘The hour but not the man has come.’ Then, flashing through the water like a drake, it vanished into the lower pool. Now, the folk were standing, wonderin’ what the creature might have meant when they saw a horseman riding down the hill in haste, making straight for the false ford. Oh, then the men came to understand the kelpie’s cryptic message.”

As taken with Niall’s words as Louis was, he still felt the body behind him tense, though not at the story. In the shadows their horses nickered, their hooves shifting on the soft ground of the forest with unease and in kind, Harry’s own mood shifted just as suddenly. 

“What is it?” he whispered quietly, a frown tugging his lips downwards.

With a press of his lips to the omega’s temple, Harry slowly reached for his sword. “The horses, they’re restless,” he whispered against Louis’ skin, his breath coming out in hot puffs of air. “Someone’s near.”

Instantly, Louis’ eyes went wide and his heart skipped a beat in his chest. “Where?” He moved to sit up, to ready himself in case he needed to fight, but Harry’s arm tightened around his waist, keeping him in place.

“Don’t move. We all know.”

Around the fire, one by one, Louis watched the men slowly reach for their weapons, as nonchalant and casual as can be whilst wrapping their hands around the handles of their blades and easing their pistols from their holsters. 

All the while, Niall never stopped once in the midst of his story, keeping his gaze on the fire while Dougal nodded subtly. “Four of the strongest among them sprang from the com to warn the rider of his danger. They told him what they had seen and heard and urged him to turn back and take another road—or stay for an hour where he was. But he would not listen to them and would have taken the ford in spite of them, had the Highlanders, determined to save him whether he would or no, not gathered round him and pulled him from his horse. Then, for the sake of his own safety, they locked him in the old church.”

“Do you see that fallen tree?” Harry asked, only air behind his voice as he kissed the mark branding Louis’ neck, waiting for the omega to nod. When he did, the alpha continued, “When I tell you to, go to it and don’t move.” The coarse whiskers lining Harry’s upper lip and chin tickled against Louis’ flesh, his heart beating rapidly beneath the lips of his mate. As he leaned in and kissed the boy gently, Harry used the act of affection to sneak a blade into Louis’ hand. “Take this.”

“When the hour had passed, the fatal hour of the kelpie, they flung the church door open and called out that he could now continue on his journey. But there was no answer. Then they went in and found the rider lying stiff and cold on the floor, his face resting in the water of the stone trough that still stands among the ruins. His hour had come, and he had fallen in a fit, head-foremost, into the trough.” Niall licked his lips and carefully set down his flask, the only sign that something was about to happen as he took a deep breath. “And there he had drowned.”

Out of the corner of Louis’ eye, he saw Murtagh dip his head, and then it all happened at once. 

“Go!”

Louis lurched to his feet as Harry’s hands pushed against his lower back, shoving him forward with enough force to give him a good head start. He nearly fell face forward but caught himself as the alphas and betas of his group shot up, clutching their weapons readily. The omega’s heavy skirt and uncomfortable shoes slowed him down as he made a run for the fallen tree, but he couldn’t stop to kick them off; his only choice was to run even harder, away from the sound of men shouting. He did not turn to look, unable to risk losing his footing, but he could certainly hear the commotion and clash of metal on metal behind him.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins and panic lodged in his throat, Louis threw himself to his knees and landed so hard that his teeth clacked loudly as he scrambled beneath the protection that the fallen tree could offer him. Twigs and pine needles scratched at his palms and scraped up his knees, but he climbed through the claw-like branches and hunkered down amidst the tangles of sticks and branches, peering through the dead leaves in shock.

Even through the cloak of darkness, Louis could just barely make out the garish shade of red that had come to strike fear in his heart. The faces of the men wearing it were obscured in the dead of night, but there had to have been at least six of them, maybe seven, carrying swords and bayonets. No good could come of this. Although Louis was legally saved from the wrath of the British with his recent marriage, that didn’t mean that any of them would truly be spared. If there was anything Louis had come to know it was that the Redcoats very rarely played by the rules.

Louis’ eyes searched for the tall and broad figure of his husband, hands trembling and chest heaving with labored breaths as he tried to calm the anxious beating of his heart against his ribcage. Through the mist, Louis could just make out Niall and Angus beside the flickering flame of the fire. Angus was grinning like a mad man as he easily parried the swings of a British Corporal while Niall yelled loudly and swung his sword in a gleaming arc of metal. Just past the two betas was Murtagh and Dougal, each with a Redcoat of their own to worry about. But Louis couldn’t seem to spot the familiar frame of his mate, sending nerves shooting down his arms and tingling in his fingertips. 

Where was Harry?

He wondered if maybe Harry was hiding too, if he had decided to remain hidden, lest he be spotted and reported to the Captain of Dragoons. But he knew Harry wasn’t the kind of man who would allow his kin, his clan, his brothers-in-arms to go to battle without him. He was stubborn that way, putting all others before himself, as much as that scared Louis. With wide eyes, Louis’ gaze flicked back and forth, squinting into the darkness. The men looked like mere specters from his hiding place, nothing more than shadowed figures lunging through billowing plumes of fog. 

When he spotted a head of curly hair emerge from the darkness, he sucked in a sharp breath, teeth clamping down on his bottom lip so hard he tasted the bitter iron of blood on his tongue. Louis couldn’t tear his gaze away from the scene. Fear of Harry getting hurt, killed, or even worse, captured, filled his every thought. 

Harry couldn’t get caught. He simply couldn’t.

Louis knew that if he did, the outcome would be far worse than any horror the omega could possibly come up with. The thoughts spun and whirled through his mind, tormenting him with the endless question ‘what if?’ A million things could go wrong. He could get lost or lose sight of his companions, he could watch Harry get sliced open from the blade of a sword, or he could even lose Harry if he wasn’t careful.

He could only stand by and witness his mate move with a fluidity and gracefulness that one would never expect from an alpha, darting through the hoard of soldiers and ducking attacks left and right. If Louis wasn’t so preoccupied with being terrified that his husband would get hurt he may even have been impressed. He’d never felt so useless and powerless in his life as he did stuck by the sidelines without the ability to even attempt to warn his companions as two more soldiers came barreling down the hills with swords at the ready. 

But Louis needn’t worry, not when Murtagh turned and fired his weapons, blasting one of the men in the chest and knocking him right over with the velocity of the shot. William, one of the other men who had joined the campaign but kept his distance from Louis, took care of the other Redcoat with a long blade driven clean through the gut with a victorious howl.

The brutality of the fight was nothing new to Louis. In fact, he’d seen much worse before, but he’d grown attached to the Scots. They were his friends and even his family. It wasn’t easy to watch. Louis was frozen in place, his heart pounding in his chest and blood rushing in his ears as he stared at the mess taking place only thirty paces away. One particularly large alpha charged right at Harry, the growl he emitted making Louis shiver and wince at the abrasive sound. 

To his horror, the Redcoat was just fast enough to take Harry by surprise, the whites of his mate’s eyes visible even from where Louis hid as he was tackled to the ground.

“No!” Louis screeched. His instincts took over as he scrambled out from beneath the tangled limbs of the tree. He hadn’t a damn clue what he was doing, only knowing that every bone in his body and ounce of his blood screamed at him to help his mate. 

He didn’t even make it two yards when a sharp pain bloomed over the back of his head, his brain feeling as though it had ricocheted right off the inside of his skull. And then he was falling. 

With a pained yelp and his eyes wide in panic, Louis’ mouth opened and closed in surprise. In his pain the world around him grew hazy and a bit blurry. He could no longer distinguish one man from the next, nor could he see what had hit him, he only knew that something warm and wet was dripping down the back of his neck and that he was no longer standing on his own two feet.

‘You’re in shock’ he told himself, blinking in confusion as he sucked in a lungful of air. Whatever had struck him had left him with an immediate headache that pulsed and pounded in his skull, his gaze unfocused and his skin instantly feeling clammy. ‘ Deep breaths. Focus on what you feel.’

One by one, Louis quickly assessed his limbs. He felt no pain in his legs or arms and he was almost positive that he’d not been hit by a blade. Only his back was twinging with pain and his head felt like it had exploded. ‘ Just a head injury.’  

A rough hand gripped the hair at the back of his head, not far from where he’d been hit, and yanked. 

“Ahh—” Louis winced, gritting his teeth as his head was forced up, and his breath hitched. 

“And what do we have here?”

The voice sent a shock ripping through his body, recognition instantly setting in as his eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Louis scrambled to his feet, panic creeping up his throat as he stared over his shoulder into the face of absolute evil and corruption.

“Get your God damn bloody hands off me,” the omega hissed, writhing in the grip still holding tightly to the hair on the back of his head, undoubtedly ripping chunks out.

Captain Black Jack Payne smirked down at him with amusement in his gaze and a hatred in his wry smile that could inspire even the most resilient of men to run for the hills. But Louis stood his ground, nostrils flaring and fire burning in his heart. “Solicitations and congratulations on your recent marriage,” hummed the captain with a darkness seeping through his every word, like the devil himself was speaking through the lips that Louis once had known so well. 

“Let go of me—”

“Ah-ah-ah,” Captain Payne sang, waving a dagger in Louis’ face. “I have unfinished business with you, Mistress Tomlinson.”

Louis was not a naive person. He had no false beliefs that he would ever be a match for a military alpha with as much training and combat experience as this man, no idiodic sense of bravery that would compel him to even attempt to fight off this alpha—even if a part of him wished he could. He had no upper hand, no leg up on this man. The only thing he could do was scream and hope that someone could come to his rescue. “Harry!”  

A demonic, animalist growl sounded from the beast behind him as Captain Payne yanked on his hair, tugged his head back until his neck craned as far as it could go and his throat was exposed to the blade gripped in the alpha’s hand. “You never know when to fucking shut up, do you?” he hissed. 

Normally so ready with a clever quip or nasty curse word to spew into the face of any man, Louis could only swallow thickly, his fear and pain catching in his throat as he stared up at the captain. His breath hitched in his lungs with the first drag of the cool metal against the exposed column of his neck, heartbeat racing. 

For a mere moment, he and Black Jack Payne stared at one another, as if for the first time seeing straight into the soul of the other. Louis hadn’t a clue what that alpha saw in him, but he knew what he saw when he looked at the alpha. He saw a twisted man, one so burdened by the horrors he had not only seen but committed that no drop of humanity remained within him. He was no man at all. He was only a monster.

The wind shifted and on it the traces of whiskey and sweet sage had both Louis and Captain Payne turning away from one another in shock. “I’ll thank ye to take your hands off my wife,” Harry growled, the words grit from clenched teeth and his chest heaving with anger Louis had never seen from the alpha. He looked possessed, his nostrils flared, teeth bared, and the timbre of his voice practically shaking the ground beneath their feet.

“Good God,” the captain laughed, eyes aglow with delight as he looked upon the alpha he had not seen in years but could never forget. He hardly spared a glance at the omega, only gripped his hair more tightly in his fist, and gazed in awe at Harry. “Dougal MacKenzie neglected to mention that you married the stripe-backed thief. How’s my handiwork looking these days?”

Louis ached to run to Harry. He wished to grab his hand and make a run for it, to escape from all of this and find peace for once. Jaw clenched and pistol aimed at Black Jack Payne’s head, Harry’ mouth twitched downward. “Very well. Despite your best efforts.”

“I don’t suppose you’d show me?” The captain didn’t look one bit intimidated or afraid, rather in awe of the man aiming a weapon right at his head. 

“It’d be the last thing you ever saw.”

“Well,” Captain Payne chuckled lowly, licking his lips as he slid the blade of his dagger down Louis’ throat to the mark on his neck. It was a threat: come any closer and I’ll take your mate. He hummed and smirked, shadows dancing over his face. “Only risk brings the possibility of reward, hmm?”

“Harry—” Louis whimpered, his scent souring as a single drop of blood trickled down his neck from the tip of the dagger.

“I said unhand him or I’ll shoot you myself!” bellowed the alpha. Despite the confidence and steadfast determination set in his gaze, Louis knew he was nervous. He could see it in the way his eyes ever so subtly flicked between two of the people who had influenced his life the most. One who had scarred him and tried to take everything from him and one who had given everything he could. “I’ll warn you I have an exceptional aim.”

Louis would love to see this man die. Nothing would please him more than to see the one person who had wreaked so much havoc and inflicted so much pain on the innocent highlanders brought to a swift end. But what of Liam? Would he still be born if this man, his ancestor who bore the same face as his descendent, were to die a bloody death in the middle of nowhere?

Could he bear the thought of the man with whom he had developed feelings for preventing the birth of his first husband—arguably his real husband—or would it weigh on him, forever plaguing his thoughts that he had allowed Harry to essentially kill Liam?

“Harry, don’t!” Louis blurted out, wincing when the tip of the blade dug deeper into his throat. “Don’t kill him. Wound him if you must, but please don’t kill him!”

He had Liam to think about. Harry could not kill Liam.

Harry’s brows furrowed, a small crease forming in the center of his forehead as the frown he wore deepened. Who could blame him though? Here was his omega, held at knifepoint begging for him to save the life of the man who had hurt so many people. 

“Don’t do it,” Louis demanded, doing his best to keep his lower lip from trembling and attempting to sound much more confident and sure of himself than he felt. “If you care about me at all, you’ll listen to me.”

A noise akin to a snort sounded next to Louis’ ear, the stench of the alpha clawing at his nostrils and churning in his gut as the captain sneered, “Oh, first he tells you to come now he tells you to flee? Who’s the alpha in this marriage, Styles?”

God, Louis was so fucking tired. He was sick and tired of this man and his deeply sewn misogyny, his hatred for all omegas, and the sick, twisted darkness that lived within him. Most of all, he was really damn tired of this man ruining everything. “I’ll cut off your balls, I swear to God,” he spat, writhing in his grip in one more attempt to make a break for freedom. But his efforts were to no avail.

Captain Payne clamped his hand over Louis’ mouth and squeezed, pushing Louis’ lips into a fish-mouth as he growled low and threateningly into his ear, “You are a foulmouthed scold. For the life of me, I cannot understand why any man would pledge himself to an omega, especially such a mendacious slut as this one.” Sick gurgled in Louis’ throat and his stomach clenched, dread settling in when the captain dragged the tip of his knife down his chest. 

God, he wanted to puke, his face twisting up as that knife caressing his collarbones slipped beneath the ribbon holding Louis’ corset together. A twisted, deviant laugh bubbled at the lips of the man holding the knife. “What do you think, Mistress Styles? Would you like your husband to join us maybe? What do you say, Styles? Or do you like to watch?” He hummed to himself and ripped the sharp edge of the knife through the remaining ties of Louis’ corset in one swipe, ripping the cloth covering Louis’ torso, leaving his chest covered in love bites and his pert nipples bare to the world as Harry lunged forward.  

“Harry no!” Louis screamed, his heart leaping into his throat and his blood turning to ice in his veins. He watched in horror as his mate’s eyes went dark and his lips turned to an ugly snarl, looking nothing like the man he had quickly begun to fall for. 

Blood splashed across Louis’ face, warm and wet and sticky as it sprayed over his lips and clung to his skin. Iron, death, and misery filled the air with its putrid odor as Louis looked down at his trembling hands. Blood. All he saw was blood. It was everywhere, staining his clothes and covering his hands as he trembled and quivered like a leaf in the wind. “Don’t,” he whispered, tears falling as he looked at the crumpled body at his feet. “Please.”

≻⊱⌘⊰≺

Gravel crunched beneath Louis’ feet and skittered across the road, dust lingering in the air in plumes behind them with every step through Tomdoun. There was a pebble in Louis’ shoe, he could feel it pinching against his toes and poking at the bottom of his foot, but he didn’t stop to fix it. It was a reminder, something to keep his mind distracted from the pain rattling Louis’ bones to focus on the much smaller annoyance of the pebble. He focused on that pebble for hours as he walked, his arms wrapped around himself to keep out the chill, his gaze unfocused and hazy.

Even after stopping to rinse himself in the river, the stench of blood clung to his flesh and the lingering feeling of being covered in it remained. 

There had been a night years ago, long before Louis ever came to Inverness and met the Scots, that Louis would never forget as the bloodiest night of his life. A troop of their men had crept behind enemy lines in Belgium, hoping to sneak their way around Brussels with the mission of retrieving prisoners of war to return them home. Louis had volunteered to go with, to care for the soldiers with injuries too great to survive the trip home and try to keep them alive long enough to get them to a proper hospital. 

On that night all those years ago, their group had been found by enemy soldiers and so many shots had been fired that Louis had burst an eardrum. For what felt like days, the booming pops of machine gun fire echoed in his ears and shook him to his very core as he ran through heavy smog and rubble, bandaging his soldiers and doing his best to simply keep them alive. 

The next morning, when the gunfire ceased and the smoke had settled, he realized the magnitude of the fight from the night prior. They had lost nearly half of their men, bodies strewn amongst the wreckage and blood pooling on the concrete and splashed over the stone exteriors of the abandoned buildings. It had stained his clothes for weeks and caked beneath his nails, covering his arms up to his elbows and smeared over his face. He reeked of blood and lost lives, the smell covering up his pheromones more than any blockers or suppressants ever could. 

It was an odd feeling, but with his skin painted red and his scent masked he almost didn’t even feel like an omega anymore. He was but a lost soul, fighting for his life and that of his comrades in the middle of Belgium, surrounded by their enemies.

Although the fight between his beloved Scots and his countrymen was not nearly as bloody as that night in Brussels, he felt haunted by it in the same way. In a daze, he trudged through the woods and along the gravel road, listening to wheels roll over the rocky terrain and the low chatter of men, a heaviness to their voices. There was no laughter this time. No teasing jibes, nor crude jokes, nor wide grins were to be found amongst the men as they slowly made their way through town. 

They could all feel the tension in the air surrounding them, the emotional strain of last night taking more than just a physical toll on the omega; his spirits were weighed down and his nerves heightened. He trudged behind their fearless warchief, worrying at his bottom lip and blatantly ignoring the nagging knowledge that he had screwed everything up. He couldn’t deny that it was all his fault. If it weren’t for him, they wouldn’t have lost two good men last night, and Angus wouldn’t be laying in the back of the wagon with a bandage around his waist and a nasty gash in his leg. If it weren’t for what he had done, he wouldn’t be feeling like part of himself was lost.

Louis silently followed their men to the only inn of Tomdoun, guilt brewing in his gut when Niall and Murtagh hauled the unconscious Angus from the back of the wagon and brought the beta inside. Angus would be fine, just a bit tired and uncomfortable for the next few days, but he still felt terrible for being the cause of it.

“Don’t ye worry yourself about ‘ol Angus, lass,” Niall grunted, rolling his eyes as his best friend’s arm flopped over his shoulder, making it more difficult to deposit him on one of the empty beds. “If anything he’ll be thanking you come morning for the impressive scars he’s going to have.”

Murtagh chuckled and patted the omega on the back. “Aye, he’s going to be miserable to deal with, I’d bet my left bollock that by the time we get home he’ll have a completely fabricated version of what happened to impress all the lasses with at Leoch.”

Murtagh, Niall, even Dougal and Angus might forgive him for what had happened, but he knew that not everyone would be so easy on him. He was the one who had gotten himself into trouble, who’d made Harry run to his rescue, and distracted the men. If he’d only stayed hidden, maybe William and Jennings would still be alive and spared the death of a soldier at the tip of a blade.

It wasn’t until he was in the privacy of the small room nestled in the corner of the inn that Louis finally turned to the man he had let down most. Anger and bitterness tinged the stuffy air of that small room, suffocatingly thick, and from the flickering jaw muscle, he could guess that he was not going to be easily pardoned.

“Harry—” Louis murmured, his insides squirming when Harry cut him off with a single look. He was mad, there was no doubt about that, but what broke his heart even more than having his mate be upset with him was the look of betrayal and hurt that was stronger than any feelings of resentment that Louis would have expected from him.

Swallowing thickly, Louis clutched his shawl around his shoulders, feeling so very small—hunched in on himself as he averted his gaze to the bloodied hem of his dress. How had he managed to screw things up so bad? He had only been trying to do the right thing, or at least what he thought was the right thing. 

“Please, Harry. I’m so s—”

“Not another word, Louis,” Harry growled, his hand shaking with his pain or anger, or maybe a bit of both. When he looked at Louis it was with sharp eyes and brows pulled into a tense line. “You’ve done enough.”

There was something about it, maybe it was the degrading sneer tugging on his lips or the momentary look of what Louis could only think to describe as distaste, but whatever it was, it struck a chord in him. Harry did not get to look at him like that. Harry didn’t get to hate him for what he had done and he certainly didn’t get to pass judgment on him without knowing all the facts. 

“Excuse you?” he asked through gritted teeth, aggravation simmering beneath his skin. Being told to be quiet or stop being ‘so much’ was something Louis had gotten often when he was a younger omega, constantly being portrayed as the disobedient, obnoxious, and strong-willed boy with an attitude problem. He liked Harry, hell he liked him a lot, but there wasn’t a single person he would accept being talked to like that from.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair and rubbed his palms over his eyes, a deep rumble vibrating in his chest. “You never fucking listen to me, Louis!” Finally, that wall of self-control that Harry had managed to build came crumbling down as he spun on his heel and stomped over to Louis, his nostrils flaring. “You are my wife and my omega, but you never listen!”

“I never listen? What the fuck are you on about? I thought you were in trouble and I came running to help you!” Any hopes of this conversation being calm had flown out the door the moment Harry had insinuated that it was Louis who must bend at the alpha’s will. With his hands on his hips, Louis glared up at the alpha towering over him. “I know that it’s my fault, but—”

“No! You don’t know!” Harry bellowed. His jaw clenched and unclenched, lip curling as he shook his head and backed away from Louis only to change his mind and stalk back over to the omega. “I told ye not to move, but did you obey me? Of bloody course not!”

And then Louis saw red.

Like a teapot coming to boil, he screeched and swung his fist, lashing out in anger at the one man who he felt a soul connection with. Before it could make contact, Harry’s hand caught him by the wrist, but it was too late. Ugly, fat tears were already rolling down Louis’ cheeks as he tried to rip his hand from Harry's grasp. “I’m not your property, nor am I your child. I do not have to obey you. Do you want me to say that I’m sorry? Is that what you wish to hear? That I’m sorry I wasn’t a good omega and I’m sorry that I didn’t sit idly by while my friends fought for our lives?”

“I’m not mad about that!” Harry yelled in exasperation. “He was mine to kill, Louis! That man has mutilated and taken more from me than you’ll ever know. He violated me, cut me to the bone, and left me for fucking dead. You defended a monster. You defended the one man in this world that I’ll never be able to forgive.”

Harry’s chest heaved, his nostrils flaring as he breathed heavily and their scents a whirling pool of sour, bitter fury. The alpha shook his head as he huffed, irritation evident in the line of jaw sharply setting itself. “I’m mad because you put yourself and others in danger because you couldn’t listen to me for one second.”

“I am sorry that people got hurt, I really am and it damn near kills me to see the people I care about lying dead in the grass! I know that it’s all my fault that William and Jennings are dead. I know that because of me, Angus got torn open and mutilated!” Despite his anger, the edge of Harry’s embitterment softened with each of Louis’ sobbed words. 

At first Louis struggled against the hands wrapped around his wrist, fighting against the tight grip of his mate. He was mad at Harry, mad at the world, and even more so mad at himself. Waves of emotion raged within him, pummeling him and tugging him on the current of his own hysteria as he smacked Harry’s chest pitifully.

Louis was done. He was tired. He wasn’t going to do this anymore—he couldn’t.

“I’m sorry, okay? I’m sorry I’ve come into your life like this and I’m sorry I’ve made such a mess of it.” Rushing emotions of loss, relief, sorrow, and realization stung like acid in a cut as tears flooded his cheeks, a hiccupped, strangled sob leaving his lips as he feebly hit Harry’s chest over and over. “I’m fucking sorry.”

He was too weak to protest when a pair of strong, muscled arms wrapped around him, keeping him from hitting Harry any longer as the alpha pulled Louis into his chest. He didn’t want to, but Louis melted into the embrace, trembling as his husband put aside his own animosity in favor of caring for his mate. “Shh,” the voice murmured with a heavy sigh, breath tickling down Louis’ neck. “I’ve got you, pup.”

But did he? Harry knew only the parts of Louis that he had allowed him to see, shielded from the whole truth out of fear that this man would think him to be insane. Louis was in shock, any and all rationality that he had once so proudly possessed seeping out of him with every teardrop that rolled down his cheek. He should be grateful that he was for the most part unharmed. He should have been jumping for joy that his mate was alive and well, cradling him close and pressing kisses to his temple, but he couldn’t. 

Not when he felt as though he were being crushed beneath the weight of his own secrets.

The stubborn part of Louis was almost disappointed when Harry didn’t push him further, the urge to be right, to show the alpha that he was wrong rearing its ugly head. But Harry didn’t, instead he murmured softly into the bloodstains dried on Louis’ forehead and whispered apologies of his own into their quiet room. His mate gently caressed the omega’s bruised arms and caringly groomed the younger man by licking over his skin and scenting him.

As Harry’s own rage subsided, so too did Louis’. It was by no choice of Louis’ own, rather an unseen force that drove his instincts to find solace in his mate. If Harry could be calm then Louis could too. He sat numbly as the man guided him towards the bathroom and stood with his hands limply hanging by his sides as crimson blood and mud was wiped from his flesh, silence hanging between them.

They didn’t speak about it as they readied themselves for bed that night, both longing for answers from the other but neither knowing how to ask the question. 

The dress that the captain had sliced open lay in a muddy, bloodstained heap at the foot of the bed, never to be worn again by the omega, and he gladly accepted the loose shirt Harry offered to him to wear instead, the material hanging halfway to his knees as he crawled into bed. Side by side he and Harry laid, not an inch of skin touching as they stared at the ceiling. Unsure if Harry could hear the thumping of his pulse or the breaking of his heart, Louis closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

Harry deserved to know.

“Harry?” he whispered, his voice wavering in the dark of night. “I have something to tell you.”

Sheets rustled and the bed shifted under the alpha’s weight as he turned his body, the only sign that he was even awake was a quiet sniffle cutting through the tension. He deserved the truth.

“I knew who Jack Payne was long before I found you. I knew that he lived and served in the highlands, and I knew of the title he had earned himself before I ever heard it from Dougal. I know about the Bonnie Prince and the Jacobites and the doomed cause. I know what’s going to happen to the Scots,” he whispered, lower lip wobbling as he revealed the truth. “There will be a battle between the English and the Scots and it doesn’t turn out well. It will mark the end of Highlander life as they know it.”

Pushing on, Louis breathed in a shaken breath and blinked against the tears prickling at his eyes. “I know about Culloden because I was there. I saw the graves, my husband showed them to me. I know all of this because I’m not the omega you think I am. I’m not from Scotland and I’m not from eighteenth century England and my husband is not dead. I was born on December the 24th in the year 1918.”

He waited, holding his breath in anticipation of Harry’s denial. But he said nothing. For two long minutes, Louis remained silent, expecting for his mate to accuse him of being insane or making it all up. If nothing else, he expected for Harry to banish him or run from his crazy little omega. He didn’t expect to be ignored.

“Harry? Did you hear me?”

“I heard you,” came the response. His voice gave away nothing, not even an inkling of what he might be thinking as they stared into the dark shadows of a starless night. Again, he waited for Harry to say something more, but still Harry did not reveal his thoughts to Louis. The bed dipped once more before the mattress sprung back as Harry got out of bed and wandered to the open window.

Louis nipped at the skin of his bottom lip nervously, his toes curling as anxiety thrummed like electricity through his veins. “You think I'm raving mad, don’t you?”

“No.” Harry smoothed his fingers through his curls and pressed his fingers to his closed eyelids as he shook his head. “No, I believe you, Sassenach.”

“You do?”

In the lone stream of light provided by the moon, Louis watched Harry sigh and turn to look at him, half of his face obscured by darkness. “I don’t understand it a bit, not yet. But I trust you, I trust your word, your heart, and I trust there is a truth between us. And so, whatever ye tell me, I will believe you,” the alpha vowed with his right hand placed over where his heart was, only the silhouette of his muscular physique visible as he took a cautious step forward. “Can you tell me more?”

Louis nodded, for the first time feeling the relief of honesty flood through him. “Of course,” he whispered and sat up in bed, fingers twining together as he took a deep breath and began. “I was a combat nurse in the British army…” 

Louis told him everything, the whole story, it came pouring out of him like a cataract of water over a broken dam. He hadn’t realized how badly he needed to tell someone, anyone, about what had happened until he laid everything out before Harry, holding nothing back as he explained it all. He told Harry of his time as a nurse, of all the brutal memories that had haunted him for years and the void it had created between himself and his husband. Louis retold the tale of how he had stumbled upon the rocks of Craigh na Dun and found himself falling through time, of how confused he had been the first time he came across Black Jack Payne and how much it had conflicted him to feel the beginning stirrings of emotion when he met Harry.

To his credit, Harry listened to every word Louis said. He didn’t understand it all, he couldn’t possibly, but still he listened. As Louis told him of his life, Harry was an attentive audience, eventually coming to sit beside his mate on their bed. The omega found that once he had started, it was hard to stop the spew of stories that just kept coming, eager to share every part of his life with this man from his unstable childhood to his formative years in a finishing school. It felt so good, so freeing to finally be completely and fully himself with the man he was bound to, and he just couldn’t keep from wanting to show Harry everything. He desired to bare the depths of himself, for Harry to know his every innermost thoughts and wishes, for Harry to truly see him.

He talked into the early hours of the morning until his voice was hoarse and his body ached with a deep-set exhaustion, and if Harry was tired, he never once gave on. He laid with Louis, arm draped over his shoulders and his fingers absently playing with Louis’ hair as he spoke. He asked questions, but never tried to steer the conversation, simply focused on understanding Louis’ story. 

“Is that why you asked me not to kill him?” Harry asked when Louis explained the fear he had felt watching Harry and the man who had tormented the highlands for too long stood across from one another. “Because of your husband?”

In the entirety of their acquaintanceship, Louis had talked very little of his husband and in turn Harry had asked very few questions. It was difficult for Louis to speak of him not because he missed Liam so much, but because he had to lie every time he brought up his first husband. He hated lying to Harry, so he opted to never bring him up. 

Louis studied the vague profile of Harry’s face as pinched his bottom lip between his teeth and ducked his head. “Yes.”

Slowly, Harry nodded. His face remained stoic and for once, he masterfully kept his emotions hidden as he glanced at Louis from the corner of his eye. “Do you still love him?”

“Yes,” Louis whispered with a nod. It was a painful thing to admit and he wished that he would be able to stop loving Liam, to not care one bit about whatever happened to him and never look back wondering if Liam ever got his happy ending. He loved Liam in the way that one did when they looked back at a childhood memory, grateful for its role played in their life but not necessarily wishing to be back there. “I think a part of me will always love Liam.”

“You don’t talk about him much. Will you tell me? Was he good to you?”

Sighing, Louis rolled onto his side and rested his head on the firm pillow of Harry’s pec. “Liam was a very good man. He was kind and sweet, incredibly smart, and a man of great loyalty. He never once was harsh to me, never yelled, never fought, he was the most patient man I knew.”

Maybe it was just his imagination, but Louis could have sworn he heard a shakiness to Harry’s inhale as he hummed and skated his fingers over the omega’s arm, encouraging him to continue. “We met years before the war outside a flower shop. I was visiting a friend of mine who worked there and Liam was picking out flowers for his mother’s birthday. I practically ran right into him coming out of the shop and lost my balance but he had caught me, it was all very romantic and picturesque, the kind of thing you might find in a romance novel. He was buying my favorite flowers at the time, lilies, and I mentioned as much, and then we just kind of went from there I suppose. We got to talking and he invited me out to dinner. That night he bought me my favorite lilies and I was hooked from then on.”

With a yawn, Louis snuggled closer to his alpha, nestling into his side and blinking against the sleep that crept over him, his tiredness felt to the very bone as he relaxed into Harry’s embrace. “We got married just before I went to war, hoping that it would tide us over for however long I would be gone for, but I don’t think either one of us expected for the war to last for so long. By the time I returned home, I was an entirely different person, but he was still the same. I always felt guilty for that, you know. We were supposed to mate the day I fell through the stones. But I suppose fate and destiny had other plans for me.”

The arm looped around Louis’ waist tightened and Harry’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he nodded and pressed a kiss to the omega’s temple. “You’re tired, mo nighean donn. Rest your eyes and we’ll leave to take care of your heat when you awake.”

“Mmkay,” yawned the omega again, his eyes slipping shut and his body going lax, succumbing to the pull of slumber and promise of rest. In Harry’s arms, he felt safer than he did anywhere else, the knowledge that he was protected by the steadfast loyalty of his mate easing his concerns and calming his overactive mind. With Harry, he didn’t need to think nor worry about anything, shielded from all harm.

His sleep that night was not encumbered by the screams of fallen soldiers or the stains of death on parched land. He did not dream of wounded Scots or bloodied bandages, nor did the captain find his way into Louis’ subconscious. After witnessing the death of Captain Black Jack Payne at the hands of Harry’s own godfather Murtagh, Louis slept soundly, a certain peace finding him in knowing that the man who had whipped scars into the back of his mate was no longer free to roam the highlands or inflict pain on anyone ever again. He slipped into sleep like a rock in a pool of water, sinking quickly and unmoving as he slept a dreamless sleep.

It was the kind of sleep when you awoke not knowing where you were or who you were, completely disoriented and confused upon being pulled from slumber. When Louis awoke, it was to the sound of rain falling and an empty bed, the left side of the mattress cool to the touch and sheets rumpled. With the sky dark with an autumn storm, it could have just as easily been six in the morning as it could have been eight in the evening.

The omega grunted, his back aching as he rolled onto it and stretched his legs. Everything hurt. It reminded him of the night he had his car accident years ago, feeling like he’d been trapped in a barrel and sent rolling down a hill. But that wouldn’t explain the soreness of his heart upon seeing his mate’s absence.

He carefully extracted himself from the mess of sheets and blanket with a heavy sigh, rolling his neck, ankles, and shoulders as his joints popped and creaked from the physical strain. It was as he stood at the end of their bed that he realized he hadn’t another set of clothes to change into. The only dress he had was torn to shreds from Captain Payne’s blade and covered in blood after Louis had tended to the injuries of his travel companions. Looking down at the oversized linen shirt Harry had lent him, he figured it was better than nothing.

Dressed in only Harry’s shirt and stockings pulled up to his thighs, Louis padded down the steps in search of his mate and plate of food, preferably both. After yesterday, Louis was relieved to be greeted with the loud roaring laughter of the men he’d come to call friends. Even Angus was propped up in a chair wearing his signature front-teeth-missing smile as he snickered along with whatever story Dougal was telling. As Louis came into view, that laughter faded as the betas and alphas turned to look at him with wide eyes. Louis thought they were still mad at him but then Harry came rushing over to him, nostrils flaring as he pulled Louis against him.

“What are you doing, lass? You’re practically naked,” he growled, glaring at the other men with a snarl.

Oh. Louis giggled and poked his finger into Harry’s ribs. “I don’t exactly have a change of clothes, Harry. What would you have me do instead?”

Huffing, Harry snatched his cloak from the back of his chair and draped it over his omega. “I’d have you wait in our room so I can wait on ye hand and foot. Get your eyes off my mate,” he hissed at Angus when he noticed him leering. “Just because you’re injured doesn’t mean you get to stare at him.”

With a snort, Louis swatted Harry’s shoulder and shoved him away playfully. “How are you feeling today, Angus? You look well.”

“Aye, lassie. I’m right as rain, thanks to you.”

Louis went to Angus, holding the cloak around his shoulders as he crouched to take a closer look at the wound on his leg. “I’m so sorry for putting you in that position, I never wanted anyone to get hurt. I was careless and put all of you in harm’s way. For that, I’m truly sorry,” he apologized softly, his cheeks warm with embarrassment as he pulled back the bandage wrapped around the wound. It looked well enough and should continue to heal nicely if Angus was careful.

Murtagh smiled at him and nodded from across the table while Angus just tossed his head back and laughed, groaning as his incision pulled at the crude stitches, but laughed anyway. “Are you kidding? We got to knock some snotty sniveling heads together and send those bastards running to their ma’s tit!” he bellowed, slamming his hand on the table. “I call that a good day’s work. And I got some new scars and stories to tell the bonny lasses back home.”

Ah, yes. Louis could have seen that reaction coming from a mile away, but he still wanted the men to know that he was sorry. After his conversation with Harry last night, he now realized just how much danger he had put them in. He cared about these men greatly, something he never would have thought he’d say when he first laid eyes on them what felt like forever ago. He’d once thought that these Scots were brutes, primal and overly aggressive, annoyingly so. Some of that remained true—they were in fact aggressive and often acted on primitive instinct, but they were more than that. Loyal to the bone, caring, and brave, Louis had now come to see them as kin. 

They were his clan through and through.

As he sat beside Murtagh on the cramped wooden bench, he smiled softly and reached for a biscuit. It felt familiar, like a place he’d been a thousand other times or a well loved sweater that welcomed him home. Sandwiched between his mate and his mate’s godfather, Louis sighed contently and smiled when Harry rested a large, warm hand on his thigh. It was practically perfect.

Dougal continued on with his story but switched to English for the omega’s sake, an act that would seem so small and insignificant but meant the world to Louis. He laid his head on Harry’s shoulder, still a bit groggy from sleep but happy. With a yawn, he glanced at the clock and was surprised to see it was a bit after two in the afternoon. Good heavens, he’d somehow managed to sleep right through breakfast and lunch, wasting away half the day. They’d be leaving soon to begin their trek to Beauly to spend the duration of his heat in the privacy of a room by themselves and from there, he didn’t know where their future would take them.

Louis was happy enough to sit and listen to the men talk, occasionally interjecting with comments of his own but for the most part enjoying being cuddled into Harry’s side. When their bellies were filled, Harry and Louis ventured out into the rain, their bags packed and horses readied. It felt like a new beginning to his favorite story. It felt like going home.

≻⊱⌘⊰≺

The rain and cold didn’t bother the omega so much anymore, having grown somewhat accustomed to the chill that lingered in his bones and ached in his joints, but the thick fabric from Harry’s plaid kept the sharpest of chills at bay. The storm clouds hovered overhead day and night, raining off and on for days on end as he and Harry wandered through the hills. He’d lost track days ago of where they were, but Harry never seemed to get lost, easily navigating them through rocky mountains, endless valleys, and along winding rivers. Time and time again Louis was struck by the true beauty of this place. 

Never before had he considered himself a free spirit, always chalking that up to be some modernist new age trend, but there was a part of him that actually understood it as he rode through the towering pines and stood at the precipice of the bluffs, gazing at the splendor of the world around them. He got it now. The love he knew Harry, Murtagh, Dougal, even Colum MacKenzie felt for their country—he understood it. He felt it too.

Throughout their journey, Louis beguiled his mate with story after story from his life, sometimes tales of great sorrow and grief and other times excitedly sharing some of the best moments of his life. Harry listened intently, never once interrupting him or telling him to be quiet, eager to know more about this boy from a faraway land that he did not understand. Louis told him of cars and submarines that he had seen in the war, even attempting to explain airplanes to the Scot.

“And they just stay aloft? Like birds?” Harry had asked, staring at the stretch of cloudy gray sky overhead.

“Well, no, their wings are stationary, they don’t flap.”

With a bewildered chuckle, Harry shook his head in awe and turned his gaze to the omega. “And you’ve ridden in one?”

“Yes, several times,” Louis giggled, endlessly endeared by Harry. He was glad to get to share something with his mate, to teach him all the things he knew about the modern world and in turn, Harry taught him of this wild land that he had grown up in.

“How high can you fly?”

“Well, I don’t know exactly. Thousands of feet in the air at least.”

“Thousands of feet? You must have God’s own view from that height,” Harry breathed, unable to imagine a man, a land-living creature, able to soar above the clouds. It surely seemed unnatural to the alpha, like something from a fairytale, but he believed Louis, taking every word from his omegas mouth as truth. 

It was one of the most freeing feelings in the world, Louis had found. To look out the window and see nothing but endless skies and blue as far as the eye could see. It was an entirely different world up there, an unexplored atmosphere of mystical proportions. “It’s amazing. Especially the first time you go up. I mean, everything you can see on the ground just falls away until it disappears.”

As they wove their way through the patchwork of farms, forests, and lakes, a feeling stirred in Louis’ gut. There was something about the hazy evening hills and chirping crickets that elicited a sense of nostalgia in Louis. It was unsettling at best, the niggling feeling that he had been there before remaining in the back of his mind as he followed Harry up and down the slopes of hilly terrain. He couldn’t seem to put his finger on what it was that had him feeling so on edge, but it was like there was static electricity charged in the very air that swept through his fringe, tingling at his skin and buzzing in his veins. 

The strange feeling only grew as they rode along the unmarked path. 

He fell silent as they rode through the woodlands, his mind playing tricks on him as he imagined the haunting sound of bagpipes whistling through the hills. With each step his horse took, the peculiar sensation of déjà vu intensified, building and building like the crescendo of an orchestra following the rapidly increasing handmotions of their conductor, leaving the audience on their toes with anticipation until suddenly it fell over him in waves.

Craigh na Dun.

It finally made sense. He’d been so distracted by the scenery and thoughts of his own impending heat that he had hardly noticed how silent Harry had been through most of it. For days the alpha had been quieter than usual, his smiles lacking the same exuberant joy that they normally did and he’d not tried to initiate anything physical in days. 

Christ, Louis had figured it was only because it had been so cold and dreary the past few days, but now it was clear.

The stones appeared before him like something out of a dream, their looming silhouettes breaking through the spaces between the trees as he and Harry rode closer. Louis had all but given up on finding his way back to the stones, convinced that he would never stand before them or hear the same wind howling through the trees ever again. His breath caught in his lungs and his mouth felt dry as he stared at the formation of rocks, his mind jumping and dancing from thought to thought, like a stone skipping across a pond. 

In confusion, Louis turned to look at Harry, messy hair whipping in the breeze and his lips parting in shock. There was a look that Louis had never seen on the alpha’s face before, a certain morosity and resignation weighing down his features while he swung his leg over the saddle and walked towards the omega. Louis didn’t like it one bit. Seeing Harry like this only amplified the uneasy feeling coursing through him, fanning the flames of his anxiety.

Why had Harry brought him here?

Wordlessly, the alpha offered his hand to Louis. 

For a brief moment, he could do no more than stare at the outstretched hand, the smallest sliver of his subconscious longing to kick his heels into the horse’s flank and run. To what, he wasn’t sure, but he swallowed thickly and inhaled the crisp mountain air into his lungs before extending a shaky hand. His skin still tingled under Harry’s touch and his omega still preened at the smallest amount of attention he was given, but dread soon crawled up the base of his vertebrae and whispered its sad melody in his ear.

Louis slipped from the saddle and landed on weak knees, nearly toppling over before the alpha steadied him. Together, they gazed at one another with their hands joined and eyes locked, novels and sonnets and odysseys of words left unspoken hanging in the balance between them. It only broke when Harry ducked his head, fingers slipping away from Louis’ as he slowly wandered through the tall grass and stopped before the largest stone.

“Strange, the things you remember,” the alpha finally spoke. His voice was quiet and hoarse, trembling with every word. “The people, the places, the moments in time burned into your heart forever while others fade in the mist.”

Harry tread through the moss-covered rocks and dried reeds, raising a tentative hand like he might place his palm on the smooth surface of the stones before he froze, shaking his head as he dropped his hand by his side. He didn’t look at Louis, evergreen eyes unfocused and his brows furrowed. “I’ve always known I’ve lived a life different from other men. When I was a lad, I saw no path before me. I simply took a step and then another, ever forward, ever onward, rushing toward someplace, I knew not where. And one day I turned around and looked back and saw that each step I’d taken was a choice. To go left, to go right, to go forward, or even to not go at all. Every day, every man has a choice. Between right and wrong, between love and hate, sometimes between life and death. And the sum of those choices becomes your life. The day I realized that is the day I became a man.”

Louis wrapped his arms around himself and took a tentative step towards the man, a shiver shaking him to his core. Fog billowed at his feet, creeping through the frosted grass over the hill with every stride the omega took. “Harry, what are you saying?”

He didn’t like this introspective take on life that Harry seemed to have. This wasn’t the happy, go-lucky man that he knew and adored, it was someone else—someone with the weight of the world on their shoulders. And then Harry turned to him. The alpha looked even more nervous than they had on the day that they wed, his hands shaking as he reached for Louis’. 

“I’m saying that life is about choices, Sassenach,” he whispered. His eyes were glassy and his nose was red, looking a bit like he might burst into tears. It was his scent that betrayed him most, the calming scent of whiskey turned bitter and sage singed with the notes of fear. “And I’m giving you one now.” 

When the first words left Harry’s lips, Louis’ heart nearly broke and shattered into pieces. The large, callused hands that held his own were trembling like a leaf, and seeing Harry look so raw, so vulnerable, shocked Louis into silence. He could do nothing but stare, wind whipping cold and bracing as the two stood at the top of the hill of Craigh na Dun.

Harry blinked back his tears and smiled, no joy to be found in his expression. His face held the sorrow of a thousand lifetimes as he squeezed Louis’ fingers and shook his head. “I love you, Louis, and I’m sorry to part with you,” he murmured. “But your own time is on the other side of that stone. Your life, the things you know, Liam. They’re all on the other side. I must let you go.”

Let Louis go. For weeks he had longed for nothing more than to return to the life he knew so well, to get to go back to his own time and sleep in his own bed with his husband. And now he finally got what he had wished for. All that time ago, when Harry had comforted him in the cold and dark hallways of Castle Leoch, Harry had kept his promise. “Liam?”

His husband. God, he didn’t know if Liam was even alive, much less if he would forgive Louis for being unfaithful, even if it wasn’t his choice. How could Liam look at him with the mark on his neck and a ring on his finger that wasn’t his own, how could he forgive Louis for finding another husband, for mating with someone else? 

“Go,” Harry breathed, lips pressed into a tight line like he was forcing himself not to cry. “There’s nothing for you here save for violence and danger. Now go.” He turned to leave, hesitating only for a minute as he spoke over his shoulder, though he did not look at Louis again, “I’ll stay at the camp until nightfall to make sure that you’re safe. Goodbye, Sassenach.”

The words echoed amongst the towering stones, their tone cutting deeper than a knife. He was being set free, released to return to the life he knew—to his own century—and finally given a choice over his fate. It was his now, he could do whatever he pleased. He could go home to Liam and resume their life or he could travel back through the stones to go back to London on his own and forge a new life for himself. 

He could do anything.

As Harry’s strides took him further and further from the omega, Louis’ heart jumped up into his throat and his bondmark throbbed. “Harry, wait,” he blurted, his hand clutching his chest. ‘Stay? Go? Come with me?’ Each thought was batted around the inside of his skull, shaken back and forth until they were nothing more than a jumbled mess that Louis had to pick apart and scour in search of what he truly wanted. 

His mouth opened and closed, his hope that he would somehow find the magic words to say that would make all of this better dashed. He didn’t know that there was anything he could do or say that would be best for everyone, no perfect answer to the question being asked. Louis bit down on his bottom lip, panic echoing in the chambers of his heart as he gazed forlornly at the alpha whose mark and ring he now wore.

Harry shook his head with one final glance over his shoulder, swallowing thickly before smiling sadly at the ground, unable to even look at Louis. “Goodbye.”

Leaves crunched beneath his feet and his curls shifted in the wind as he turned his back on the omega he called mate. As Louis watched him go, a silent scream crawled up his throat, begging to be released, to call Harry back to him and summon him from the fog he disappeared into. But he didn’t say a word. He’d not realized just how much he had relied on others until suddenly his entire future hung in the balance in front of him, two very clear paths laid out and no direction as to which one to take.

He sighed in a shaken breath and clutched the plaid around his shoulders, finally tearing his gaze from the treeline to stare at the curious formation of stones, their history and lore even more mysterious than they had been that night when he and Liam had hidden amongst the tall grass, for now he believed.

This was the place where it had all begun. So much had happened since then. So much had changed. The last time he was here he was Louis Payne, then Louis Tomlinson, and then Louis Styles. The question was, who did he want to be?

Did he want to be the scholar’s wife, a predictable future of pups, housekeeping, reading and looking after Liam? It was the safest choice, to return to what he knew and live the life he’d had planned for so many years, learning to love his husband again and growing into the person he was supposed to be. Or perhaps he should return to 1945 and seek out the alpha he had left behind to return the ring, take back the freedom of being single and set out to achieve his dreams. He could become a doctor or a surgeon, saving lives and leaving his own mark on the world. 

Or he could do what he feared most, and stay. 

The omega stood at the foot of the largest of the stones, craning his head back to peer up at the top of the stone, not for the first time wondering how they had gotten there. With his brows pinched and his bottom lip trapped between his teeth, Louis knelt to the ground and buried his head in his hands. He should go—it was the safest, most sensible option. He should reach out his hand right then and there and throw himself back into the 20th century. 

But as Louis looked down at his hands and stared at the rings adorning each fourth finger on either hand, he frowned. 

What about Harry?

He thought back to the dream he had once had, recalling the moment that he had stood before the two alphas of his life, and remembered the two lives he saw with each. They were completely different, incomparable, but only one of them was with a man that his soul yearned for. It wasn’t until he was faced with the possibility of moving on that he finally realized what he had been too afraid to accept. 

He was foolishly, madly, and deeply in love with Harry.

God, it sounded absolutely insane to fall in love with a man he’d only known a few weeks but as he looked down at the ring made of brass and forged from the Styles family crest, he knew that his heart belonged to Harry. 

As terrified as it made him to admit it, this untameable world had begun to feel like home. It was scary and intimidating, wild beyond comprehension, but it was where Louis had discovered himself. He was no longer the same omega he had been when he last stood before the stones, he was wiser, stronger, and freer. But with it came the dangers and tribulations of living in a world undeveloped by modern technologies. He knew better than to think that his life would be perfect if he stayed. Sickness alone would pose an enormous threat without the medicines of the 20th century and he was well aware that the mortality rate was less than half of what it was in his own time.

And then there was the unrest of Scottish people. In just a few years time the Scots would attempt to rise up against their British oppressors and fight for who they thought to be the rightful heir to the throne, but Louis knew what they did not. For a while it would appear as though the Scots were making headway, but it would all come to an end at Culloden Moor. He knew not of which of the men he’d grown to call family would survive or who would perish on the battlefield, but life would change greatly for these men. Their customs and way of life would never be the same.

So as he sat on the damp, soft moss of Craigh na Dun he asked himself, was his love for Harry enough? Was the connection of their souls and bond of two hearts enough to carry him forward in this land of untamed beauty and wilderness?

Tears streamed down his cheeks and his heart hammered in his chest, the heavy beat of his lifeblood pounding in his ears as he got to his feet. Two alphas, two lives, one choice. Through watery eyes and blurry vision, the omega looked down at the two rings wrapped perfectly around each finger and took a deep breath. His decision had been made. Slowly, Louis wiggled the ring off his finger and pressed a kiss to the cool metal. He couldn’t carry it with him, not if he had any hope to move on. He had to let the past go and find his own way in the world without the ghosts of previous men haunting him.

With trembling fingers, Louis placed the ring at the foot of the stone. “Goodbye,” he whispered, tears flowing freely down his flushed cheeks as fear, worry, and something else that felt a bit like hope swelled in his veins—taking his first step towards his future.

And then he felt like he was falling all over again. The world felt like it was rushing around him, spinning faster and faster on its axis as he plummeted towards the life he had chosen and the air in his lungs swept right out as his heart hammered against his ribcage. The scenery around him became nothing but a blur of pine needles, moss, and thundering clouds overhead, everything twisting and running a mile a minute as he ran through the woods with branches whipping at his flesh and chilly air nipping at his cheeks.

Finally, Louis felt like he was in control, even as the world around him seemed to change with his every stride and thunder boomed in the distance. He ran until his lungs heaved with every breath and his legs felt like they may give out beneath him. Breaking through the thick underbrush, Louis burst into the clearing and the world stood still. 

His decision was made and his mind was set, he knew what he wanted. For the first time in a very long time he felt completely and absolutely certain of himself as he stood with wobbly knees and fidgeted with his fingers, staring at the life he had chosen.

With tear-stained cheeks flushed and his nose red and dripping, he probably looked about as unattractive as possible, but Louis didn’t care one bit. As he looked at the man lying beside the dying flames of the small campfire, he sniffled wetly and smiled with wobbly lips. “I choose you.”

Louis had no idea how long he had sat at the stones, but it must have been long enough that Harry had thought he had left, given the look of complete shock that he wore. The fire crackled in the tranquil peace of night but it wasn’t the flames that had his body feeling warm and feverish—it was Harry. The omega took a tentative step forward, his fingers fidgeting with one single ring looped around his finger made of hammered brass.

“I love you, Harry. It’s crazy and irrational and probably the most insane thing I’ve ever done but I love you more than anything and I’m choosing you.” The tears he had just managed to suppress came bubbling back up to the surface the moment Harry laid his eyes on the omega, but this time they were tears of joy.

They were both crying, sniveling like children as Harry held out his arms. Without wasting another moment, Louis lurched into action, practically flinging himself into the embrace of his alpha and sobbing openly as he clung to Harry. “It’s you, Harry. You’re all I want.”

Harry nodded, body trembling with his cries, and stared at Louis in awe, his teary eyes dazzlingly green as they looked at one another. “But what about all the things you told me about? What about the air birds?”

With a wet laugh, Louis shook his head and cradled Harry’s strong jaw in the palm of his hand, swiping his thumb through the tears wetting his undereye. “Fuck the airplanes, Harry. I fly when I’m with you.”

“Good God,” Harry sniffled, plump red lips pulling into the most perfect smile. “I wanted ye the first time I saw you—but I loved you when you wept in my arms and let me comfort you that first time at Leoch. I love you so much it hurts.”

“Then kiss me,” Louis whispered. The words barely left his lips before Harry’s mouth was on his own, the force with which he kissed the omega knocking the breath out of his lungs. Just like their first kiss and every other kiss since that day, the feeling of Harry’s lips against his own sent shockwaves up Louis’ spine, desire fizzling to life in his fingertips and his omega sighing happily.

As he kissed the one man who drove him crazy like no other, made him smile like no other, and that he loved like no other, he knew that this was all worth it. Any danger or struggles he may face as a consequence for his decision to stay would be well worth it as long as Harry was by his side. Their kiss was wet and a bit messy, both of them desperate to feel closer to the other as they slotted their lips together. Louis was just happy to know the desires of his own heart, to know that Harry was his and he was Harry’s for as long as the fates allowed, trying to convey the sentiment with feverish kisses and wandering hands groping eagerly.

“God, Harry,” the omega whimpered, his skin practically on fire as Harry dragged his lips across Louis’ mouth and down the slope of his neck. He nipped at the sensitive flesh and skated his hands down the delicate curve of Louis’ back.

“I love you. I could say these words forever and ever and ever and never grow tired of saying them. I ache for you and only you,” Harry murmured, his breath fanning over the spit-slick skin of his mate. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” With each declaration, Harry pressed kiss after kiss over every inch of Louis’ exposed skin.

Louis nodded, lips falling open when Harry’s teeth scraped gently over the purple mark inked into the side of his neck, nerves buzzing with the sensation. “I want to grow old with you. I want to get to love you forever until we’re both old and ugly and wrinkled all over. Even when all your hair falls out and I get fat and— Oh .” Louis gasped, legs flexing on either side of Harry’s lap when the alpha cut him off with a light bite on the shoulder and a hand gripping his ass.

It was terribly difficult to focus on professing his love for Harry when the alpha seemed intent on rendering him speechless with nothing but his hands and his mouth, not that Louis should be complaining. He let out an airy sigh and bit his lip, rolling his hips on instinct while carding his fingers through Harry’s curls. He’d never get over the feeling of being draped in alpha heat and hormones. Evidently, neither would Harry, his desperation portrayed in fervent kisses that made Louis’ stomach flip with excitement and his body react with slick.

“Alpha,” the petite omega wheezed, legs spreading on instinct. “Want you— need you.”

“Yeah? Need me to make love to you, pup?”

As Harry’s fingers hooked into the laces of Louis’ corset, the boy’s heart leaped in his chest and a small grin twitched on his lips. Make love. God, he got to do this for the rest of his life, feeling the excitement of being mated and married to a handsome and kind man like Harry. “Yes, Alpha. Make love to me. Make me yours forever.”

Louis’ stays loosened with a sigh of relief falling from his lips and then Harry was tearing it from his body, yanking the neckline of his shift down to expose his shivering skin and pink, perky nipples to the cool air. It was probably way too cold to be undressing in the middle of the night, but neither one of them cared when their bodies were illuminated by the warm glow of the fire and fog surrounding them like heaven come down. 

As quickly as Louis’ chest was bared, Harry ducked down to cover the pretty buds with his plush lips, his hot breath pulling a whine from the omega’s lungs as he arched into the touch. His nipples had always been a bit more sensitive than most, something that used to be embarrassing but now felt amazing when he had his mate’s mouth on him. The wet kisses turned to broad licks over the sensitive flesh and his mouth fell open in pleasure, a tingling blossoming in his chest and sent waves of slick flooding into his undergarments as his hips twitched.

“So pretty for me. Made of perfect pearl, aren’t you lass? My perfect boy,” grunted the alpha. His hands fit themselves around the roundness of Louis’ ass and squeezed, kneading the flesh with each drag of his tongue. “Taste so beautiful. My favorite sweet treat.”

In one swift movement, Harry flipped them over and gently laid Louis down on the thin mat he had been trying to sleep on. He looked down at the omega with love in his eyes and a lustful smirk on his lips. His gaze darkened when he eased himself down Louis’ body, never breaking eye contact. “Think it’s finally time I taste you, don’t you think, mo nighean donn?”

“Jesus H. Christ,” Louis gasped when his skirts were lifted and Harry’s prickly stubble tickled against his inner thighs. One second they were kissing and the next Harry’s breath was ghosting over his leaking hole, the omega’s legs draped over his shoulders. It felt like an eternity since he’d last felt that kind of pleasure and the second Harry’s hands gripped the soft flesh of Louis’ thighs, dimpling the flesh in his large grip, Louis moaned into the night.

“You smell amazing, baby. God, I can’t wait to get to taste you,” Harry breathed. He sounded reverant, even though Louis couldn’t see the look on his face. Without being able to see, the omega was at the whim of Harry’s desires, every touch taking him by surprise. His thighs jumped and his hole clenched when Harry's lips brushed over the crease between his hip and thigh, eyes rolling back at the warm breath ghosting over him. “Do I just, um, kiss it? Tell me what feels good.”

Shit, why was there something so erotic but adorable about Harry not knowing but desperately wanting to please his omega?

Louis licked over his lips and squirmed, slick dripping in pearls and wetting the fabric beneath him when Harry mouthed at the quivering flesh of his thigh. “Yeah, can kiss it and lick over it. Um, and like, move your tongue around,” he explained weakly, toes curling in anticipation. 

He didn’t have to wait long. Harry had always been a little on the impatiently enthusiastic side and this time was no different, his nose nudging against Louis’ taint as he sought out the source of the beautiful scent of sweet honey and lavender radiating from the omega’s core. Immediately Louis felt a curious finger probe at his rim, the muscle twitching and opening easily for Harry. His whimper sounded completely debauched already and Harry had hardly even touched him. 

Then he heard a groan come from beneath the skirt pushed up his thighs. “Fuck, you taste even better than you smell.”

Giggling breathlessly, Louis opened his mouth, ready with a clever reply like he always was, but then something broad and warm lathed over his fluttering hole and he forgot everything he’d ever thought or said, only a low mewl coming out instead. Harry hummed at the taste of slick on his tongue and lapped over the source again, spiced whiskey blending with the sweet smell of omega. Clearly he was just as into this as Louis was as he eagerly pulled Louis’ hips closer and hungrily dipped his tongue inside. It was complete and utter bliss, that tantalizing muscle dipping into him and sliding against his walls.

Louis’ eyes rolled back and he draped his arm over his eyes, lips parted in a permanent moan and his heels pressing into the musculature of Harry’s back, body writhing within minutes of Harry getting his tongue on him. “Y-yeah, just like that,” he keened. It seemed entirely possible that Harry’s tongue was just as magical as the stones of Craigh na Dun were, given the high-pitched moans he pulled from the quivering omega. “You can—fuck—you can add a finger too.”

He hummed happily as Harry immediately moved to try it, his finger nudging against his rim before slipping right in with ease. The additional stretch felt sublime, sending heat zipping down his spine and pooling in his stomach, thick and slow like molasses dripping off a spoon on a warm summer’s day. Sweet noises of enjoyment spurred Harry on, his efforts doubling to extract noises Louis didn’t even know he was capable of.

Licking, sucking, and probing with his finger, Harry pushed the dress up Louis’ thighs and bunched it around his waist, but his face was still obscured as he lapped the omega’s excitement leaking from his most intimate places. The autumn air breezing over the slick dripping from his hole was a feeling like none he’d ever experienced. It was cold, but wonderful in the most conflicting, erotic way that made him shiver with want.

“Harry, feels so good,” he whined, hips rocking down against Harry’s face shamelessly. Louis was a mess, a whimpering, keening, whining mess of slick and sweat beading on his brow as he writhed under Harry’s touch. 

The alpha was like a drug, addicting and pulling Louis back in when he thought he might tip right over the edge and lose himself to the throes of pleasure. He buzzed in Louis’ veins and slid beneath his skin, energy crackling between them as Harry’s tongue wriggled and prodded at the deepest parts of Louis. Facial hair scratching against his skin tingled and burned between his cheeks but there was something so wonderful and intoxicating about it that Louis simply tipped his head back and groaned. “‘M close, love. Gonna come if you don’t stop,” he warned in a broken mewl.

His words didn’t deter Harry. Instead, Harry pushed the skirt up and over Louis’ hips, finally giving Louis a view of his face, and what he saw had his toes curling and his back arching. Harry’s lips were shining with slick and his pupils were blown until the green in his eyes were only slivers. It was primal, animalistic, and wild—and it sent him cascading into blissful paradise. 

With a gasp and a high-pitched moan, Louis came, stars dancing behind his eyes as euphoria overtook him. Wave after wave crashed through him and had his whole body lighting up like fireworks lit beneath his skin, his fingers knotting themselves in the head of wild curls between Louis’ legs and his chest heaving with every pang of pleasure. 

Ears buzzing and heart beating wildly, Louis panted and reveled in the wonder of it all, melting as Harry pressed delicate kisses down Louis’ inner thigh and smoothed his hand over the twitching abdomen of his mate. He was always so gentle with Louis, except for when Louis begged him not to be, and through the fog of orgasmic delirium, he vaguely registered murmured words leave those sugar sweet lips.

As good as he felt riding on the high of some of the best oral sex he’d ever received, he still had so much more that he wanted.

Louis whined low in his throat, bones creaking as Harry kissed up his leg and crawled up his body until green eyes met blue. “C’mere,” he slurred, canting his hips against Harry’s and purring with the soothing touch of Harry’s hand caressing his cheek. 

“I love you,” Harry whispered, kissing the tip of his nose and then his forehead followed by his chin. “So much.”

Louis could practically burst, his heart so full that he feared it would fracture a rib and pierce his lung if it swelled any more, but he would die a thousand deaths if it meant he could be like this, laying beneath his mate with heaven in his eyes, even for one brief moment in time. Leaning up, Louis nudged his lips against Harry’s and sighed happily, honey so sweet it tasted like candy on Harry’s tongue as he licked into his husband’s mouth. This was his forever, this was his eternity.

Harry didn’t need much coaxing before he was pushing inside, finally getting a taste of the same elation that Louis had felt. Their first time had been short, their second had been great, but this time it was perfect. There were no complicated positions nor filthy speech of what they wanted to do to one another, just two souls joining together in love and devotion. Through it, Louis couldn’t stop gazing in awe at this man, this rugged alpha who had found him when Louis was lost in more ways than he even knew. 

It hadn’t gone the way that either of them had expected, but their story and their love for one another was no less perfect. As Harry thrust into the warm, encompassing heat of his mate’s body, he grinned dopily down at Louis, threading their fingers together over Louis’ head. Every drive of his cock sent Louis scooting up the bedroll, his head lolling to the side and mouth trapped open. Deep within him, he could feel the head of Harry’s cock nudging the bundle of nerves tucked up beneath his belly button and a part of his mind couldn’t help but think about there some day being a pup there.

Bodies moving fluidly together as one being, the two mates cried out into the cloudy night sky. They cried for love, for change, for taking chances. As they fervently panted breaths of love confessions against swollen lips, Harry’s mouth curled into a smile and Louis’ did the same. There hadn’t been a day in his life that he had felt as happy as he did in that moment with Harry’s knot locked inside him and his mark on his neck. 

The happiness he felt that night carried well into the next morning, his spirits renewed with the hope and optimism of what their future would bring. After four long days of rain, the clouds finally parted and the sun shone down upon them, washing the sky with rich hues of apricot, mauve, magenta, and honey as Louis stood overlooking the highlands and breathed in the sweet morning air of the mountains.

Leaves crunched and twigs snapped as two warm arms wrapped around his waist and a pair of lips pressed against his neck. He finally knew where he belonged. As he leaned back into the strong chest and sighed happily, he was entirely at peace with his decision to stay in this wild land of adventure and the unexplored, forever by the side of his one and only mate.

“Good morning, sweet lass,” Harry murmured, his morning voice thick with grit and timbre. He hummed low and happy, swaying side to side as he hugged his little mate close to his chest and their scents melded into one on the breeze of autumn. “What do you think? Should we make our way to Beauly for your heat?”

Louis shook his head and turned in Harry’s embrace to drape his arms over the alpha’s shoulders. “Take me home. Take me to Lallybroch,” he whispered, thumbing at the singular band of brass hugging his fourth finger. 

Je suis prest. 

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It was true that people disappeared all the time. Whether it was young men eagerly flocking to enlist and sail across the seas to fight for their countries, little ones taking a wrong turn on their way home from the playground, or omegas packing up their things in the middle of the night, people ran away from home every day without so much as a word or letter. While some stayed missing forever, many returned home with some sort of explanation or stories of their whereabouts. Usually. And then there were those who weren’t really running away from home at all. They were running towards it.

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