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The entire tourney was a dreadful affair and Aerion Targaryen would rather be off to Dragonstone than be here in this muck of a place. The weather was far too hot for any enjoyment, the bustle of smallfolk irritated him to no ends and Lord Ashford's constant droning grated on his nerves. The only reason he had even continued to stay and not sharply ride back to the Red Keep was because of his father and his dearest uncle. His uncle had stressed it upon on them on how important it was to keep peace with the lords of the realm and showing care towards them in banquets as well as tourneys will go a long way.

The Alpha was the Hammer of the House Targaryen, the only other Alpha in house Targaryen other than King Daeron II, the good king and so his word was the law while the king was not here. Every other Targaryen was either Omega or a boring Beta—Aerion was one such Omega of House Targaryen and it curdled his insides whenever other Omegas stared at his uncle whenever they walked by.

Alphas were short in stock simply to say, especially after the Dance of The Dragons. After Rhaenyra the Black Queen was murdered by her own brother over the iron throne, dragons and Alphas alike fell one by one until there were none of the dragons and so few Alphas that they only numbered a dozen. Many thought it a curse from the usurped Queen who was denied her rightful throne, punishing the realm for punishing her for being an Omega despite the first in line to the throne. With the dragons, the Alphas were the next best thing and they were dwindling so quickly, the newborns of the years to come always presented to be Omegas and Betas nowdays. House Targaryen had been blessed by the fourteen flames for even having two Alphas in the family—considering how so many noble Houses were now led by Omegas or Betas because they had no Alphas.

Aerion thought it was rather fitting that his fabled House had the Alphas the realm desired so much, the dragon bloodline will always prevail and remain victorious regardless of what happened. Which is why he is close to unsheathing his hidden dagger gifted to him by his grandsire and slitting the throat of every Omega who batted their eyelashes to the Hand of the King. They were unworthy sows, they were of Andal blood who had no business sniffing around House Targaryen's prized Alpha. Wretched bitches, He sneered to himself, grasping for my uncle with their filthy commoner hands.

His uncle deserved a true dragon bride, someone who understood their House's strengths and needs more than anyone else. His deserved someone like him, he who was dragon in human skin and was more than strong enough to give the older Alpha more pups since his wife had died. He personally thought it was good riddance that the Dorne Beta had done a good deed by simply dying—not only was she from Dorne, she was a Beta who should have never been considered for an Alpha from the blood of the dragon. He had cheered in the privacy of his room when the news of the plain faced cunt's death had come, packing his belongings to go to the Red Keep with his father to pay their condolences and attend the funeral while wondering if his Alpha uncle ached for the soothing touch of an Omega.

He had hovered by his uncle's side the entire funeral, barely stopping himself from giggling gleefully whenever he noticed his Alpha uncle unconsciously turn his head towards Aerion to take deep sniffs of the Omega sweetness. It had stopped being so delightful when Matarys had wobbled to his side with sniffles, decked out in full black cloak and a black dress. The younger Omega had smelled the sweetness honey of Aerion's scent and come over to seek comfort, burying his face in the silver haired Omega's neck while weeping. 

While irritated, Aerion had wrapped an arm around Matarys to let him cry all over in order to show his uncle look, I can take care of your sons as well as she could if not better.

And his uncle had looked indeed.

That was years ago and things had panned out in a way he couldn't have thought. He was drawn from his thoughts as his squire gave him his helm, his nimble fingers easily sliding the metal in place over his head. The heat inside the helm was stifling, a sweltering embrace that felt less like the summer sun and more like the breath of a dragon trapped within the red enamel scales of his armor. He adored it—while other men, those lesser creatures of mud and straw, wilted under the wine and hesitance of striking against the royal family. He sat atop his destrier, a beast draped in caparisons of dragon shaped armor and looking every inch of the formidable thing it was meant to be.

Hid armor was wrought to resemble the scales of a beast from the age of wonders, the crest upon his helm rising like a plume of solidified fire. He could feel the eyes of the smallfolk and the minor lords crawling over him and it was a sensation akin to insects skittering across his skin. They stared with a mixture of awe and terror, which was exactly the type of thing Aerion preferred to imbibe. It smelled of oiled steel horsehair and the faint, sweet perfume he had dabbed behind his ears—a scent meant to mask the musk of his own Omega smell.

His cousin—Valarr Targaryen—had jousted the night before. It had been a spectacle that bored him to tears watching the prince be only challenged by old men and young squires, the realm would rather chew their own foot rather than strike a true wound across the prince of the realm. The only reprise Aerion had gotten was being seated near his Alpha uncle whose scent had been so doused with pride and affection that it made the silver haired Omega seethe. What was there to be proud of? His oldest son only fought old men and squires, not true warriors yet the older Alpha beamed like the sun.

He adjusted his grip on the reins, the leather creaking in his gauntleted fist and allowed a smirk to ghost across his lips and it was invisible beneath the visor he had just snapped shut, only to raise it again the moment he sought out the only gaze that truly mattered in this place of sheep.

His violet eyes locked onto the dais trailing over the fat lords and the giggling ladies to find the true Targaryen of their House, Baelor Breakspear. The mere sight of his uncle, the Hand of the King, sent an embarrassing need straight to the Omega's quim and it was a heavy pooling warmth that had nothing to do with the heat of the Ashford day. Baelor Targaryen was an Alpha—a true rarity, a relic of the days when Targaryens were closer to gods than men.

The rest of them, Aerion included, were Omegas and they were beautiful and fierce perhaps but ultimately nothing compared to the might of an Alpha like their uncle. His grandfather King Daeron II was right to keep his oldest son close, the presence of two Alphas tamed the court more than anything else when there was no dragons anymore. The only other noble Alphas with the right bloodlines here were Lyonel and the Tyrell man that Aerion could not be bothered to learn the name of.

Seeing his dearest uncle twirl that ring, the casual display of dexterity in his strong calloused fingers, made the silver haired Omega's breath hitch. He perceived the tilt of his uncle Baelor's head towards him and his belly ached with something shameful. Look at me, Aerion thought, his inner dragon preening, arching its back under the weight of that dark heavy stare. He wanted to be stripped of this Targaryen steel and laid bare before the realm's protector; he wanted those fingers that toyed with the ring to be forced down his throat or playing with his quim.

He wanted to be the sole focus of that half lidded gaze. He wanted to be the problem his uncle had to solve, the menacing younger dragon his uncle had to put down underneath his own claw. The ring twirling in uncle's hand was a hypnotic calling for an Omega and for a second, Aerion imagined those large calloused hands around his throat instead of the jewelry.

Turning his mount away from the royal box, he guided the horse toward the pavilion where his cousin waited and his movements were fluid and arrogant as it always were. Valarr Targaryen sat there, the Young Prince who was the perfect heir draped in the stark practical black armor of their House. His violet eyes flickered towards the coiled Dragon symbol of their House stamped on the black armor, declaring to every House out there that the dragons were still alive in human skin.

It infuriated Aerion how dull Valarr looked, like a moon trying to exist in the presence of the sun of his silver haired relatives. His cousin Valarr was an Omega too but the silver haired Omega knew he excelled his cousin in every way that mattered in terms of beauty and bloodline, he was not boring like his cousin and he certainly wasn't sullen constantly as if pressed down by a mountain of responsibilities. As his cousin rose and approached with the sleek helm cradled in his arm, his cousin's scent was more prominent with every inch taken closer.

He looked down from his high saddle, his nose wrinkling slightly as if he had caught a whiff of something rotting though Valarr smelled only of expensive oil and the faint sweet scent of a bored Omega. His pale eyelashes fluttered as he took in the dark hair streaked with the famous Targaryen silver-gold, something he had gotten from his dark haired father. The sharp sting of jealously was immediate and it was was a living thing, a serpent coiling in his belly and biting at his insides every time he remembered that Valarr was his uncle's beloved son, his blood and the one who slept under the same roof and breathed the same air as the Alpha every day.

The very sight of him made Aerion's lip curl behind his steel helm. His cousin was everything Aerion despised, the older boy was dutiful, somber and agonizingly favored.

The heir to the heir.

Another Omega like the silver haired one with his mismatching eyes—one the blue of a summer sky, the other the brown of common earth—watching his cousin approach with that weary long-suffering expression that made Aerion want to flay him. Do you despise me as the rest of the family despises me so cousin? He wanted to hiss to the older Omega who was only older by a few years, as if you have any right you dullard.

Valarr Targaryen was the perfect Omega son, the one who didn't bite and the one who spread his legs for the good of the realm to his father and the pleasure of his father-Alpha without complaint.

"Not to worry, cousin." Aerion purred, the High Valyrian rolling off his tongue like a silken coyness sharp and sweet, "I won't embarrass you today."

He watched his cousin's handsome face, the way the mismatched eye narrowed slightly. It sent a shiver down the silver haired Omega's spine and he wanted to lean forward to bare his teeth at the dark haired Omega, he wanted to tug his armor down to sniff at the Omega's nape for that sweetness that made his mouth water. His cousin whispered to him, his voice level toned just like his father, "Behave, cousin. Father will not be pleased if you create trouble in this tourney. You remember the last time he punished you, yes?"

The warning instantly grated on his nerves. He hated being reminded of consequences.

He was a dragon and dragons did not suffer consequences, they were above consequences as they were closer to Gods than men.  The mention of punishment brought forth the memory Valarr invoked perhaps unwittingly and it washed over Aerion like a distant dream dragging him back to the solar in King's Landing, the smell of parchment and old stone and the overwhelming, musk heavy scent of a displeased Alpha. Aerion could feel the phantom sting on his ass, a burning heat that spread from his cheeks down to the back of his thighs.

The last time.

Aerion remembered the cold stone floor against his knees and the humiliating heat of his bare skin exposed to the air. He had been bent over his uncle's lap, his ass red and stinging stripped of his silks and his dignity. He could still feel the phantom sting of his uncle's heavy hand, the way the Alpha had swatted him like he were a misbehaving babe rather than an Omega prince of the realm. He had been crying shameful hot tears of pain but beneath the agony was a desperate whining need to be broken by the only man worthy of taming a dragon.

Smack.

"Count." The Alpha had ordered, his voice a low rumble that drifted through the younger Omega's body like a violin sting being plucked. It was utterly humiliating and demeaning to be treated in such a way like he was some whore for his uncle's hands.

The sound had echoed off the walls and he had counted, his voice trembling as tears of rage and arousal leaked from his violet eyes one, two, three. Every slap had jarred the younger boy's teeth in way that made his toes curl and his quim twitch against the clothed thighs of his Alpha uncle. He remembered turning his head, gasping between sobs to see his cousin watching. Valarr's scent had filled the room with a cloying sweetness of an Omega in distress yet underneath it was the silky want of absolutely need. The Young Prince was standing in the corner of the solar, completely naked with his pale skin glowing in the candlelight.

It was the only time his uncle touched him with such intent and Aerion had hoarded the pain like gold.

His cousin's soft thighs had been trembling and coated in a thick translucent sheen of slick that ran down his legs to pool on the Myrish carpet. The silver haired Omega remembered the way his little pussy had leaked onto the floor with the shameful slick mess he had made while his uncle disciplined him. He remembered looking up through his wet silver lashes to see Valarr's face flushed and the older Omega's breath coming in short and shallow gasps, his own thighs shimmering with the slick of his arousal.

Whore, he wanted to snarl at the Omega back then.

"Punishment?" The silver haired Omega repeated in High Valyrian and letting it hang in the sultry air between them. He leaned down from his horse, invading Valarr's personal space, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial and venomous whisper in their ancestral tongue, "Do not pretend you did not enjoy the show, sweet cousin. I saw how you dripped for him while he turned my skin red. You looked less like a prince and more like a bitch in heat waiting for your father to give you your turn."

His cousin's face turned a bit red at that comment and his mismatched eyes narrowed even further; truly it almost pained Aerion how stuffy both son and father could be at times. He shifted in his saddle, unconsciously grinding his hips against the leather and the friction sending a pang of pleasure through his pussy.

He remembers how his uncle had finished with doling out his punishment, leaving him red and raw and whimpering, denied any pleasure with his pussy lips leaking slick that stained the floor. And then, the Alpha had turned to his son. Aerion's knuckles turned white on his reins as he recalled the sound of his Alpha uncle growling—He remembered being shoved off the Alpha's lap with his ass throbbing and both holes aching and empty, only to be forced to watch. He remembered his uncle beckoning the dark haired Omega forward.

He remembered being forced to stand to the side, his ass blooming black and blue and his holes clenching emptily while he watched his Alpha uncle rut into his own Omega son. He had watched the way his cousin's head fell back, the way his mismatched eyes rolled up and the way he mewled and purred like a common whore as the Alpha pounded him. The sounds of wet, slapping skin and the squelch of slick and semen with the heavy grunts of the Alpha—He remembered the smell of the mating musk and he had fumed so much the entire solar room stunk of soured Omega.

His dull and dutiful cousin had taken the knot that day, his cousin had been filled with the Alpha's seed while Aerion was left aching for the same knot as a punishment far worse than the beating. He didn't understand it at all—he was the blood of the dragon, he was far more fun and exciting than his studious older cousin yet the Alpha wasted his rut seed on this water-dull creature who barely made a sound outside what was expected of him.

He was so, so jealous that he wanted to snap his Omega cousin's neck right here and now.

"You think because you are his heir, you own him?" Aerion sneered, straightening in his saddle and his hand resting casually on the horse, "You are just a plaything for him, cousin. He only looks to you because you are there and you are obedient. Obedience can get quite boring for powerful men, can it not? What was it that happened last year? Our Velaryon cousin sought comfort in other Omegas because his own wife was an uninteresting thing that barely spoke. Sounds like a lot like a certain someone."

Aerion laughed sharply that drew the eyes of nearby squires. He enjoyed picking at his cousin's insecurities to peel back the layers of princely composure to find the soft and yielding Omega flesh beneath. He wanted to make his sweet smelling cousin cry right here in the tourney grounds. He wanted to ruin his composure before he even lifted a lance.

"Father cares for the reputation of our House."  Valarr replied stiffly and trying to maintain the high ground though his scent spiked with distress—sour milk and burnt sugar, "He expects us to act with honor and to not make light of our position as princes."

His violet eyes rolled so high up that they almost flew his eyebrows off.

"Honor is a fairytale told to the lowborn." Aerion retorted with his violet eyes flaring with a cruelty that was infamous in their bloodline. He spurred his horse slightly, making the beast dance sideways and forcing his cousin to take a step back to avoid being trampled by the armored hooves.  Aerion licked his lips, imagining the taste of victory and imagining his Alpha uncle dragging him into a pavilion afterwards. He let his gaze rake over Valarr's armor, sneering at the lack of ornamentation, "Tell me my dear cousin, does his cock still taste of me when he kisses you? Or does he wash his hands of my scent before he spreads you open?"

"Aerion!" His cousin hissed in the Common Tongue now and the it was the first real emotion the silver haired Omega had goaded out of his cousin.

He felt a trickle of slick leak from his own pussy, wetting the silk of his small clothes and it was a treacherous betrayal of his body that he blamed entirely on Valarr's presence. Being near another Omega, especially one that smelled so thoroughly claimed by the Alpha he coveted made Aerion's heady. He wanted to scrub his cousin's scent from the air and he wanted to be the only thing his uncle smelled.

"Watch me and try not to drip all over your black steel. We both know what display of power does to you, sweet cousin." With a cruel and dismissive laugh in Common Tongue, Aerion wheeled his horse around with the crimson silk of his cloak snapping in the wind like a lash. His cousin replied nothing in turn and he noticed the confused looks of folk around him—they did not understand the language of the dragons and his disdain for them only grew stronger.

Disgusting sheep.

He stood before Ser Humfrey's pavilion and taunted out with his sweet voice, "Come out, come out little knight. It's time you faced the dragon."

He stared down at Ser Humfrey's visage as the pudgy faced man came out to see his opponent. He wanted to snort because really? This was his opponent? What else could he expect from such a small time House? He kicked his horse into a trot, heading towards his own side. The lance felt light in his hand and the heat in his belly coiled tighter. He never feared the punishments and he craved the attention it brought. If being a problem was the only way to get his Alpha uncle's eyes off his boring son and onto Aerion, then he would do anything he could to ensure the Alpha looked at him.

He hated it—he hated the heat creeping up on his skin from the proximity to his Omega cousin and the memories that been brought him to heel from just it's mere naming. Matter of fact, he thought almost wrathfully as he urged his horse to gallop towards the other Omega knight, lets all have a fucking horrible day, shall we?

He aimed his lance downwards and the lance struck true—shredding through the horse's skin and he doesn't have to turn to see his Alpha uncle's grimacing face. As the horse grunted and neighed in agony, he could smell the sheer displeasure radiating off the dark haired Targaryen. Whatever, at least he did something exciting in this god forsaken tourney.

If only some peasant hadn't chucked a rock towards his helm.

The Great Hall of Ashford Castle was the epicenter of roasted buffet and the uninteresting scents of Betas and Omegas, it felt like a cage where everyone was forced to play nice for the sake of peace in the realm. He sat alone with his own silk robe being splash of violent crimson and black amidst the drab greys and browns of the lesser nobility, nursing a goblet of wine as if it were the blood of his enemies. The the smallfolk had bleated like terrified sheep during the joust after he had struck the horse of the Humfrey lad, their shrieks and horrified gasps echoing in his ears like a melody. The audacity of that peasant—the mud caked filth who had dared to fling a stone at a Prince of the Blood—still made Aerion's fingers twitch toward the dagger at his belt. He had wanted to ride the man down, to trample him into a paste of bone and gristle and to paint the tourney grounds red to teach them the cost of disrespect.

Only his uncle's voice had stayed his hand and the Alpha had taken control of the entire situation with a mere word to Lord Beesbury and Aerion who had been hit with the sudden spiking scent of his uncle's disappointment, had been forced to tuck his tail between his legs and return to his squire to be taken out of his armor. Now, he was forced to sit here in this awful feast and seethe like a cat who had been denied it's treats.

He was a dragon in human skin and he was being forced to dine with cattle. He loathed it so much he would rather be out there trekking through the lands searching for his siblings with his father.  The silver haired Omega took a long draught of Arbor gold, the sweet vintage doing little to wash away the bitter taste of perceived slight against his person from the small folk. He sulked as he watched with violet eyes as the sheep before him cheered and danced along with the sound of music. He glared at a serving girl who trembled as she refilled his cup, her hand shaking so badly a drop of wine splashed onto the table.

Stupid cunt.

He reached out with his hand moving with the speed of a dragon and pinched the tender flesh of her wrist, twisting hard enough to bruise with his violet eyes boring into hers until she whimpered and fled with stammered apologies and tears streaming down her face. It was a petty cruelty and it was a simple morsel to tide him over but it did not satiate the hunger gnawing at his belly.

His violet eyes inevitably drifted toward the high table where the true power of House Targrayen resided. There sat Baelor Breakspear, the Hand of the King, distinct in his dark dignity and an Alpha whose mere presence seemed to dim the torches around him. And there, hovering in his presence like a loyal little pup was Valarr. Aerion's lip curled in a sneer that was full of disgust and jealously, his pale eyes fluttering as he in took in the fit his dearest cousin had put on. His cousin's robe was of a deep absorbing black, the hem and sleeves embroidered with intricate red dragons that seemed to writhe in the candlelight and there it was the collar that drew the younger Omega's gaze—a thick band of black silk ribbon tied snugly around his cousin's pale throat marking him as Baelor's property.

All Omegas and Betas from House Targaryen were his uncle's property as the Alpha.

It was the mark of a cherished Omega given to the royal Omegas of House Targaryen and telling to the room that this creature belonged to the Alpha at his side, that the Omegas of House Targaryen belonged to Baelor Breakspear. All Omegas of Noble Houses wore such collars with the Betas wearing ribbons around their wrists rather than around their collars, Alphas had no such distinction needed as they were far too rare and often their mere presence spoke for them. His fair skinned hand drifted to his own neck, brushing the smooth texture of his red silk collar. It felt less like a mark of status and more like a noose tonight as his father, Maekar, was absent with his brothers were gods knew where.

The sight of Valarr leaning in to whisper something to his father and the way the Alpha inclined his head to listen sent a blade of jealousy through the silver haired Omega so potent it tasted like bile. He wanted his Alpha uncle to look at him, even if it was with rage and he wanted the Hand of the King to drag him out of the hall by this red silk collar and beat him until he couldn't stand, to acknowledge that Aerion was a problem that demanded his personal and physical attention.

Needing a target for the twisted feelings simmering beneath his skin, Aerion turned his attention to the serving boy trembling beside him with a pitcher of wine now that the servant girl was gone.

"You clumsy lackwit." Aerion hissed, his voice a silken thing that scared the servant boy half to death as he lashed out and backhanded the servant boy. The pitcher fell from the boy's hands, the clay vessel shattering against the stone floor and spraying dark red wine across the carefully laid out carpet like a fresh splattered wounds. The boy flinched, eyes widening in terror and the scent of his fear—acrid urine and sweat—wafting up to Aerion's nose. It was a pathetic and meager meal for a dragon but it soothed the itch in his palms slightly.

"Clean it up," Aerion commanded and leaned back in his chair to gleefully watch the boy scramble to his knees, "And if you spill a single drop on my boots, I'll have your hand for a trophy."

He enjoyed the way the nearby gossips quietened down and the way the minor lords averted their gazes fully terrified of drawing the Brightflame's ire. Fear was a delightful scent to an Omega like him who wanted absolute respect for his bloodline and for a moment he felt powerful again even if the high table ignored him.

"Oh goodness, is the prince alright?" Some fat Beta woman whispered near him, her mouth hidden behind her glimmering fan.

His violet eyed gaze snapped his older cousin just in time to see the Young Prince's constant polite demeanor slip. His dull cousin was engaged in conversation with the heir to House Manderly, a bloated young man with a face like a suet pudding and the Omega heir. Usually his cousin was the picture perfect of diplomatic grace like a boring statue of courtesy that he always itched to peel back though this time, he saw the impeding tension in Valarr's shoulders and the way his knuckles whitened as he gripped his goblet.

He barely stopped himself from flinching when Valarr turned on the Manderly heir, his lips pulling back in a snarl that was feral and completely out of character for the older Omega. The words were lost in the noise of the hall but Aerion could guess everything correctly if he tried hard enough—a sharp aggressive snap of the head and a flash of teeth, and a flare of nostrils. It was the sign of an Omega pushed to his limits, baring his teeth at the first thing that annoyed than him rather than endure dutifully. Aerion sat up straighter as he inhaled deeply and caught it—underneath the roasted pork and wine, there was a scent of distress from Valarr and it made the younger Omega's nose itch.

And his Alpha uncle had seen it.

The Alpha paused in his conversation with a Tyrell lord, his dark eyes sliding sideways to fix upon his son.

The silver haired Omega stood up with his crimson cloak swirling around him and leaving the scared serving boy to dab at the wine stains while he prowled through the hall, weaving between the tables with the arrogance of a cat walking through a kennel. He kept his eyes trained on Valarr, who had turned away from the stunned Manderly heir and was now staring at his plate with his chest rising and falling too quickly. The younger Omega could smell the shame radiating off his cousin now with a sour scent.

He approached the high table with a saunter, sliding into the empty space beside Valarr's chair and inching his way into the Omega's personal space with deliberate rudeness.

"Cousin," Aerion purred while leaning down so his lips were inches from Valarr's ear, "I saw that. Did the Manderly walrus try to bite you or is the heat finally melting your brain?" He rested a hand on the back of Valarr's chair, his fingers drumming an irritating pace against the wood.

Up close his cousin even more distressed and there was a sheen of sweat on his brown brows that had nothing to do with the heat of the night and the black silk collar seemed to stand out starkly against his flushed skin. His cousin jerked slightly at his closeness, his mismatched eyes darting up with a mixture of annoyance and genuine anxiety.

"Go away, Aerion." Valarr muttered with his voice strained, lacking its usual calm cadence. He didn't look at Aerion and kept his gaze fixed on the table with his hands clenched in his lap. "I have no patience for your yapping tonight. You've done enough damage to our name for one day."

Aerion laughed softly, "Damage? I did something fun for these lords for once. You on the other hand though, you just snapped at an allied House's heir like a common bitch fighting. What would Uncle Baelor say?" He let his gaze flick toward the Hand who was still talking with the Tyrell lord but whose posture had stiffened with his attention clearly divided, "Uh oh, your dear father is looking this way. Looks like he caught his son disgracing House Targaryen."

"You mean you, right?" Valarr hissed, finally turning to face Aerion, his eyes flashing. "What did you did to the Ser Humfrey's horse was utterly disgraceful and it will reflect poorly on us. Have you ever thought of that?"

His violet eyes flickered to Valarr's throat collared by that black ribbon. He leaned in closer lowering his voice to a whisper in High Valyrian, shutting out the prying ears of the Westerosi lords, "Look at you trembling in your pretty black silk. Does he tie it tight? I wonder if he makes it tighter each time you make a mistake."

Aerion reached out with his fingers and brushed the edge of the black ribbon at Valarr's neck. The feather light touch made his older cousin flinch as his chair scraped against the stone floor with a harsh screech.

"Don't touch me." Valarr snapped in their mother tongue, his voice rising enough to turn heads at the nearby tables and he slapped the younger Omega's hand away. Aerion grinned and withdrew his hand slowly, savoring the shock on the dark haired Targaryen's face.

"So sensitive." Aerion teased with his eyes glinting, "Maybe you're acting out on purpose, hoping he'll drag you away and remind you of your place."

"You are sick." His Omega cousin whispered, "You are a sickness in our House, Aerion."

He just laughed a low throaty sound, "He saw everything just now."

"He thinks nothing of it," Valarr lied though his gaze darted involuntarily toward his Alpha father. The Alpha was indeed looking in their direction now, his dark eyes unreadable across the distance. "He is occupied with matters of the realm. Unlike you, he has responsibilities beyond preening and murdering innocent animals."  He knew just as Aerion did that an Alpha missed nothing regarding his pack, especially his own Omega offspring.

"Please, your words are getting weaker by the day. Find something else to insult me upon." Aerion whispered lowly, "It must be exhausting, pretending to be the perfect heir when all you really want is to be on your knees."

Valarr's fair and handsome face flushed a deep red and his scent flowered like a flower in spring, "You are disgusting. Just because you are desperate for his attention doesn't mean I am."

The words fucking hit a nerve.

"Desperate?" Aerion mused lowly in the Common Tongue, tilting his head with his silver hair rippling under the candlelight, "Perhaps. But at least I am honest about what I am. Do you not hope he would take you back to his chambers? What if he make you take that pretty black robe off and bend you over the table? I wager you're hoping for it."

"Stop it, cousin." Valarr warned with his voice low though his eyes were glassy, "You need to stop speaking of such matters out in the open like this. If he finds out that you're—"

They both knew his dear dark haired cousin wouldn't run tattle-tale, it wasn't the Targaryen way.

"Tell him," Aerion goaded his cousin with his violet eyes wide and manic, his Targaryen beauty making him seem far more otherworldly,  "Please, tell him. Maybe then he will look at me. Maybe then he will come over here and put his hands on me instead of ignoring me like I'm a piece of furniture."

He hated his older cousin for having the black collar sewn with the mark of the Alpha, for being his uncle's firstborn son and for having the right to sit at his Alpha uncle's right hand. Aerion continued, "And if he decides to come over, you'll just sit there and take his scolding like a good little Omega won't you?"

It was thrilling.

For a moment they were the only two people in the hall—two Omegas locked in a vicious fight for the scraps of an Alpha's attention. He felt a sense of twisted kinship immediately followed by revulsion because he didn't want to be like Valarr. He wanted the older boy dead and gone so that his Alpha uncle would finally see that Aerion was the only one worthy of being his Queen consort. He reached out, his fingers brushing against the black silk of Valarr's collar yet again and the older Omega looked ready to throw Aerion over the table.

He stopped as soon as his Alpha uncle stood up and bid farewell to the other lords at the High Table for the night. His mouth went dry as the Alpha peered at the two of them with his own mismatched eyes with a gesture that was evident to follow. Both he and Valarr immediately stood up like obedient dogs for the Targaryen Alpha, their steps light as they fell behind the older man's steps. The silence that hung between the three of them as they walked the corridors of Ashford Castle was heavy. His uncle Baelor walked ahead with his cloak billowing with a grace that Aerion envied with a burning sickness in his belly.

The Alpha did not look back, nor did he need to as he knew the two Omegas would stumble over themselves to obey him. Valarr scurried a half step behind his father, his head bowed and letting out a scent of sour anxiousness that made the silver haired Omega's nose wrinkle.

Aerion walked with his chin high though his heart hammered a frantically against his ribs. He watched the back of his uncle's neck, the way the dark hair curled against the skin and imagined his tiny fangs sinking into that strong muscle. When they reached the heavy oak door of the Hand's guest  chambers, his uncle merely jerked his chin—a silent gesture that sent a shiver down to Aerion's quim. His uncle moved with deliberate calm to the heavy desk, organizing parchments, his scent so tightly controlled it was like a wall of ice—cold and perfected.

"Wait." was the single command his Alpha uncle issued like they two misbehaving cats he intended to straighten before he disappeared into the adjoining bedchamber to attend to matters unseen. 

As the heavy door clicked shut, the silver haired Omega took a deep whiff of the room as it smelled like the older Alpha's scent. It soothed something in his chest, telling him that he was safe and protected by his Alpha uncle who would rather punish Aerion with his own hands than let anyone else do it. He leaned back against the doorframe for a moment, his chest heaving slightly from the sudden sharp drop in adrenaline because being summoned here with just a tilt of his uncle Baelor's head felt like being called to heel as a dragon. His violet eyes tracked the dark haired Omega, who was pacing the center of the room like a nervous cat, the black silk of his robes rustling with every agitated step.

Valarr spun around with his mismatched eyes wide and hissing, "This is your fault. If you didn't rile me up—if you hadn't done that to the poor horse—Father wouldn't be looking at us like that."

With a resigned sigh that sounded more like a whimper, his Omega cousin turned away with his fingers fumbling with the intricate clasps of his black robe. His cousin's hands were already moving to the fastenings of his black robe, his fingers fumbling with the intricate clasps in his haste to obey the unspoken rule of the chamber.  Their Alpha uncle decreed that his Omegas would wear nothing but their silken collars in the privacy of their chambers, something instilled in them with punishments and beatings. Aerion walked over leaned back against a heavy wooden table, crossing his arms over his crimson robe and watching his cousin work himself up into a puddle mess of nerves.

"You give me too much credit, sweet cousin." Aerion purred, his voice laced with condescension, "The beast is just a horse, so what if I killed it? Ser Humfrey can just find another one." He watched with amusement as Valarr struggled with a particularly stubborn knot, the older Omega's breathing growing shallow and rapid.

Valarr ignored the taunt, finally freeing himself from the heavy black robe. It pooled around his ankles like a puddle of ink and leaving him shivering in the cool air of the chamber. The silver haired Omega watched critically as his older cousin stripped away the linen undershirt, revealing a body that was soft which was a contrast to Aerion's own willowy frame. His cousin possessed the typical Omega softness, his chest carrying small soft slabs of meat that were not quite breasts but certainly not the pectorals of a Beta or Alpha male. They were like a growing girl's, puffy and tender-looking tipped with nipples the color of dark berries. They stood out against his pale skin, hardening slightly in the cold air.

Aerion's own nipples were a delicate and pale pink and he knew they were prettier, just as he knew his body was far more of a pleasure than his dull cousin's could be.

"You look so soft, cousin." He whispered before he pushed himself off the table to circle the other Omega, "Like soft bread dough. Uncle does seem to enjoy kneading you in our nests."

Valarr flushed red while stepping out of his breeches with a clumsy hop. He was now fully naked save for the thick black silk collar that encircled his throat—a mark of ownership that made the silver haired Omega seethe with jealously and a bit of desire pulsating in his quim. It was such a wonder how his boring cousin was so strict and quiet when in front of others yet blushed like a maiden on her wedding night in the privacy of their chambers.

Between his cousin's thighs nestled in a patch of dark, trimmed hair sat a tiny useless cock, no larger than a thumb and soft as velvet. It was utterly incapable of penetration, a cute little decoration above the main event. His uncle preferred to have them groomed so both Aerion and Valarr often spent time shaving and trimming their hairs even down there. He remembers how displeased the older Alpha had been when the silver haired Omega had cut off his long locks of hair without consulting him first, the Alpha had adored to pull on that hair after all.

Beneath the tiny cock, where a Beta or Alpha would house their testicles was the smooth slit of his quim. The pussy lips were slightly darker than the surrounding skin, shut tight in his anxiety. The younger Omega remembers the taste of that slit on his tongue whenever their Alpha was far too busy to entertain them and they needed release. Aerion felt a twitch in his own small cock stirring against the silk of his breeches, his own quim dampening at the sight of Valarr's naked body.

He hated how easily wet both father and son got him.

"I am not soft." Valarr muttered, crossing his arms over his soft chest in a futile attempt to hide his body though he knew better than to cover his pussy in this room, "Father says I am—I am as I should be."

"As you should be." Aerion mocked in High Valyrian, finally beginning to undress himself. He took his time, making a performance of it and unbuckling his robe's belt with a slow clack of leather and metal. He wanted his older cousin—second in line to the iron throne to watch.

"Tell me, cousin." The younger boy asked as he slid his doublet off his shoulders, letting it fall to the floor in a heap of red and black. "Do you spread those legs for anyone else? Does the Manderly Omega boy get a peek at your pretty little slit? Or maybe one of the Kingsguard?"

He knew the answer, of course.

His cousin was a prude, a dutiful little monk who worshipped at the feet of his father's approval. He stepped out of his trousers, kicking them away and standing revealed in his own glory—lithe, pale, and unmistakably Targaryen, his silver-gold pubic hair glinting in the candlelight, his red silk ribbon collar vivid against his throat.

Valarr spluttered, his face contorting with genuine shock and revulsion, "No! Seven hells not!" He cried out, his voice enraged at the mere suggestion, "I would never! I only let Father touch me. It is forbidden! It is improper! I am properly bred. I would never let anyone else touch me."

It was a question born of intense jealousy and Aerion needed to know if his dull cousin had secrets—if he had experienced pleasures or degradations that Aerion had been denied. He needed to know if the perfect heir was a whore in the dark.

Valarr's devotion was sickeningly clad in a tight box and he was the perfect Omega, saving every part of himself for the Alpha who sired him. Aerion sneered at the Omega with his beautiful face but inside a knot of tension loosened.

Good.

If the sweet smelling Valarr had been with others, Aerion might have killed him out of sheer envy.

Aerion himself had never known the touch of another as his body was a piece dedicated to Baelor Breakspear. His first heat, his first drop of slick and his first everything had been under the heavy hand and heavy cock of his uncle even if Valarr was always there as the third point in the triangle, always the softer favored pillow for his Alpha uncle to land on.

"Good." Aerion said sharply, "Because if you had, I would tell him. And he would tear you apart."

He circled Valarr studying him from every angle and the resemblance to uncle was striking, almost disorienting. Standing there naked, Valarr was a softer  Omega version of the Hand. He had the same dark hair though Valarr's was marked by that striking streak of silver gold that was a flaw in the obsidian. He had the same jawline though less rigid and the same mismatched eyes. Looking at the older Omega was like looking at a mirror image of the man the silver haired Omega lusted after.

"You look just like him." The younger menace murmured stopping behind Valarr and whispering into the nape of his neck, right above the black ribbon. "It's disgusting. And it's perfect. No wonder he keeps you close. It must be like fucking a younger and tender version of himself."

His cousin scoffed, "And you? Have you touched others?"

"I save myself for the dragon." Aerion said, his voice dropping to reverent sigh that bordered on love, "Only uncle is the only worthy worthy as the sole Alpha of our family. Grandfather is spent and has no interest in the younger generation but uncle, he looks after all of us."

The silver haired Omega reached out, his fingers trailing ghost like over his cousin's shoulder down to the soft swell of his tiny tits. He felt Valarr tremble under the touch, how funny. The heir to the heir was so receptive to simple touches it made the dragon inside of him want to devour him whole.

"What do the people whisper? That uncle kissed upon your face when you were born and called you his little gift from the fourteen flames?" Aerion murmured, his gaze dropping to his cousin's quim, "You have such a little cock and such a pathetic looking pussy," He gestured vaguely to Valarr's tiny cock. "I put a wager you cry every time he pushes inside, don't you? You weep and you whine."

He remembered the feeling of being stretched himself, the burning fullness that bordered lined on agony and how it made his mind go white.

"Father acts with care," Valarr whispered back. "He doesn't hurt me like I've heard most men hurt their Omegas. He is not a monster to us—he treats us sweetly when we behave."

"You mean he treats you sweetly. He always slaps me or scuffs me like I'm sort of wolf pup rather than his nephew." Aerion corrected sharply, grabbing Valarr's chin and forcing him to look up. "Matarys and you, you're both the apple of his eye and he adores you both more than anything."

More than me most days, he bitterly thinks.

He let his cousin go with a shove, turning away to inspect himself in a polished silver mirror on the wall. He admired the line of his throat, the way the red ribbon brought out beauty of his silver hair and bright violet eyes. He ran a hand down his own flat stomach, his fingers brushing the soft silver curls between his legs. His own pussy was waking up and a slickness beginning to gather at the pussy hole He was wetter than his dullard of a cousin, he was sure of it.

He was the better and prettier Omega of House Targaryen.

His cousin rolled his eyes at Aerion's vanity and murmured, "You preen more than a noble Omega lady. I hope Father doesn't make us wear a dress again."

The memory of the time his Alpha uncle made the two of them wear silken dresses as punishment for not doing well in their studies made his mouth water. He had felt beautiful, he had been kissed senseless and fucked on all fours while Valarr waited for his own turn wearing a purple silk dress. "I don't want to watch you again." Valarr muttered, hugging himself, "You make too much noise. You scream like you're dying."

"That's called passion, sweet cousin." Aerion sneered, turning back to face him. "Something you wouldn't understand with your muffled whimpers into the pillow."

Suddenly the heavy latch of the door opened.

Both Omegas froze and Aerion felt his breath hitch as the scent of overwhelming Alpha musk crowded the room before the door even fully opened. The silver haired Omega's tiny cock gave a pathetic and eager little twitch and he felt a fresh wave of slick coat his inner thighs. The door clicked shut, sealing the three of them inside the chambers and his violet eyes bore onto the Targaryen Alpha standing before them. The Alpha was magnificent and the kind of handsome that made Aerion's mouth go dry and his palms dampen with sweat. His uncle's face was long and angular, the high cheekbones and narrow jaw softened only by the meticulously groomed salt-and-pepper beard that framed his mouth.

The grey in his hair in the older man's head made him look of a mountain touched by snow rather than an old man of his age. He wore his handsomeness as easily as he wore the black doublet of heavy fabric that encased his broad shoulders. The garment was severe and structured to emphasize the width of his chest, fastened with silver-toned clasps shaped like stylized dragons that gleamed in the candlelight. The Hand of the King pin, a golden hand clasping a dagger, sat near his right shoulder was a dreadful reminder that this man held the realm in his palm just as easily as he held the fate of the two naked Omegas kneeling before him.

Everyone knew it really was Baelor Breakspear that ruled the realm rather than King Daeron who spent his time frolicking off somewhere with his lady wife, the Dorne Queen.

Aerion felt his knees hit the soft carpet with a practiced ease with the muscle memory of submission taking over instantly. Beside him his dull cousin did the same, folding his body downward until he was a obedient cat with his mismatched eyes fixed on the patterns of the rug. The silver haired Omega kept his head lowered but his violet eyes darted upward through his pale lashes, unable to tear his glance away from the Alpha who held their lives in his calloused palms.

The Alpha did not speak immediately which was somehow worse than the man just simply bursting into anger but their Alpha never did, Baelor Breakspear never lost his temper even in the face of great peril to their realm. His uncle moved slowly towards them with his boots thudding softly against the carpet, each step sounding like a bell of the tower. The Alpha stopped directly in front of them, his towering form casting a long shadow that swallowed both Omegas. Aerion could see the fine texture of the black doublet, the way the fabric strained slightly across his uncle's chest as he breathed.

But his Alpha uncle's attention was not on the silver haired Omega. It was entirely focused on the man's firstborn son. He hated how even in disgrace, Valarr held the sun's attention. The jealously he felt was absolutely lethal and he wanted to snarl, to bite his Alpha's ankle for a scrap of attention but he was left frozen as the pheromones from the Alpha told him to be obedient and to be good.

His dull cousin was utterly still like a doll, his pale skin flushing under the weight of that heavy gaze of his Alpha father and his scent souring with a fear that was palpable. He looked small when just a night before he was jousting against other Omegas and Betas of other Noble Houses in his black sleek Targaryen armor, his soft and feminine chest rising and falling, the black ribbon around his neck the only bit of cloth on the Omega.

The Alpha reached down with his movements deceptively gentle. His hands were large and weathered from years of wielding swords and quills who now cupped his firstborn's face. The roughness of his skin against Valarr's smoothness was a sight that made Aerion squirm almost pathetically; it always riled him up whenever he saw his older Alpha touch any of their soft and youthful skin. He tilted his baby boy's head up and forcing the dark haired Omega to meet his dark gaze. His uncle Baelor's eyes were mismatched just like his son's and his handsome face was framed by fine lines that spoke of wisdom and weariness. They shared the same mismatched eyes, the same dark hair though Valarr's face was a softer and weaker echo of the Alpha's visage.

Oh, how Aerion loathed to see the similatry between the two—it was a sight that would always slide a blade between his ribs because he knew he could never be as close as his cousin was to the Alpha. His cousin was of his Alpha's direct blood, he was the one being groomed to be King and he was the one who shared the beauty of the Alpha in his own soft face.

He wishes he had been uncle Baelor's son.

He wishes he had been the man's Omega wife.

There was a profound disappointment in those older mismatched eyes that seemed to age his sullen cousin ten years in a second. Valarr leaned into the touch instinctively with a whimper trapping itself in his throat, his blue and earth brown eyes wide and glassy with watery tears. His uncle's thumbs brushed over the dark haired Omega's cheekbones, tracing the line of his jaw and lingering near the jaw that mirrored his own though Valarr's was softer.

The Alpha murmured, "You know why you are down there, do you not?"

His weepy eyed cousin swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bobbing against the black silk collar. He whispered and his voice was barely audible, "Yes, Father."

The Alpha drew his palm back and snapped his hand across his firstborn son's face in a hard backhand.

Crack.

The sound was sickeningly loud in the quiet room, the sound of flesh hurting flesh with a cruelty that was rarely bestowed upon the dark haired Omega. The force of it snapped Valarr's head to the side with his neck twisting violently and a wet gasp was torn from the Omega's throat, barely catching himself with a hand on the carpet to keep from sprawling like some undignified heathen.

Aerion flinched as his own breath hitched as his heart dropped to his stomach like a piece of metal. His uncle rarely struck Valarr because the Omega was the golden child, the obedient dog who anticipated his uncle's needs before they were spoken. His uncle was heavy handed when it came to the silver haired Omega but never his own Omega sons who were one dutiful and the other sweet as a flower. To see him struck—and struck hard—was like being told the King Daeron did not love his lady wife the Queen. A bloom of angry red began to rise instantly on Valarr's pale cheek, the imprint of the Alpha's fingers and rings searing itself into the skin.

His cousin made a a high-pitched noise of whimper, his hand fluttering up to hover near his cheek but never daring to touch it, never daring to cover the mark his father had put there.

"I raised you better than that." His Alpha uncle said with his voice utterly calm and devoid of the heat that usually accompanied anger. He didn't raise his voice as he didn't need to. The disappointment in the older man's eyes were enough to curdle both Omegas stomachs with shame and dread. His uncle reached out and grabbed Valarr's chin again, forcing him to look back at him again "Is that how the future King behaves? Is that how my son behaves?"

Valarr's eyes were swimming with tears, the mismatched irises shimmering with hurt and shame. A single tear dropped from his blue eye and it ran through the red mark on his cheek and the silver haired Omega wanted to lick it up and sniff at the other Omega's despair. The older Omega scrambled back into a kneeling position and shuffling his knees on the carpet to realign himself at his lord father's feet. He was weeping now with quiet tears falling over the redness on his face.

"I—I am sorry, Father." The true blood Omega choked out and he looked up with his eyes pleading, "It was—the—banquet. And Aerion—he was goading me. I lost my head. I didn't mean to shame you."

Aerion wanted to scoff.

Blaming him? Typical.

His uncle ignored the mention of the silver haired Omega entirely, his focus completely locked on the failure of his heir.

"Do not compare yourself to your cousin. He is my youngest brother's second born son—he is not the heir and he is not the heir's child." His uncle Baelor stated with his tone dismissive as if discussing a misbehaving hound. His uncle reached down and grabbed a handful of his cousin's dark hair and yanking his head back until Valarr's neck was exposed, the black silk collar straining against his throat, "You are my heir. You are the future of this House. When people look at you, they should see the prince they long for."

Valarr sobbed openly now, his hands gripping his father's larger wrist to hold him there. He looked up at his lord father with adoring and terrified eyes. It was the look of a dog that had been kicked but still sought its master's hand. His uncle straightened up, towering over him once more and wiping his hand on his doublet as if Valarr's failure had left a stain on his skin.

"Please." His miserable cousin begged as his scent intensified with the pungent sweetness of slick, "Please, Alpha Father. I will be better. I promise."

The sight of his cousin—so composed in public now reduced to a weeping mess of shame—made the younger Omega's belly ache with need.

"You are my Omega son." His uncle whispered with his voice softer and used his other hand to stroke the red mark on his son's cheek, soothing the pain he had just inflicted, "And you are my pride. You rarely disappoint me so, I was taken aback by your behavior today."

His uncle's fingers trailed down from the cheek to the neck, hooking a finger under the black ribbon collar. He tugged it and tightening it against his baby boy's neck, making the younger man gasp for air. "But you didn't mean it, did you? You did both did not mean to disappoint me."

Valarr nodded frantically, his face pressed against his father's hand and kissing the palm, kissing the calluses. "I deserve to be punished, father. I should not have lost my temper today." He whispered, his head bowed so low his forehead nearly touched the carpet, "Whatever you deem fit, Alpha Father."

These two are psychotic, the silver haired Targaryen thought breathlessly. He felt ignored and sidelined and the jealousy was mingled with a confusing relief. He wasn't the one being looked at with those disappointed eyes. He wasn't the one with the stinging cheek. But oh, how he wanted to be. He wanted his uncle to grab his silver hair, to slap him and to keep him pinned underneath his scrutiny He looked at his older cousin's naked back, at the way the muscles rippled with tension and hated him. He hated him for being the favorite, for being the one his Baelor cared enough to discipline so personally. 

Aerion shifted his knees, the friction sending a twinge of pleasure through his quim and his own slick beginning to make the inner thighs sticky. He was waiting for the scraps of the Alpha's attention, hoping that once his uncle was finished with his dull son that he might have some fire left for his little silver dragon.

With a mere flick of his uncle's heavy hand toward his waist, his intent for Valarr was conveyed the man's son obeyed it with the frantic desperation of a starving dog. The silver haired Omega watched from his kneeling position with his breath shallow as his cousin scrambled forward on his knees. The carpet burned against the dark haired Omega's shins but he didn't seem to notice as he seemed far more interested in pleasing his lord father. Valarr's fingers usually so adept at courtly gestures trembled violently as he fumbled with the laces and buttons. 

Baelor stood with his face impassive and offering no help as usual with only his silence to pair it with the Omegas. The younger Omega felt the pressing need and an urge to shove Valarr aside and do it himself just to end the agonizing wait but he knew if he tried to anything like that, he would get even more punishment on top of the ones he earned with his display today. When the final lace gave way and the breeches were shoved down past his uncle's hips, the scent of the Alpha hit them both—it was the scent musk, salt and parchment that no amount of bathing could wash away.

His Alpha uncle's dick sprang free from its confinement and it was a heavy and mean looking dick, a slab of meat that would be uncomfortable even for an Omega to bounce on. It was thick, the width of a wrist and veined with ropes of blue and purple that pulsed slowly. Both of the Omega's mouths instantly watered, this was the dick that was shoved down their throats since they were younger. 

The head was an angry crimson mushroom, glistening with a bead of pre-cum that the silver haired Omega wanted to crawl over and lick away on his tongue. It didn't point skyward with the eager twitchy energy of a boy's erection and it instead hung heavy and rigid, bobbing slightly with the weight of it. His Alpha uncle did not touch it and simply looked down at his firstborn, whose face was now level with the Alpha's dick. The dark haired Omega stared at it, his mismatched eyes wide and glassy with his breathing hitching in his throat. 

To Aerion, it looked like a monster and a dragon in its own right and the sight of it made his own holes ache with a sudden, wet emptiness that infuriated him. He sometimes imagined being a silver pearlescent colored dragon being bred by a black colored dragon on top of him, he sometimes wondered if he would be able to lay strong hatchlings to carry the bloodline of dragons. His uncle reached down, his hand encompassing his dick and with an almost lazy motion, he slapped the heavy meat against Valarr's cheek. The sound was wet and sharp with the heavy head of the dick leaving a smear of clear fluid on Valarr's pale skin. His dull cousin flinched, his eyes squeezing shut but he didn't pull away. His cousin leaned into it, nuzzling his face against the thick warmth of his father's dick and treating it with more reverence than he would a Valyrian steel sword.

"Open." His uncle Baelor commanded with a low rumble and it wasn't a request. 

His cousin's jaw unhinged instantly with his lips parting wide, his tongue flattening against the floor of his mouth in preparation. He looked pathetic as knelt there with his mouth agape, the black ribbon collar stark against his neck and just waiting for his Alpha father to show down the dick that had made him. He hated how easily Valarr took to the position, how natural he looked on his knees ready to service the his lord father who had just struck him.

If there was a trophy for being an annoyingly dutiful and loyal son, Valarr would have won it each time by a leap. The Alpha tangled his fingers into Valarr's dark hair, his grip tightening near the roots. His thumb traced the rare silver-gold streak that ran through his beloved son's locks—a mark of the dragon blood that Baelor himself lacked in his hair but possessed entirely in his spirit. It was a possessive gesture of a dragon preening over it's offspring's perfections and it made the silver haired Omega so pissed because hello? He looked more Targaryen than his stupid cousin did but his uncle somehow seemed more fascinated with his son than his nephew. 

The Alpha guided his son's head forward or rather, pulled him onto the dick. The head slipped through Valarr's lips, stretching them taut and pushed past the ring of his teeth. The kneeling Omega gagged immediately with a wet  choking sound as the thick head hit the soft palate and kept going. His uncle was brutal as he forced the thickness of it down inch by inch filling his son's mouth and then his throat. Valarr's eyes watered, tears spilling over to mix with the slick on his cheek as his hands fluttered uselessly at his sides before gripping his Alpha father's thighs to hold onto something.

"Relax your throat." Their Alpha instructed with his tone clinical as if he were correcting a squire's stance in the yard rather than fucking his heir's face, "Don't scrape your teeth. You are not a child, you know how to serve." The man began to move his hips in a slow way that showed no concern for his son's comfort. He fucked his son's face and every thrust forced a muffled whimper from Valarr's throat, the sound trapped around the girth of the Alpha's dick.

The Omega's head bobbed back and forth controlled entirely by his father's grip on his hair. The friction would be terrible and Aerion knew the feeling of waking up with a raw throat, the lining scraped by the relentless roughness of an Alpha's pleasure. Tomorrow his cousin's voice would be raspy with his ability to swallow lowered—his cousin was depraved just as the silver haired Omega was because right where his cousin's legs were spread on the carpet, his pussy twitched obscenely. A clear and viscous slick began to leak from Valarr's quim, dripping onto the expensive Myrish rug and the scent of aroused Omega blooming in the air to mix with the Alpha's musk. 

It made Aerion's head heady with arousal, his tongue dry and he swallowed just to try mimic what his cousin was feeling. He watched the saliva pool at the corners of the older Omega's mouth, watching it drip down onto uncle Baelor's pubic hair.

"You look like you were starving for it, cousin." Aerion snorted out, his voice cutting through the slurping sounds of the fellatio, "The great Baelor Breakspear, the realm's protector, stuffing his cock down his own son's throat. Perhaps this is just another Targaryen tradition we keep behind closed doors, we wouldn't want the High Septons to find now do we?" His slender fingers trailed down to his own pussy, not yet touching it because he was not permitted, "My cousin loves it. He's leaking all over your carpet, Uncle. Your heir is nothing but a hole for you to use."

His uncle ignored him and his words as if he were a mere fly and focused solely on his baby boy. His uncle's grip on Valarr's hair tightened, pulling the  darrk hair with silver-gold streak taut until his cousin's scalp must have been in pain. He increased the pace, his hips snapping forward with more force now. 

Slap. Slap. 

The sound of his pelvis hitting his son's chin was loud and Valarr's eyes rolled back in his head, his face turning a mottled red from the lack of air. He was drowning in his father, overwhelmed by the sheer size and musk of the Alpha. His uncle Baelor grunted like he was using his son like a sleeve. His hand tightened in Valarr's hair and, twisting the same dark hair of his own strands painfully to angle Valarr's head better. "Deeper," His uncle growled looking down at the wet and messy mouth around his thick dick, "You are shallow today, boy. Have you forgotten how to swallow?" 

He pulled slightly and withdrawing almost to the tip, allowing his son a split second to gasp for air desperately before slamming back in to the pubic bone. Valarr's entire body convulsed and the sound was wet and obscene with his uncle humming approvingly, "Good boy. Make yourself and use your tongue."

His annoying cousin was an utter mess as snot ran from his nose, mingling with the tears and the saliva that coated his chin. The poor thing couldn't swallow, couldn't breathe and could only take the punishment his Alpha father was giving him. His hands clawed at his father's thighs and he tried to accommodate the thrusts, tried to open his throat wider with his Omega instincts nudging him at him to please the Alpha to take the knot and to be good. Valarr's pussy was dripping and forming a small puddle forming on the expensive carpet beneath him. The scent was cloying—sweet, ripe Omega slick mixed with the sharp musk of an aroused Alpha and Aerion felt dizzy with the smell of it. He watched as his uncle's knuckles turned white where he gripped Valarr's hair. 

"Do not pull away." His Alpha uncle warned the kneeling Omega with his voice straining, "If you pull away, we start over. Do you want that?" 

Valarr shook his head frantically as best he could with a dick down his throat with a muffled noise of obedience. He forced himself to go limp and let his father use his throat as much as he wanted. His uncle buried himself deep in his son's throat and the Omega made a high keening noise that was a sound of pure distress. His uncle held him there savoring the tightness and then with a sharp exhale, the Alpha pulled out. The sound of the suction breaking was wet and loud—pop—and the dark haired Omega collapsed forward coughing and retching. Strings of thick, ropy saliva connected his open mouth to his father's glistening dick and breaking as he fell.

Valarr curled in on himself, his forehead resting on the carpet, his shoulders heaving as he gasped for air. He coughed violently with his throat raw and abused and spitting up the excess saliva and bile. Aerion stared with wide eyes with the stillness of a dragon being cornered by even a bigger dragon. 

"You did well, my sweet son." His uncle whispered looking down at his dick which was now slick with Valarr's spit. The Alpha reached down to wipe his soaked dick on his son's hair, cleaning himself on the silken strands of dark hair with the silver-gold streak he had just been pulling. 

His dullard cousin wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing the fluids across his cheek and looking up at his father with mismatched eyes of blue and brown that were red-rimmed and bloodshot, "Thank you, Father." Valarr wheezed and he sounded like he had swallowed broken glass, "Thank you for—for the lesson." 

It was the most pathetic thing Aerion had ever heard and it made his blood boil with a swirl of hatred and envy so potent he thought he might burst into flames right there on the rug and then his uncle finally turned his mismatched eyes—one dark as a storm and the other a piercing blue—away from his heir and onto Aerion. The silver haired Omega felt the weight of that gaze like a suffocating blanket of Alpha that instantly suppressed his earlier bravado. 

Oh, fuck. He thought.

His Alpha stood tall with his his chest heaving slightly from the exertion of using his baby boy, his hard dick still glistening with the mess of his son's mouth. Aerion had wanted the attention, hadn't he? He had preened and postured, killed a beast and mocked a prince just to have his handsome Uncle look at him and the sudden attention made his throat go dry. He was kneeling on the carpet, his red silk collar feeling suddenly too tight and his naked skin prickling as the Alpha took a step toward him. 

"You have a lot to say tonight, nephew." His uncle Baelor whispered dangerously low and lacking the parental softness he had shown his son, "You killed a horse today, Aerion. A senseless waste and then you come here and yap like a lapdog at your betters."

His uncle didn't stop moving until he towered over the silver haired Omega as his shadow engulfed the younger Targaryen. He looked down with a blankness that was terrifying on his usually dignified face. "My son is weak to your taunts because he tries too hard to be good. But I am not my son and I am not good when my patience is tested." His gaze flicked over Aerion's shoulder to where his firstborn son was still recovering, wiping his face. 

"Get behind him, Valarr." His uncle commanded the way he usually held a room withholding their breath whenever he spoke, "Hold him properly. If he squirms, you will answer for it. He squirmed the last time and I am in no mood to chase him around the room."

Aerion froze as he heard the shuffling of knees on the carpet. He felt the heat of his Omega cousin's body before he felt the touch—the older Omega crawling into position behind him, his breath hitching and smelling of sweat, tears and the sour note of his cousin's distress from having his throat used by his father. It was a humiliating to be restrained by the very cousin he had just mocked, to have Valarr's sweaty and trembling hands grip his shoulders and arms. It would have been better to just have the silver haired Omega beat than be subjugated to this and the Alpha knew it.  His cousin's naked chest soft with his tiny tits pressed against Aerion's back, his lithe legs hooking around Aerion's waist to hold him down in the kneeling position. 

"Don't move," Valarr whispered with his hoarse voice, "He'll hurt us both if you move." 

Valarr smelled of distress and of slick and of the saliva and pre-cum that still coated his chin, "Don't fight him, cousin. Just take it and don't make him angrier." 

Aerion wanted to thrash and to throw his cousin off, to scream that he was the Brightflame and would not be restrained by a weeping failure of an heir. He wanted to snap at him and to bite the hands holding him. "Uncle, I—" Aerion started trying to summon some semblance of his usual arrogance, to charm or argue his way out of the severe punishment he was bound to get but his uncle Baelor didn't let him finish. 

The Alpha's hand gripped Aerion's jaw in a tight hold, squeezing the cheeks until Aerion's lips puckered fish-like, "Silence."

His uncle reached down to grab his jaw with his thumb digging into the soft flesh of Aerion's cheek, forcing his mouth open. His uncle thrust his hips forward and driving the thick, blunt head of his dick past the silver haired Omega's  lips with a roughness that made his violet eyes water instantly. It tasted of Valarr—of saliva, mucus and the faint tang of the Alpha's pre-cum and it was a degrading thing that Aerion was forced to swallow. 

His uncle used his mouth like a whore's mouh, slamming into the back of his throat with zero regard for his ability to breathe and the Omega could only think he's going to suffocate me like this. 

"Why do you give me and your father so much trouble?" The Alpha heir questioned looking down at his nephew's beautiful face which was already turning a mottled red, "We have tried everything to discipline you and it never seems to stick."  He grabbed a handful of Aerion's silver-gold curls, yanking his head back to straighten the windpipe, allowing him to bury the shaft deeper, "Clean your cousin's mess off me."

Valarr's arms tightened around his chest, holding him in place as he tried to recoil from the face fucking his uncle was giving him. Aerion gagged as his hands scrabbled uselessly at his cousin's forearms, his nails digging into his cousin's skin but he was trapped between the anvil of the Omega behind him and the hammer of the Alpha in front. 

His uncle's dick was thicker than Aerion remembered or perhaps it just felt that way because of how harsh it was down his throat. It scraped against his tongue, the ridge of the head catching on his throat and triggering wave after wave of nausea that he had to suppress. His uncle fucked his face with a meanness he usually did not had and the sound of the older man's balls hitting Aerion's chin was far too loud. His violet eyes vision blurred, his eyes rolling back as he tried to focus on anything other than the suffocating fullness in his throat. He tried to make a sound and a plea or a word of submission but all that came out was a strangled choke. 

"You are always so loud. You are even louder than your sisters when it comes to needing attention. You have all of my attention now, nephew." His uncle withdrew almost fully and letting the cool air hit Aerion's wet lips for a split second before ramming back in with a hardness that made the silver haired Omega's head snap back against Valarr's shoulder. 

"Mmph—ghhh—pl—please." Aerion tried to speak around the meat filling his mouth and his voice sounded so pathetic. He hated himself for begging but the lack of air was so scary. His pussy was leaking uncontrollably, the slick running down his inner thighs and pooling on the carpet where he knelt. 

"Please what, nephew? You think yourself a dragon yet you cower whenever I raise my hand." His uncle saw the scared and lonely boy who acted out for attention and he was giving him that attention now in the way no uncle ever should. 

His cousin squirmed behind him with his own tiny and useless cock pressing against Aerion's lower back. His uncle's  breathing became ragged, his grunts deeper and more guttural like he was an animal rutting a female. Aerion felt it before he saw it—the base of his uncle's dick began to swell. Panic codly and sharply broke through the silver haired Omega's lust because his uncle had only knotted his mouth once before, years ago and the memory was a blur of agony and stretched throat. 

"No." Aerion whimpered, trying to pull back with his eyes widening.

The knot. 

Alphas rarely knotted mouths—it was dangerous, painful and an extreme act usually reserved for the most severe punishments or the most rough mating. He hadn't done this in years, not since Aerion was a fresh flowered Omega who had thrown wine in a lord's face in annoyance and screwed up grandfather's alliance with the lord. He remembered the last time and the feeling of his jaw nearly snapping, the panic of suffocation. 

"No," Aerion tried to say again, shaking his head frantically, "Please, Uncle, no—"

"Hold him Valarr, and don't let him move away." His uncle instructed his blood son. 

Valarr's grip tightened with his arms locking around the younger Omega's soft chest. His uncle grabbed the Omega's head with both hands now and forcing him down. The angle was too steep for knotting while kneeling and his uncle pushed and Aerion collapsed backward, his spine arching until the back of his head landed in his cousin's lap.

He lay on the carpet with his head cradled in the lap of his naked cousin, his face turned upward to receive the Alpha who loomed over him. His Alpha dropped to his knees, straddling Aerion's chest and his weight pinning the younger Omega to the floor. He aligned himself and shoved deep inside to make sure the Omega was full of him. The knot—that bulbous swelling at the base of the dick met the silky lips and it was too wide and it shouldn't fit.

His uncle regardless forced it and he pushed with a  grinding pressure that stretched Aerion's jaw until the hinges popped and clicked audibly. His Alpha's sweat dripped from his forehead onto the pretty face underneath him, "Quiet now. I have done worse to you so you will endure this as you have before. Be a good Omega for your uncle." 

Aerion screamed with a muffled and garbled sound that died in his throat as the knot slipped past his lips. His skin stretched translucent and the corners of his mouth tearing slightly, a sting of blood mixing with the saliva. He felt his jaw dislocate slightly with a a sickening shift that allowed the massive knot to slide inside and locking his mouth open in a permanent scream.

It hurts, Tears leak from his violet eyes as his cousin's hands gripped him tighter to stop him from bucking their Alpha off, it hurts so much. 

He was drowning. The Alpha had staved off his release to knot Aerion in the mouth.

His uncle's knot filled his entire mouth, pressing against the roof of his mouth and flattening his tongue, blocking his airway completely. He could only breathe in shallow and panic stricken gasps through his nose. His eyes rolled back, fixing on the ceiling as tears streaming down his sharp cheeks to wet Valarr's thighs. His cousin was stroking his hair now which a comforting  touch from the boy he constantly fought with like cats and dogs.

"Shhh," Valarr whispered with his voice trembling, his pretty blue and brown eyes staring down at the pained Omega with twisted sympathy, "It's okay, just breathe. Let him finish inside and he will take care of you after."

Aerion couldn't breathe. 

He could only feel the heat of the Alpha inside his skull. He felt small and insignificant, his short legs kicked uselessly against the carpet with his heels digging into the carpet and his uncle Baelor's weight on his chest was immovable. The pressure was immense like a headache blooming behind his violet eye sockets as the knot continued to swell, locking him onto the Alpha. 

"That's it, good Omega." His Alpha uncle groaned, his head thrown back as his neck muscles strained, "So tight. Tighter than my son's throat." 

Good omega, his pale eyelashes fluttered as his eyes rolled into his head. The comparison even now sent a flicker of twisted pride through Aerion. He was tighter and he was better. 

His uncle came inside of his throat soon—thick streams pulses of seed shot down his throat and hitting the back of his gullet. There was so much of his uncle's seed pouring down his throat that he struggled in his cousin's hold, his body trying to reject the seed as  the knot held him fast. He was forced to swallow gulp after gulp of the salty seed and choking and sputtering as it piled in his belly. 

The knot stayed swollen for what felt like forever and it kept Aerion trapped in that intimate hell. He lay there, twitching with his pussy soaking the carpet beneath him with slick as the knot softened slowly, shrinking just enough to break away from his mouth. With a wet pop that sounded obscene in the quiet room, his uncle finally pulled out. The suction dragged Aerion's head up slightly before he flopped back onto his Omega cousin's lap. His mouth hung open, jaw slack and aching and unable to close properly. A mixture of white seed and clear saliva pooled in his mouth and overflowed, cascading down his chin and neck and ruining the red ribbon on his neck. 

His uncle's mismatched eyes trailed over the corners of his mouth, where redness was evident from the slight tearing of the skin. He coughed weakly and tried to wipe his face but his arms felt like lead. 

"Father." Valarr croaked out.

In the next moment, Aerion was weightless.

His Alpha uncle scooped him up as easily as if he were a discarded tunic with his large and powerful arms cradling Aerion's lithe form against the hard wall of his chest. In the same motion the Alpha gathered Valarr lifting both of his Omegas—nephew and son—with a display of casual strength. If he had the strength, he would have gaped because he knew his Alpha was strong but he didn't know he was this strong. 

Aerion's cheek pressed against the rough wool of his Alpha uncle's clothes, the scent of the Alpha filled his nose and his head lulled against the older man's massive chest, the wool of the cloth scratching his cheek. It was as if they were nothing more than unruly little dragons his uncle had tired of disciplining. He felt small and fragile like a porcelain doll that had been smashed. Valarr on the other side was limp and compliant, his dark head resting on his father's shoulder with his breath hitching in small and wet sniffles.

Aerion wanted to struggle, to demand to be put down and to not be treated like a cat being scuffed to assert some shred of dignity but his body refused to obey and his thighs trembled. The punishment left him lethargic and weepy, craving the soothing touch of his uncle that had hurt him. His uncle carried them to the massive bed that was pushed to the far wall of the room, a vastness of furs and velvet that looked like a cloud in the dim light. He deposited his two unruly cats gently and laying them out amidst the pillows like his treasured pets. The silver haired Omega sank into the softness, his limbs heavy and his jaw aching with a dull pain every time he tried to swallow. He watched through half lidded eyes as Valarr scrambled to sit, wiping his face with the back of his hand and looking bruised with his movements jerky and eager to please.

"Make the nest, my sweetling." His uncle commanded softly. 

The man turned and began gathering materials from around the room. Valarr nodded nervously, the black ribbon at his throat slightly askew and immediately set to work. The dark haired Omega crawled over the sheets, his naked body pale and marked with the red handprint on his cheek. 

Aerion lay there, feeling useless and resentful watching his cousin perform the domestic duties of a favored Omega. His Alpha returned with armfuls of blankets—heavy wool, soft downs and rich brocades—along with piles of his own clothing that had been worn and discarded, heavy with his scent. He tossed them onto the bed, burying the two Omegas in fabrics that smelled of leather, steel and Alpha musk and Valarr began to arrange them with frantic instinctive precision of a cat kneading it's nest. The dark haired Omega moved on his hands and knees, tucking shirts and tunics into a circular barrier around them and creating a wall of scent and safety. The favored Omega grabbed a tunic his father had worn during the joust, burying his face in the armpit for a second to inhale the musk before placing it near the head of the nest.

 Aerion watched with his lip curling in a weak sneer. 

"You look like a dirty street cat." Aerion croaked, his voice ruined and sounding like he had been beat in three different ways, "Your collar is ruined too, as expected of someone as clumsy as you." 

Valarr did not stop, his hands smoothing out a wrinkle in a velvet throw. He grabbed his father's black doublet, the one heavy with the Alpha's scent and tucked it directly under the silver haired Omega's head. The smell of leather, steel and his uncle hit Aerion's nose instantly, a scent that made his eyelids flutter. It was humiliating to be so dependent, to be the pampered thing in the middle of the nest while his dull cousin played the capable mother hen but Aerion couldn't summon the energy to give a fuck. His jaw ached and hurt like a bitch and his throat felt raw stripped of its lining. He curled his slender fingers into the black velvet, pulling it closer to his face and inhaling greedily. 

It smelled like his uncle and it was catnip for the fussy younger Omega. 

Valarr was muttering to himself with nonsensical chirps of reassurance as he built the nest, enclosing them in a soft and suffocating cradle. 

His cousin then did something that made Aerion's skin crawl with revulsion. His cousin reached down between his own strong legs, his fingers diving into the dark trimmed hair of his pussy. Those princely fingers scooped up the heavy and clear slick that had been leaking from him throughout the punishment, his fingers glistening with his slick. He smeared the slick over the pillows, over the blankets and marking the territory to make sure no one else other than their pack would ever come into these nests. 

Then, he crawled over to Aerion with his body cat like. 

"Don't touch me. Get off me, I'm telling you." Aerion rasped and his Valarr ignored him with the single minded focus of an Omega building a nest for his fellow Omega and lord Alpha. 

The dark haired boy reached down between the silver haired Omega's legs, scooping up a handful of the copious amounts of slick as his fingers brushed against silver tuffs of hair. His cousin Valarr brought his fingers to his nose, inhaling deeply with his eyes fluttering shut for a second before he began to smear the fluids onto the pillows and the blankets their Alpha had provided. 

Aerion watched his cousin rub his cheek against a scented pillow purring softly and felt an aching desire to do the same to feel safe and wanted. 

His uncle approached the bed stripping off the last of his clothes—his shirt and boots—until he stood naked and magnificent in the light. The sight of him handsome and a warrior by all means made both Omegas rub their thighs together. A low vibrating sound began in his uncle Baelor's chest—a purr. 

It was a sound that spoke to an Omega more than any words ever could and it was the sound of safety and of a dragon protecting its own. Aerion felt his muscles loosen involuntarily and the tension drained out of him as if a pin had been pulled. The anger, the humiliation and the desire for revenge—it all melted into a warm gooey puddle of familysafelove. 

His uncle climbed into the nest, the mattress dipping under his weight and the purr grew louder filling the small space. The Alpha's baby boy immediately responded with a softer and higher-pitched purr rising from his throat to harmonize with his father's. It was a sickeningly sweet sound of a familial calling and Aerion tried to resist, clamping his mouth shut but a small whimper with a tiny purr escaped him as a pitiful attempt to join the sound. 

His dignified uncle smiled then and it was genuine smile that reached his eyes. The Alpha murmured settling in between them with his large arms reaching out to pull them both down, "My boys, my blood."

His uncle arranged them like dolls, positioning them side by side on their backs with their heads resting on the pillows Valarr had scented. He knelt between their spread legs and looming over them like a prince weighing in his disobedient cats. The sight of the two naked Omegas would make any Alpha fall to their knees—On the left was his beloved son who was the mirror of the Alpha with hair like a raven's wing save for that single silver streak, skin pale as milk. On the right was his fussy nepew who was the burning star of their House with silver hair fanned out like a halo and violet eyes red rimmed, skin flushed with the afterglow of being knotted int the mouth. 

Lying there, they were two blooming flowers of the season of summer and winter. His son was the moon to his nephew's sun and both were equally beautiful in different ways. Between their legs, they were identical in function if not in decoration. Aerion's pussy was framed by silver hair, trimmed neat and close revealing the tiny sensitive nub of his cock—no bigger than a large clitoris—and the wet pink slit of his quim below it. 

His cousin was the same but shrouded in dark curls, his tiny cock soft and resting against the lips of his pussy hole. Both were leaking and his uncle looked from one to the other as the Alpha reached out to place his hand covering his son's quim, his palm warm and rough, "You did well with the nest, Valarr. You are a good boy when you remember what I teach you." 

His cousin preened under the praise, arching his back slightly into the touch, "Thank you, Father. I only want to please you."

Aerion rolled his eyes and let out a grunt of irritation, "Yes, yes, he's just wonderful uncle."

"Jealous." Valarr panted and giggled in High Valyrian, his hips grinding against his father's big hand, "You're just—jealous because he—he likes my pussy best." 

Baelor chuckled, a dark sound. "I do like your pussy, sweetling. I also like your pussy too, nephew."

The silver haired Omega was still jealous and he turned his head on the pillow to glare at Valarr. Aerion spat and he hated how his voice cracked, "Do you have no pride? He just beat you. He just used your face like a latrine." 

His cousin turned his head as his mismatched eyes narrowed in competitiveness, "And he knotted your throat because you couldn't keep yours shut. You think you're oh so special because you have the coloring of the Conqueror?" 

"Oh, I'll show you coloring—" Aerion wanted to scream and to claw at Valarr's face to fight like cats and dogs every time they come near each other but his uncle's hand landed on his thigh, squeezing hard enough to bruise. 

"Enough." Their Alpha sighed out, "No fighting in the nest and you two are pack. You will love each other or I will make you." 

His cousin relented to his scolding easily as he always did and turned his head back towards his father with a huff. His uncle's eyes softened as he looked at Aerion, "You had the harder lesson today, little dragon. Your throat must ache." 

The acknowledgment of his pain and the sudden shift to gentleness from his uncle broke the silver haired boy's heart into tiny pieces. Tears leaked from his pretty violet eyes and they ran down his pale skin. 

"It hurts." Aerion whispered reluctantly and his lower lips puckered out in a watery pout, "You hurt me."

"I know, my little dragon. " His uncle soothed the agitated whimpering inside of and shifting his weight, "I only hurt you because I love you and I want you to be better. All this mischief needs to stop, Aerion. I tire of this charade from you." 

His uncle turned his attention to his firstborn son and he kept one hand firmly planted on his son's pussy, his fingers beginning to work. The Hand of the King did not need to look as he knew Valarr's body as well as his own. He slid two thick and calloused fingers into his son's wet little pussy pushing past the lips with ease. His pretty son gasped, his hips bucking instinctively. The older man curled his fingers inside, hitting the sweet spot with practiced efficiency from years of indulging in his own son's body.  

Squelch. 

The sound of the wet slick was loud and the heir to the heir threw his head back, his mouth falling open with soft moans spilling out and chanted with devotion, "Yes—Father— yes, feels so good." 

The younger Omega watched mesmerized seeing the pleasure wash over his cousin's face. He felt the sensation in his own cunny because he wanted to be pet like that too, he wanted his Alpha to shower him with the same attention. He looked at his uncle Baelor with pleading violet eyes and pale eyelashes, silently begging for the same touch, for the fingers, for anything.

His beloved uncle of course noticed his plight.

"Such a eager little thing. I like you better when you're on your back for your prince than causing a ruckus everywhere." His uncle murmured, looking down at Aerion's silver-dusted pussy,  "What a wretched creature I am to cherish you so, even when you are foolish." 

"Uncle." He whined slightly because he wasn't foolish, he was just the more proactive Omega of the family. His cousin Valarr snickered to his side and the urge to punt the Omega off the bed was becoming more likely as a low growl built in his throat. 

His uncle Alpha lowered his head and sight of the Hand of the King descending between his legs made the younger Omega's breath stop. His uncle's scratchy beard brushed against the sensitive skin of his milk colored inner thighs, sending shivers of pleasure to his spine. Then the Alpha's tongue emerged—his tongue was silken and broad in skill and he lapped at the slit of Aerion's pussy, tasting the slick and the sweat and the sweet essence of the Omega. 

Aerion mewled out, "Yes, yes, please. Please right there, uncle." 

The sensation was overwhelming—the scratch of the beard against the smoothness of his labia, the hot and wet pressure of the tongue delving into his folds. His Alpha uncle groaned against him, the sound brushing across the silver haired boy's clit. It was intimate in a way the fucking hadn't been and to have an Alpha service him with softness rather than being bent over made his thighs quiver. 

Valarr, his mismatched eyes glazed with the pleasure of his father's fingers inside him turned to look. He watched as his father's tongue flicked expertly over the silver haired boy's tiny cock, teasing the sensitive head. The fair willowy hands flew up to grip the sheets, his knuckles white and tight. The boy babbled incoherently, his head tossing from side to side like couldn't formulate a coherent thought. The contrast between the pain in his throat and the ache of pleasure between his legs was too much and he could still hear his uncle's fingers still working inside his cousin.

"He's so wet." The dark haired Omega observed breathlessly, his words tinged with a strange and drugged wonder, "He tastes sweet doesn't he, Father?" 

His Alpha father grunted in affirmation, sucking hard on Aerion's clit and making the silver haired Omega arch his back off the mattress with his toes curling. The younger Omega could hear Valarr's wet and sloppy noises of enjoyment next to him, he could smell the sweeter and musky scent of his cousin's pussy and below him the Alpha was devouring Aerion. His uncle used his nose to nudge at the pussy hole, inhaling deeply and drinking in the silver haired Omega's scent. The younger Omega felt his cunt's walls clamping down, his pussy spasming around his uncle's nose and tongue. 

"I'm going to—I'm going to—" He wailed, his mewls thin and reedy. 

His cousin nodded fast as well, whimpering as his blue and brown eyes rolled into his head, "Me too, father. I'm gonna—Oh, seven hells—"

"Shhh, my sweethearts. Just let it go." His uncle whispered and lifted his head for a brief second, his beard glistening with his nephew's pussy juices, "Give it to me. There it is, I have such good Omegas for me." He dove back in, sucking harder while simultaneously twisting his fingers inside his son's pussy. 

The dark haired Omega screamed as he came around his father's fingers, his hips twitching wildly and split second later the silver haired Omega followed with his body seizing up, a blinding white light wiping behind his violet eyes. The Omegas sobbed as the pleasure ripped through them as his pussy gushing slick into the Alpha's mouth. His favorite uncle drank it all, lapping up the overflow and growling with satisfaction as his Omegas fell apart in his care.

His uncle  slowly pulled back and he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, smearing Aerion's scent across his face and marking himself just as he had marked them. He withdrew his fingers from his baby boy with a wet pop, wiping them on the sheets. He crawled up the bed, settling back between them and pulling them both into his chest. The purr returned deeper and more resonant than before as the younger Omega curled into his uncle's side, burying his face in the Alpha's neck and careful of his bruised throat. 

He felt Valarr's hand brush his own under the covers—a tentative touch and he didn't pull away this time. He closed his eyes, surrounded by the scent of his kin and the pain in his throat a dull throb that served as a reminder of who he belonged to.

"Now was that so hard?" His uncle whispered kissing the top of Aerion's silver head and then Valarr's dark curls. The scent of the Alpha was a drug musk that settled deep in the silver haired Omega's lungs and made his limbs feel like they were made of lead and honey. He lay curled against his uncle's left side, his silver head resting in the crook of the older man's neck and right where the heartbeat thumped steady and strong against the fair, weathered skin. From this point, he could study the landscape of his uncle's face—the salt-and-pepper beard that was thickest at the jaw, the fine lines radiating from his eyes that spoke of years of ruling as Lord Hand and warring and the sheer masculinity of him. 

Aerion let out a high and keening purr, the sound deep in his chest. He nuzzled closer, his nose brushing against the coarse hair of his Alpha uncle's beard and feeling the scratch of it against his sensitive lips. He thought of the line of the gold Hand pin that his uncle had discarded earlier with his clothes, thinking how fitting it was that this man held the realm in one hand and his Targaryen kin in the other. 

He was brought out of his thoughts by the sound of an undignified whine. 

His violet eyes narrowed and drifted downward, past the broad expanse of his uncle's hairy chest to where the Alpha's calloused fingers were busy working between his own son's legs. The jealousy flared instantly like a permanent wound that never truly left his heart as Valarr was still being touched. Valarr with his dark hair and his dutiful, boring demeanor was getting the attention that Aerion craved like air. 

His uncle Baelor's hand was massive against his son's pale and soft stomach, his fingers disappearing into the dark thicket of hair that guarded his son's quim. His eyes watched the movement of the knuckles, the way the wet and obscene sound of the fingering echoed in the room. His dark haired cousin's hips bucked with every thrust of the fingers, his breath hitching as his mismatched eyes rolled back in his head. He looked so much like his father it was unnerving—a softer and prettier mirror image with the silver streak in his hair the only flaw in the reflection. 

Aerion hated him for it. 

He hated that Valarr fit so easily into the mold of the obedient son while Aerion was the wild thing that had to be scolded constantly.

Slowly, the older Omega moved after deciding that fingers were no longer enough. He moved with a languid and desperate grace crawling up his father's body until he was straddling the Alpha's hips. Valarr's useless cock no bigger than a thumb bobbed softly against his thighs as he moved and he positioned himself over his Alpha's dick, his knees sinking into the soft mattress on either side of the Alpha's waist. 

 "Really cousin?" Aerion whispered, "Leaking all over his hand like a bitch in heat? You're utterly shameless. We just had our fun."

"I am not the one who passed out from a throat fucking, Aerion." Valarr whispered, his voice dripping with false sweetness. "Father still has some left in him, he's not so old to not indulge his own son. He wants a warm place to spend his seed properly as every Alpha's right. Go back to sleep, little dragon and let your elders have their due." 

Elders? His cousin was barely a few years older than him and had the audacity to treat him like a young pup? His hackles rose immediately and his cousin was saved from the thrashing Aerion wanted to give him by the grope of his tit by his Alpha uncle. He squirmed slightly, taking a breath as his uncle's fingers pinched his pink nipple. 

His cousin reached down to palm his father's dick as it stood proud and heavy against his stomach, the head dark purple and glistening with their earlier mess. The older Omega grasped it with trembling hands, lining the broad head up with his own pussy lips. The size difference was laughable—his uncle was a big man that every where in Flea bottom would hesitate to take and his cousin was such an overachiever like his father. 

"You'll tear," Aerion snorted out hoping it comes true, "He's too big for you and you're too little to take his cock." 

His cousin ignored him, his focus entirely on the task of impaling himself on his father. He lowered his hips slowly, his face contorting in a twist of pain and relief as the head of the dick slipped past his pussy lips. He gasped with his hands clutching at his father's shoulders for comfort as the Alpha lay still, letting his heir do the work with his mismatched eyes watching. Inch by inch, Valarr sank down with his pussy swallowing the thick dick, his body stretching to accommodate his own father. When his cousin finally bottomed out, his pubic bone grinding against his father's he let out a sob of pure fullness. His tiny cock was pinned flat against his father's lower belly, trapped between their grinding hips. 

 "There." Valarr breathed with a glazed triumphant stare, "He fits, a father always fits in his son." 

His uncle's hands moved up from the hips to grasp at his son's chest. Valarr didn't have pectorals like a man, he had soft and fatty mounds that mimicked breasts since he was a male Omega topped with nipples the color of dark wine. They were distinct from Aerion's own pink nipples and his father squeezed the soft flesh roughly kneading his own son's chest like they were meat for his amusement, his thumbs flicking over the hardened nubs. His cousin whimpered like a pathetic dog as he began to bounce, lifting his hips and slamming them back down with a skin slapping sound. 

"Harder," His uncle grunted, "Don't be lazy, Valarr." 

His cousin obeyed, his head thrown back with his throat exposed, the black ribbon collar stark against his pale skin. He was drooling with a thin line of saliva connecting his lip to his chest, his face a mask of mindless pleasure. The silver haired Omega reached out, his hand trembling and brushed his fingers against his older cousin's thigh to feel the softness the Alpha was enjoying from his flesh. 

Aerion insulted with a whine in his throat, "He sounds like a common whore, Uncle. Are you going to give the whore what he wants?"

His uncle's response was to thrust upward, meeting his son's bouncing with a roughness that knocked the breath out of the older Omega. His Baelor's hands left his cousin's chest to grip his hips, locking him in place and forcing him to take the fullness of his dick violently, "He is not a whore." His uncle rasped out his tone leaving no room for argument, "He is my son. Do not mock his neediness my little dragon, when your own belly is full of my seed." 

The reminder silenced Aerion effectively and he flushed, his hand going instinctively to his stomach and imagining the Alpha's seed sitting heavy inside him. He moved his hand higher on his cousin's body then, his fingers brushing against the junction where father and son were joined, feeling the mess of seed and slick. He touched the side of Valarr's useless cock and his cousin looked down with his eyes blown wide, sweat beading on his forehead. 

Valarr leaned forward, bracing his hands on his father's chest with his face inches from the Alpha's. He whimpered desperately, "Want your knot so bad, father." 

The mention of the knot made the Alpha growl and he reached up, one hand tangling in the hair at the back of Valarr's head and forcing his son's face down. "Greedy little thing." His uncle murmured but there was approval in the tone. 

He pulled Valarr down until their lips were almost touching then bypassed the sweet mouth to bury his face in his son's neck. He kissed the black ribbon collar, his lips caressing against the silk before opening his mouth to bite down on the sensitive muscle of the shoulder, right where the neck met the collarbone. The dark haired Omega shrieked, a sound of pain that quickly morphed into a moan with his hips stuttering in their rhythm. His father marked him, his teeth scraping against the skin and bruising the flesh beneath the ribbon. 

Aerion watched the bite mark form with redness and bruising purple and felt a surge of envy so potent it almost brought tears to his eyes. He fingered his own red collar, wishing his favorite uncle would mark him there too, wishing he would bite through the silk and leave a scar that would never fade. 

"You are mine, my beautiful and sweet son born from me. Everyday I thank the fourteen flames for being to make someone as wonderful as you." The Alpha mumbled against his son's skin, his hips bucking upward now and meeting Valarr's thrust.  He grabbed his baby boy's waist with both hands and began to piston into him with ruthlessness. The dark haired Omega was tossed like a ragdoll, his breath coming in short and sharp screams with his hands scrabbling at his father's chest, his nails dragging through the chest hair. 

Aerion crept up dragging his body up until he was pressing against his cousin's side, sandwiching the older Omega between himself and the Alpha. He reached out and grabbed his cousin's  tiny cock and stroking it with a rough jerky motion. Valarr jolted as his eyes snapped to his cousin. 

"Don't—" His cousin started as he pumped Valarr's cock while his uncle hammered into the older Omega from below.

"That's it." His uncle encouraged seeing Aerion join in, "Help your cousin and be useful, Aerion." 

The praise was a crumb but Aerion snatched it up like a starving dog. He leaned in, licking the sweat from his older dull cousin's shoulder right next to where his uncle had bitten him. He tasted the skin and let out a small moan. 

"Perhaps all those singers harping about your sweetness and beauty as the heir was not unfounded after, sweet cousin." He taunted softly against Valarr's skin. 

His cousin just sobbed, his head falling back onto the silver haired Omega's shoulder. Their Alpha was close. His uncle grunted as he felt the knot forming and his dull cousin felt it too, his mismatched eyes widened in terror and anticipation. 

"I can feel it," Valarr gasped as he clutched his younger cousin's arm, "He's getting—Oh, he's getting so big inside me."

The knot popped inside of the dark haired Omega, making the boy mewl and his thighs tremble with every pouring seed dripping inside of his ruined pussy. Valarr collapsed forward onto his father's chest, trapped and filled with the knot. His uncle's arms wrapped around his son, crushing him close while Aerion lay beside them. 

"My sweet boys." His uncle panted while stroking his son's  hair with one hand and reaching out to cup the back of Aerion's neck with the other. He squeezed his nephew's neck, his thumb pressing into silk red ribbon and his nephew leaned into the touch, closing his eyes. Aerion hated Valarr for having the knot in his belly but he loved the hand on his neck. 

His uncle arranged his son to lay beside him and his cousin easily drifted off to a sleep, snoring with a sound that grated on Aerion's nerves like a file against steel. He lay there for what felt like an eternity, staring up at the shadowed canopy of the bed and the smell of sex and slick heavy in the air. His uncle lay in the center like a mountain of warmth and muscle with Valarr tucked possessively against his side, the older Omega's face smooshed into the Alpha's chest hair and drooling in his sleep. 

The silver haired Omega felt a cold, creeping isolation seep into his bones. 

He felt like an ornament—a beautiful and silver-gilt trophy that had been taken down from the shelf, played with and then put back while the real family bonded. Valarr Targaryen was the heir, the first born son and the mirror image of the Alpha itself just inverted in gender while he was just the Brightflame, the Valyrian colored Omega with the pretty face and the madness in his blood. 

What was a nephew to a son with his blood and his heir? 

Unable to bear the sight of their domestic contentment any longer, Aerion had slipped from the warmth of the nest, shivering as the cool air hit his naked skin and retreated to the adjoining bathing chamber. Now he sat on the edge of the large copper tub, the porcelain of the rim cold against his thighs, his feet dangling above the floor like he was a little boy all over again. He hugged himself, his fingers digging into his arms and tracing the gooseflesh.

In the dim light of the dying hearth from the other room, he caught his reflection in a polished silver mirror—silver hair messy and tousled, bright violet eyes bruised with exhaustion and the red ribbon collar stark against his pale throat. He looked like a discarded doll waiting for its owner to remember it existed.

He didn't hear his uncle approach until the heavy warmth of a body engulfed against his back. Aerion stiffened then melted as his favorite man's arms slid around his waist, pulling him back against the solid warmth of his chest. The Alpha was naked his body having a furnace like heat that instantly chased away the chill of the room. His uncle didn't speak, he simply buried his face in the crook of Aerion's neck with his beard scratching delightfully against the sensitive skin. He nuzzled there and inhaling deeply, taking in the scent of his youngest Omega's distress that had a sharp and sour tang beneath the natural sweetness of his Omega pheromones. The small Omega let his head fall back onto his Alpha uncle's shoulder, his pale eyelashes fluttering shut. 

The heavy tenderness confused Aerion as much as it aroused him, his uncle's hands splayed over his flat stomach, his thumbs brushing against the lower ribs and holding him with a possessiveness that was rare for a man like him. 

"Why are you out here, little dragon?" Uncle Baelor murmured against his skin, "The nest is cold on your side."

He  turned in the Alpha's arms and maneuvering until he was straddling uncle Baelor's thigh, his pale legs dangling on either side of the older man's muscled limb. He looked up into the Alpha's face, tracing the familiar and handsome features with his gaze—the angular jaw, the graying beard and the eyes that had seen rebellions. His uncle leaned in and kissed him slowly. The Alpha's tongue swept into Aerion's mouth, exploring the sweetness he had so recently hurt as punishment. He licked the corners of his hurt lips, soothing the tears and raw skin where the knot had stretched him to his limit. 

The smaller Omega whimpered into the kiss, his hands coming up to grip his uncle's biceps and feeling the hard muscle beneath the skin. A purr began to rumble in uncle Baelor's chest and he purred back, the sound higher than the older man's.

"I thought you were done with me," Aerion whispered against the older man's lips, his voice cracking slightly like he was a child, "I thought you only wanted Valarr now—you knotted him and then you cuddled him to sleep so I just—" 

Uncle Baelor pulled back slightly, his expression softening into something pained and affectionate as he corrected gently, "Do not think in such a way, my little dragon. Both you and your cousin are very dear to me and I wouldn't have it any other way. 

His hands drifted down the older man's torso, over the mat of hair on his chest and stomach until he found the Alpha's dick. It was heavy and languid resting against the muscled thigh and Aerion grasped it with his slender fingers wrapping around the thick dick, marveling at the weight of it. He began to stroke it, his touch frantic and needy and trying to coax the blood back into the dick.

"I want it. You gave it to Valarr—give—give it to me too." The violet eyed boy breathed. He guided the thickening dick toward his own quim, nudging the broad head against the wet and silver-dusted slit of his pussy. He was slick—he was always slick for his favorite uncle—and the head slipped easily between his lips, teasing the pussy hole. His uncle groaned, his hips bucking forward instinctively and his purr deepening into a growl. 

"You are insatiable just like a dragon for war." Baelor muttered but he didn't pull away. Instead, he reached up and tugged on the red silk ribbon around his nephew's neck and pulling him closer. He lowered his head and opened his mouth over the junction of his nephew's neck and shoulder right next to the ribbon. He bit down and it was nothing like a nip as his teeth sank into the soft flesh, breaking the skin and tasting the copper of his dear nephew's blood. Aerion whimpered instantly and kept his neck bare for his Alpha. 

The large hand moved to soft chest, cupping one of the small tits and he pinched the bright pink nipple hard, rolling it between his thumb and forefinger and Aerion moaned, his head thrown back and exposing the new bite mark to the cool air. His uncle maneuvered them both until Aerion's back was pressed against the tiled wall of the bathing chamber and the cold stone made the younger boy hiss but the heat of his Alpha pressing against his front was a perfect counterpoint. His Baelor lifted him easily, holding him up by the hips and his legs wrapped  instinctively around the Alpha's waist as the Alpha nudged his dick inside of his pussy. 

Aerion sobbed burying his face in the man's neck, inhaling the scent of salt and Alpha musk.

"So tight," Baelor gritted out, his forehead resting against Aerion's. "You always feel like the first time, Aerion. Like you've never been touched. Do you remember the day I took you when you had your first heat? You crept into my chambers with slick down your thighs, whining for my attention as if I were not your royal uncle and rather some stud to breed you full of pups."

His uncle fucked him in a way that was different—it was the kind of fucking that husbands gave wives and their Queen consorts. He drove into Aerion and hitting the deepest part of him, grinding his pubic bone against the boy's clit with a pressure that made the Omega's toes curl. He shifted his grip, one arm wrapping under his Omega's ass to support him while his other hand came up to cover his nephew's mouth. His palm was broad and warm, smelling of Valarr's slick and Aerion's own scent.

"Shh," Uncle Baelor whispered into his ear, his breath hot in a way that made the Omega shiver, "Quiet, little flame. This is just for us, we don't want to wake your cousin."

Just for them.  

It felt illicit affair in the dark and he kissed his Baelor's palm in clear adoration, tasting the salt his muffled moans against the Alpha's hand. 

"You are so beautiful that the gods spent a long time on you, Aerion. It's a shame they filled such a pretty thing with such mischief." He kissed Aerion's forehead then his eyelids with tender gestures that felt at odds with the hand clamping his mouth shut.

As his uncle pounded deeper stretching him open, he pulled his face away from the hand on his mouth for a second—just enough to speak—his violet eyes wide and glistening with unshed tears. The question had been burning in him all day fueled by the jealousy of seeing his cousin so perfectly loved. 

"Do you love me?" Aerion whispered, the words hanging in the humid air like smoke. 

What a wretched and pathetic question from a dragon like him. He did not care in the moment. 

He needed to know. 

He needed to know if the biting, the knotting and the punishments—if it all meant something beyond just playing with him. 

His beloved uncle—the Hand of the King and his father's brother stopped moving. He froze, buried deep inside the Omega and opened his eyes. The mismatched gaze bore into violet ones and seeing only the scared boy beneath. For a moment, the younger boy thought he would be struck again or mocked for being so weepy and needy like some Omega maiden rather than a prince of the realm. 

But his Baelor's expression softened, the lines around his eyes deepening with a sudden weary sadness. His uncle pressed his forehead against his, closing his eyes as if remembering a memory from the distant of the past. He began to move again with slower movements just enough to feel as close as possible to the beautiful boy in his arms. 

"I remember the day my brother put you in my arms." His uncle murmured and the silver haired Omega blinked with a dumbfounded look. 

"Huh?" He asked dumbly, a thing that he hadn't done since he was one and two. 

His uncle chuckled softly, "You were barely dry from the womb. Tiny and red faced and just about screaming at everything. You were a terror even then with pouty lips, big violet eyes glaring at the world as if it had already offended you. You wouldn't settle for the wet nurses and you wouldn't settle even for your mother like you just wanted to scream away at the world."  

He knew his uncle had often visited him while his mother was alive at summerhall though he did not have any memories of it. He awfully wanted to know if his uncle held him in his arms for some time or if he would just poke at little baby him to see if he was squirmy. 

His Alpha shifted his hips hitting a spot that made him gasp, "Valarr was there and he was just a toddler holding onto my leg. He started crying because you were so loud. He covered his ears and hid behind me like a little cat terrified of a kitten." His uncle pulled back slightly to look at Aerion again, his hand moving from the soft mouth to cup his cheek and his thumb stroking the cheekbone, "I looked down at you, this little bundle of spite and fire and—I laughed. Because I knew, I knew you would be trouble."

"And?" Aerion prompted, his voice trembling, "And you hated me?" 

His uncle shook his head slowly, "No, my little dragon. I couldn't hate you even then." His uncle leaned in kissing the tip of Aerion's nose then his eyelids, "I held you in my arms and then you quieted. You looked at me with those violet eyes and gave the sweetest little laughter ever. I've loved you ever since you had been placed in my arms."

"I love you," Aerion whispered as his arms tightened around his Alpha's neck, "I love you." 

His beloved Baelor just held him tighter and poured his love into him, filling him up with a warmth no one else could ever give him in this lifetime—and for a moment, it was enough. 

The mud of Ashford Meadow was a slurry of muddy earth and the copper tang of spilled blood, a vile thing that coated Aerion's gilded armor and splattered his face, ruining the perfection he so carefully always maintained for his vanity. His breath came in ragged, burning gasps and searing his lungs with every inhalation of the air and the trial of the seven. The cold icy shard of betrayal had lodged itself in Aerion's chest the moment he saw him, his beloved uncle and his beloved Alpha riding the field to stand beside the hedge knight rather than defend his own blood and his own Omega. 

And he wore black—the sight of that armor which was the sleek and practical plate of the heir to the heir, the very steel Aerion had seen Valarr jousting in just days ago—felt like someone had clawed his chest open and torn out his own heart piece by piece. 

It was Valarr's armor. 

The Omega creature he had shared a nest only some time ago, had given his protection to the enemy. He gave his father the steel armor, Aerion thought, his grip on his morning star tightening until his leather gloves creaked. He stripped himself bare to clothe the Alpha who was supposed to defend us.

His uncle  had stood there ready to strike down his own blood for the sake of a hedge knight who smelled of stable muck. Every time Aerion looked at that black armor, he saw his cousin who had rocked his cradle once to lull him to sleep handing over the helm, perhaps kissing the metal and whispering prayers for his father's victory—a victory that necessitated Aerion's defeat. 

His uncle had held him. His uncle had told him he loved him. 

That damned armor doesn't even fit you properly, he had wanted to snarl at his Alpha uncle. Valarr had given it to him—His cousin, his fellow Targaryen Omega and the other half of their pack had armed their Alpha to fight against Aerion. It felt a rejection so absolute that it made him want to vomit inside his helm. He wondered if his cousin gave the armor happily to his uncle to put Aerion in his place, he wonders if his Valarr had even tried to protest that no we shouldn't turn our backs against our younger Omega. He swung his morning star with an unhinged fury, battering against the arm of Ser Duncan and screaming with every blow. 

You traitor, he wanted to claw his Alpha's face open, you absolute worthless Alpha—you and your betrayer bitch of a son—

His Baelor, his prince did not chose him over some hedge knight he had met just a day or two ago. Aerion's violet eyes behind the slits of his visor darted to the towering figure of the dumb knight and as they grappled with steel screeching against steel, he caught a whiff of the man's scent through the vents of his helm—sweat, cheap leather and something else.

Egg. 

The scent of his youngest brother, Aegon clung to this hedge knight like a blanket. It was the scent of a squire bonding to his knight, an Omega claiming an Alpha and utterly possessive and cloying. His little brother, Egg? An Alpha, he realized with a surge of revulsion as he dodged a clumsy swing from the hedge knight, this hedge knight is an Alpha and he reeks of Aerion's brother. Aegon, that bald headed little rat had scented this peasant and he had marked him.

What the fuck?

A Targaryen Omega fawning over a hedge knight Alpha and likely letting the brute knot him in some ditch? His father would have a fit and the king would faint in his iron throne. The thought that his brother was debasing himself for this lumbering oaf added freshness to Aerion's rage. Did this lump headed Alpha even know just who was rubbing up all over his dirt poor skin? He wonders almost wrathfully if the Alpha had bed his little brother or if his selfish brat of a brother had simply rubbed his scent all over the knight with some lies. 

Aerion spat with his voice distorted by the metal and twisting his wrist to drive his shield into the giant's chest, "Did my brother spread his legs for you in a ditch, Ser Dumb Giant? Is that why you fight so hard, for a taste of Targaryen royal cunt?" 

The thought that Aegon, the runt and the mistake had found an Alpha to protect him while Aerion's own Alpha stood on the opposite side of the field drove Aerion into a frenzy. He wanted to kill Duncan not just for the perceived slight against the puppet show but to sever that bond and to punish Aegon for having a protector when Aerion felt so abandoned. 

How dare he? How dare that little rat have something he didn't?

The Alpha knight looked dumbfounded by the comment, "What? Huh—" 

He lashed out, his morning star catching the dumb giant on the helm and sending the massive man stumbling back dazed. Somewhere to his left amidst the clangor of swords and the screams of dying horses, Aerion heard a roar like he had never one before.

 "Aerion? My boy! My boy!" 

It was Maekar—his father. 

The voice was harsh and gravelly and filled with the rage of a dragon protecting its young. The silver haired Omega risked a glance and saw his father fighting like a demon, trying to cut a path through two other knights to reach him. A sudden flush of vindication warmed his belly. Father loves me, despite the scowl and despite the brooding insults, his father was fighting for him. He was screaming for his Omega son, desperate to shield him from the consequences of his own madness.

His father didn't betray him like Valarr and his uncle Baelor had. 

The fight with the giant knight was ugly—the hedge knight had no finesse, no grace, just brute strength and the stubbornness of a mule. 

Aerion hated him. 

He hated the way the man wouldn't stay down, hated the way he absorbed blows that would have crippled a lesser man. What was the man made of? 

He hurled his broken sword at Duncan's thigh, a desperate and unknightly move born of pure spite watching the giant flinch and sprawl backward into the mud. He wanted to kill Duncan, to smash his skull in and wipe that scent of Aegon off the face of the earth and to prove to his father that he was worth the screaming. He stumbled back with his boots slipping in the mud that was rapidly turning into a slurry of blood and dirt and he didn't care that he was desperate. He couldn't lose—not in front of his uncle. If he lost, he was nothing. He was just the mad prince who cried wolf.

Slowly the fighting began to die down. It was a confusing pause of the trial for some reason. He blinked, shaking his head to clear the sweat  and blood from his eyes with confusion warring with his adrenaline. Why had they stopped? The giant hadn't yielded or died yet and Aerion took a stumbling step forward, his boots squelching in the bloody mire with his gaze following the collective stare of the survivors. 

There stood Baelor Breakspear. 

He was swaying slightly like a great oak tree in a gale that had just passed and he wasn't fighting anymore. He was just standing there with the dragons on his chest obscured by mud and dents.

"Uncle?" Aerion whispered with the word lost inside his helm. He felt the cold iron of his own helm pressing against his cheeks as his breath hitched then caught entirely in his throat. His Alpha raised his hands slowly, the movement stiff and mechanical as if his joints had rusted in the rain. He reached up to the helm and fumbling with the clasps of the helm—the helm that belonged to Valarr, fashioned in the shape of a dragon's head. 

Take it off, He thought with a desperate prayer. Take it off and look at me. Look at me with those eyes and scold me and hit me. Just look at me.

The clasps gave way and his uncle lifted the heavy steel from his head, the metal scraping against the skin with a sound that set Aerion's teeth on edge. The helm came free and for a heartbeat it was his cousin's helm cradled in the man's arm. The one Valarr had polished, the one he had held so carefully in the armory.

His uncle stood there as blinked his dark mismatched eyes—the eyes that Aerion had kissed, that had looked at him with such warring love and disappointment—staring out at nothing, unfocused and glassy. He looked confused like a man who had walked into a room and forgotten why he was there. 

Hesitantly, his oldest and most beloved uncle raised a gloved hand to the back of his head. He touched the spot where the mace—his father's mace, the younger boy realized with a pain of nausea—must have struck him. His fingers probed the area and exploring the ruin of his own skull. When he pulled his hand away, the glove was slick with a viscous fluid that looked black in the dim light. His Baelor looked at his hand, staring at his own blood with a mild look of resignation in his beautiful weathered eyes. 

Then, he turned slightly and the Omega saw it. 

A sound tore from Aerion's throat with a high broken keen of an Omega. The tall Alpha hedge knight behind him stayed on the ground, his blue eyes staring at the crown prince rather than standing up to fight again. 

The back of his uncle Baelor's head was gone. 

The skull, that noble and strong vessel that held the mind of the greatest man in the Seven Kingdoms was caved in like a rotten melon dropped from a tower. The bone was shattered, fragments of white jaggedly protruding from the ruin of skin and hair. He could see the glistening and gray pink mass of the brain, exposed to the open air and pulsating weakly. It was a sight of such grotesque that the silver haired Omega's mind refused to process it. 

That is Baelor, his mind screamed, That is my Alpha. The Kingsguard behind his Alpha uncle gasped and his uncle took a breath but Aerion couldn't breathe at all.

His uncle stood there for a moment longer, swaying in the wind and looking almost peaceful despite the ruin of his skull. He tried to take a step, perhaps toward his sweet son Valarr, perhaps toward his fiery nephew Aerion but his legs refused to obey. Then, his knees that had been strong through the Blackfyre rebellions buckled and he did not crumple gracefully, he fell like a felled tower dead weight crashing into the mud with a sickening thud. 

The splash of mud coated the black armor, obscuring the dragons and burying the heir to the iron throne.  Aerion wanted to run there—he was a child again, trying to get to his father figure and desperate to hold onto the older man and he couldn't move his legs.

It was impossible. He did not believe what was before him with the desperate frantic denial of a child who refuses to believe a nightmare is real. 

His uncle was going to get up. 

He had to. 

He would stand up, wipe the blood from his face and punish them all for this farce. He would drag his young Omega nephew back to the chambers, beat him until he couldn't sit or maybe he would knot his mouth again and then hold him until the world made sense again. He would kiss Valarr and make everything right. 

His uncle was a dragon, his uncle was an Alpha who had fought against countless foes. 

Aerion stared at the body, waiting for the chest to rise and waiting for voice he had heard since he was a child. But his uncle did not get up and remained motionless with blood pooled around his head, staining the dry earth black and spreading like the wing of a dragon that would swallow them all. The memory of the night just some time before—the warmth of his uncle's skin, the taste of his mouth and how good he had felt inside of the Omega—curdled behind his violet eyes.

He had to get to his uncle. He had to wake him up.

He heard someone shriek for a maester, he heard someone sob or maybe he wasn't hearing anything at all. 

"My prince, the trial is yet to be decided. Have you yielded or has the hedge knight?" 

Where was his Valarr? He needs to find the other Omega, he needs to see the dark haired older boy that looked so much like his uncle it sometimes felt like staring into a twin. He thinks of the dark hair streaked with silver gold and suddenly he can't think at all anymore. 

"My prince, have you yielded or withdraw your accusations?" 

Those blue and brown eyes that had been imprinted on his cousin's face stared up at the open sky, they did not look to Aerion and they did not blink even as his own brother's hands fell upon his face in an embrace—Maekar Targaryen, the anvil of House Targaryen was screaming something. 

"My prince, we need to know." 

He had to go there—he needed to tug his Alpha into his arms and hear his heartbeat.

Do you love me?

"My prince? Should we ask the hedge knight?" 

There had to be an end to his suffering, there had to be. 

"My prince?" 

I've loved you ever since you had been placed in my arms.

“My prince?”

There had to be.