Work Text:
It must have been past the hour of ghosts when a grating shriek of the chamber door roused Prince Daeron from his drunken half-stupor. He all but fell asleep again as his visitor sauntered to his bedside.
"Wake up."
He grunted and stirred but made no great effort to answer. A sweet scent spread about his room and he inhaled it, his body too heavy and blunt to move. It must be a dream again.
"Wake up", The voice hissed.
Aerion stood above him, the candle in his hand casting a stark shadow over his comely face. In the flicker of it's flame his eyes shined like amethysts,pointed gaze making the Dornish red he drank earlier lurch in his stomach.
"Seven hells, you've spooked me..." At this hour he lacked the slightest bit of interest for his younger brother's whims. "Pester me in the morrow, please," he mumbled and he shut his eyes again.
Aerion crawled into his bed anyways. This close up he could clearly smell the change in his scent. A little over a fortnight ago Aerion fell abed with his first heat and their Father secluded him off to the Maidenvault to flower from a child into an omega grown with only septas and servants of the same designation to tend to his needs. Ever since his release, Aerion was furious, refusing to speak a word with their Father when they broke fast together, angering Prince Maekar in return. Though he would not admit it when pressed on it, their Father favored his only omega son to his other alpha children and spoiled the young prince rotten,even letting him train sword and horseback with the rest of his siblings, but not even the Anvil could change nature and the will of Gods.
"You are too old to sleep with me," Daeron muttered, ill at ease. When they were little,his siblings would sometimes come to his bedchamber at night,woken with bad dreams and teary-eyed,and snuggle up with him. Dreams where shades of past and future mingled in their eerie processions and truths were veiled with farce and symbols, Daeron knew without them telling. Aerion would come to him too, but with a face ghostly cold and serious beyond his years,the one he wore when he had no use for sweet smiles and pitiful tears. Still, he would crawl into his bed, seeking his warmth, Daeron remembered almost fondly, and if questioned on it he would tell him to shut up and go back to sleep. Now, Daeron spent less and less nights in his own bed.
"I have no intentions to sleep, brother." He took on a determined tone as he straddled his lap, one coltish leg after another.
"I want you take my maidenhead."
Daeron's head felt light and his body heavy. The words swam in the air and the figure in his lap doubled and wobbled.
"...What?"
"I've flowered like I ought to," he explained, "And Father locked me away like I did something wrong," his voice a venomous whisper. He began to move his hips in a slow, deliberate grind, trying to rouse his brother's interest.
Pinned to the bed, Daeron recalled of Aegon telling him of a time Aerion came into his room at night and put a knife between his legs, intent on, he says, making him an omega to keep him company, since he had too many alpha siblings. Egg was too young to see it as a jest it was, Daeron assured him at the time, but he found no humor in having his own cock cut off. He reached under Aerion's chemise to search for a hidden blade of sorts, his touch rewarded with a soft moan. The light, white fabric of the gown gave way to the candlelight and hid naught of his slender body. Cold of Daeron's room made his small tits perk up through the fabric. Gods be damned, now I'm thinking about it too. He also found that Aerion came to him bereft of any smallclothes, seemingly assured in his conquest, the little demon. Daeron felt rather naive for ever thinking his sweet little brother merely meant to sleep by him.
"It was hell," Aerion continued, now fumbling with the belt on his breeches. "For days I couldn't sleep, I couldn't eat, I just wanted to get fucked."
He has a mouth of a tavern wench when Father isn't around, Daeron smirked.
"That fridgid hag made me pray seven times a day, to the Maiden, for my sinful flesh," Aerion recalled bitterly, "I told her a dragon doesn't pray to the weak gods of sheep. She even struck me when I fought her." The memory brought him to anger and he tugged at the belt harshly. "When I asked father to have her punished he just told me she was doing as she was told."
No doubt, Daeron thought, Maidenvault was a fate his brother shared with all royal omegas that have resided in the Red Keep. He heard tales of lowborn omegas yet to be wed being kept through their heat in secluded sheds or barns, and he thought the lavish Maidenvault a deal better. Still, he didn't envy his brother's predicament.
"I will not forget this slight when I am made queen," Aerion went on, "I will find her, have all her fingers broken and her eyes plucked, and then I will sell her to the filthiest brothel in Fleabottom for a single copper." His face twisted into a pretty smile that made Daeron uneasy. He had little reason to doubt Aerion would be true to his word, should he wed Valarr and ascend the Iron Throne with him. Daeron cared little for for the stern-faced septa Scolacia that served to teach Aerion and their omega cousins mysteries of faith, but he hoped she will have the mind to run across the Narrow sea on the first ship that sets sail from Kings Landing when that day comes. People shall remember him as Aerion the Kind, no doubt.
"The wretched heat set my blood to boil and made me lose my wits, on the night of the fourth day I thought I was truly left alone to die," miserable,unshed tears now welled in his eyes, "I prayed someone would come,Valarr, Uncle Baelor, you, even Father, and take me. One night I crawled to the tall doors and smelled Ser Roland and Ser Donnel at the other side standing guard. I begged them to break the door and fuck me both,that father wont fault them for breaking their vow if in service to their prince, I called to them with my scent and scrapped my nails bloody on the door. Their scents changed with lust too, I could smell it clearly, before septa Scolacia came and dragged me back."
Aerion's story made Daeron's cock shamefully stir to life in his breeches,and harden when Aerion set about opening himself on his fingers,soft, frenzied gasps piercing the silence of the room. He seems curiously skilled at this for a maid of three and ten, Daeron thought, yet, he had little else to do during his time in the Maidenvault.
Watching the lithe fingers go in and out, he recalled a time a giggling courtesan from Summer Isles leaned on his shoulder and asked the prince to read him one of the erotic books they oft kept in better brothels, since he claimed to read the Common Tongue poorly. A caution for young omegas, or whatever was it's name, told an exaggerated life tale of an omega lady Coryanne Wylde in which she bedded all seven of King Jaehaerys' Kingsguard, passed around from one to another. Now he couldn't help but picture Aerion and his grandsire's seven in their place. If Aerion's dreams of becoming the Queen and the first dragonrider in the last seventy years go awry, mayhaps he could write a book about his adventures too. "How I almost made the good men of Kingsguard break their oath then settled for fucking my drunkard brother in a ploy to spite my father". Haha.
Cold fingers clasping around his cock sobered Daeron out of his musings. Aerion had one hand down his breeches, and on the other he was fucking himself like he was angry at his own cunt.
"You were out there, drinking and whoring, while I suffered on my own." He met his brothers cold gaze when a colder hand gripped his sex tighter, much to Daeron's terror.
He truly means to go along with this. The weight of his predicament struck him like a mace. Gods be good, I am going to fuck Aerion. He decided he would rather not.
"Why not go to Valarr then, he is your bethrothed. I would hate to give my cousin horns," Daeron tried to reason.
"Valarr is a coward and would tell Father and Uncle! If he was half the alpha his sire is, he would've made his way to the Maidenvault, killed anyone that came between him and me, and took me then and there, amongst the corpses."
It would appear his sweet brother,much like any other omega at his age, had his pretty head full of romantic tales of chivalrous knights and forlorn princes in towers. His just had a deal more bloodshed and corpses.
"If Valarr is a coward then urge Father to marry you off elsewhere." As far away from Kings Landing as possible, if I had any say.
Though he was seldom privy to his Father's and Grandsire's councils, he took notice of the many offers that came in on ravens and retinues from across the Seven Kingdoms and Free Cities, asking for the beautiful Prince Aerion's hand. One bold captain of a sellsword company even offered King Daeron Bittersteel's head in exchange for a marriage alliance. Daeron wondered if the sellsword was still in his pursuit, since a decapitated head seemed like a bride price his brother might favor.
Fools, all of them, thought Daeron, if only they knew just how sweet of a wife Aerion would make in truth. They reminded him of kitchen mutts begging for boiling water on the stove.
"I would never dilute my dragon blood with that of a stag or a trout," he glared at him sharply, "You shame our house enough by spilling your seed in any pox-ridden whorehouse in Fleabottom."
Aerion was forgetting himself. "Are you certain, dear brother," he mocked, "That you want what's been in a pox-ridden Fleabottom whore inside of your precious, royal-"
"Quiet. You will have my maidenhead or I will find a swordhilt to shove up my cunt, go straight to father with blood still running down my legs and tell him you took me by force." He didn't look nearly as intimidating as he meant, all flushed and teary-eyed, yet Daeron had half a mind to believe him. The little monster could spin a tale like no mummer could and all it took was a bat of his pretty eyelashes for their Father to take his word. He already believed his eldest son made for a weak alpha,and nothing Daeron did could sway him otherwise. He could screw his bothersome cunt of a brother,kiss him goodnight and throw him out, or die exiled in a ditch in Disputed Lands, mayhaps a moons turn into service of some free company his father would sent him off to in hopes of making him into an honorable man. Why play at chivalry now. Then Aerion broke into a sob.
"Why do you refuse me, brother?" He pleaded desperately, hot tears rolling down his cheeks. "Why do you seek a whore's bed when I am but a hallway away? Do you only favour omegas who have been had by half of King's Landing?" He sniffed and brought his hands up to wipe at his eyes,in a way a child would, one filthy with slick and other with Daeron's precome. Gods.
"Daeron," he said, his voice thin and quiet, "I don't want it to be some strange old, ugly lord. Please."
Aerion pouted and averted his gaze, gold and silver locks veiling his face. Willfull tantrums were nothing new from his brother, but Daeron had not seen him this miserable since their lady Mother died. His heart fell heavy with regret. While he drank his mind away, his siblings grew before him. His bothersome little brother blossomed into a peerless Valyrian beauty any knight of the realm would go to war for, yet he never looked more three and ten for the entire night than now,crying in his lap. I should have been with him. It was a mother's duty to teach their omega child all they must know to make a fine wife and mother themselves, but Stranger took his mother and left him a useless, drunkard brother.
Had the Gods given Aerion a different nature, he could have earned his glory on tourneys and battlefields, to match his hot dragon blood. If their lady Mother had lived, he migh have grown into a softer, sweeter omega. A life of bearing heirs and obeying his husband suited Aerion as much as the wretched jousts suited Daeron-not at all. I should have been a better brother to him.
Mayhaps it was the wine that made him bold and foolish. "Speak of this to no one," he sighed, and hoisted Aerion up from his lap and down to the bedding, turning them over to a mating position more becoming of a noble omega. He didn't miss a victorious smirk on Aerion's face, of a cat that got the sparrow, gone soon enough and schooled back into a look of a pure, clueless maiden.
"Daeron...", he whined,one hand traveling up to lift the chemise and staying to play with his tit, other going down to spread his pink, glistening cunt for fucking. Daeron eyed him with restraint. Long curls that could pass for spun gold and silver in dim candlelight, spead about the pillows, a coy look in his eyes, his pale, lithe body on display and the beckoning shimmy of hips painted an enticing image, not of a sheltered, unmated prince, but of an eager young courtesan worth a king's ransom in some of the best brothels in the Seven Kingdoms. He better have half a mind to look more innocent than this on his wedding night,the little brat. His cock had not gone any softer through his dallying, he realized. I should give him a good rough fucking he's asking for, Daeron thought, but decided against it, moving Aerion's fingers out of the way and shoving his own two in. His attentivness earned him a displeasured whine.
"Mhn, not that, put your-"
"Pipe down," he spat, "I wont have you crying to me later."
Soft gasps filled the room as he worked him open and grew into breathy moans when Daeron began to lay small kisses and teasing bites from his navel up to his chest, in a way he knew made omegas sweet. Emboldened with their shared lust, he moved Aerion's hair out of the way and took his earlobe into his mouth, sucking and softly biting. Aerion giggled in turn, a sound soft as little bells, his mummer's tears from before all dried up as soon as they served their purpose. I wouldn't mind hearing that more oft, Daeron thought, his mind light on a scent of happy, wanton omega, lively and potent this close to the gland. Their eyes locked in a daze and Aerion bared his neck to him with a daring look.
Not even if you brought a knife to my cock, Daeron thought with a smile, and twisted the fingers inside Aerion's cunt, hastening his pace.
"Aah~! I'm gonna... feels funny," he whined, flushed with approaching climax.
You know damn well what that feels like. He pulled the fingers out and gave his cock a few strokes. Aerion bit his lip and spread his legs some more, shivering with an eagerness to please, though mostly himself. He hardly got to press the tip of his cock to the wet enterance when Aerion thrust his hips up to meet him,a look on his face impatient and mean. If he were in heat, he would pluck my eyes to get to my cock. Daeron pinned his hips to the bed and looked down on where the two joined in an illicit kiss of flesh. Fervid grip of a virginal cunt forced an undignified sound out of him, and before he could move further, Aerion took him to the hilt in one swift push, pale legs locking around his waist like a vice.
"Ugh! Hurts!" he wailed like he was being taken against his will, with a look of unsettling joy about him.
If he were mine, I would smack that smirk off his face, Daeron thought, but why bother. It will be his future lord husband's place to beat the defiance out of him, and the little cunt will probably enjoy that, too. I ought to give him a good hard fucking he wants, he decided, then took Aerion by the hips, all but pulled out and began to fuck him in earnest, sparing no force to his movement. Aerion took it with the strength of a sturdy camp follower, every thrust rewarded with a moan, one desperate and wanton, the next giddy and eager, each honest and loud. Music of their coupling filled the prince's bedchamber, when he wasn't listening to the cries he was fucking out of his brother, he heard the obscene suckling sounds his slick-drenched cunt was making.
Aerion seemed hell-bent on waking half the Keep, shameless in his throes of pleasure. He would have to busy his indecent mouth too, before an odd servant or guard heard them from the hallway.
When they were little, he, Valarr and Aerion used to play at kissing when no one could see them, he recalled. It didn't make him feel anything at the time, but it made Aerion smile. It's been so long. Chasing a memory, he pressed a deep kiss onto his brother's soft lips, and got a charming squeal of surprise in return. Aerion kissed him in return, spirited and willing,pale arms latching around his shoulders with more force than he ought to have. With both his arms and legs, he held Daeron fast in a bodily embrace,as if he was afraid someone might come and drag him off of his cock. A viper coiling around it's poor prey.
Aerion broke the kiss and pressed his face into the crook of his neck, breathy moans filling his ears.
"Daeron, Daeron...!"
"Hm?"
The tight,wretched thing between his brother's legs choked a pained groan out of him, and with how hard it sucked, mayhaps it meant to choke the life out of him too, straight through his cock. Aerion threw his head back in throes of a climax, the wild fiery storm in his embrace begging for a knotting. I must pull out, while i still have my wits about me, Daeron thought, shifting his hips. Hard fucking made his head hot with a need to breed, but the thought of putting a bastard inside Aerion's belly made his blood run cold. He will do a kindness to the realm by finishing on his brother's tits. But Aerion was not as kind.
"What are you doing?", he managed in a low voice, broken by pleasure. "You will stop when I tell you to stop. Spill inside me." The grip around his shoulders and hips grew impossibly tighter.
"And here I thought I might salvage the last bits of my little brother's virtue," he sighed,resigned to his lot, "Thought we passed that threshold a while ago, didn't we?" Aerion gave him a sweet smile that almost reached his eyes. By Gods, I will find the little whore tommorow and pour a cup of moon tea down his throat even if he bit me and scratched me. He gave him a few more thrusts, as harsh as he could, like the little cunt deserved, before we was spilling in the waiting,virginal womb. His own climax left his mind blank and he never felt his knot take, but Aerion did, with how he gasped and writhed beneath him.
When he came to his senses, he looked down on where the two had joined in flesh. Blood seeped from the wound of their coupling, red and vivid even in the dim light of the room. A common omega's maidenhead is worth one golden dragon, Daeron recalled from somewhere, his mind in a daze, How many dragons would it take to claim a dragon's maidenhead? The high price of one noble house's elevated fealty, or loyalty of one Free City, or Bittersteel's head, soaked into the white linens of his bedding, much like all blood would.
Aerion made a soft whine, vying for his attention. "Did I bleed?"
"Aye." A queer spark of interest came and went from Aerion's eyes. The room was awfully cold, Daeron noticed, and reached for the blanket to cover them both. "The maids won't think much of it on my bed, but you best do away with the chemise if it's bloodied. And when you return to your chambers, bathe on your own. Servants talk." To Aerion's septa, and her to their father.
Aerion just looked up at him from where he was nestled in his arms, violet eyes soft with drowsy. He was strangly calm, that awful look of eerie nothingness he had when every other mask slipped about him.
"Does it hurt?" he asked, the years he had on his little brother weighing on his conscience.
"Uh-uh," he shook his head, tousled hair tickling at Daeron's neck.
"On the morrow, I will have the maester brew me moon tea, and bring it to you myself."
Aerion rolled his eyes, unbothered at the prospect of of ruining himself with a bastard at his young age. "Maester ruled my heat over two days ago, so there is nothing you should worry about."
"Still, you should drink it. It tastes like any other tea, I recon." Daeron pressed on, having heard of omegas quickening with child a week out of their heat.
"Fine," he scoffed. How troubling it must be for His Grace to have everyone in his family fret over his wellbeing.
Daeron felt as though he should say something else. "You know,first heat is always the worst. Next one wont come for a year and by then you will be used to it. Or so I've heard."
"From one of your whores?" Aerion whispered, with no true bite behind it.
"'Tis no business of yours," Daeron smiled,absently petting his gold and silver locks. "And by this time next year, you might not have to spend it alone," he added.
Small, warm body huddled closer, arms wrapping around him and their legs tangling beneath the covers. After his flowering, Aerion must have been wroth with thoughts of leaving the only home and family he has ever known and moving across the realm to warm a strange lord's bed and bear his heirs. Daeron imagined anyone would be, however much it was the natural way of the world. To Aerion's fortune, and to misfortune of everyone else, he was their father's favourite, and Prince Maekar would not give him away easily, even at the King's insistence. Aerion would like it best to be Valarr, heir of the heir to the Iron Throne, but King Daeron, who favored political outmarriages for his sons, had his eyes on an alliance with the current Archon of Tyrosh,through his omega daughter around Valarr's age. Though a new alliance with Tyrosh might sway Blackfyre influence that took root there, it scarcely seemed worth it just for the tantrum Aerion would throw. The poor girl might even end up saddled with Daeron.
"Just don't anger Father further and you will get what you want soon enough," he gave his well-meaning advice. "Valarr will be good to you."
"Daeron?" He shifted in his arms.
"Yes?"
"Forget it." Aerion nuzzled his face to the crook of his neck, where his scent was, taking it in with calm, even breaths. Daeron had the urge to plant a kiss on the top of his forehead, but never did. Aerion was still Aerion. What goes on in that pretty little head of yours,brother?
Daeron leaned into their embrace, in his gold and silver hair and filled his nose with the smell of him. He should open the window and let the fresh air in when the knot goes down, he thought,and the sleep took him.