Chapter Text
There had been very few times in Aerion’s life when he’d felt weak. It didn’t matter that he was an omega. There had been many who had tried to make him think he should behave in a certain way due to his designation, who had tried to tame him and make him smaller. He recalled the weeks after he’d presented, when the alpha lords who’d been at King’s Landing had chuckled and insisted that this would temper him and make him more obedient.
Omegas are always sweeter and easier to manage, they’d said. He’ll be a gentle little thing before you know it.
It had set off a fury inside Aerion, a blazing flame that made him feel like he could spew fire, like the dragons of old. In that moment, he’d wanted nothing more than to kill those lords. To nail their hands to a wooden board and scratch out their eyes with his own nails, to flay them open and cook them alive over an open fire. They thought his biology would calm him, make him kinder, softer, weaker. He’d decided then and there that he would be worse. They wanted him to be sweet? No, he would be vile. He would inflict the type of terror and dread upon them that they’d only read of in texts, and he would ensure that none of their sons dared marry him, for fear that he’d kill them in their sleep. The world had looked upon him and thought to make him a joke. Well, he would make certain they never laughed again.
A month after Aerion had presented, he’d been walking through the training yard when the son of some lord had chuckled and said he’d be better fit to attend dancing lessons than sword lessons. Aerion hadn’t shouted or snarled. No, he’d simply approached the young lordling with a sweet smile. Once he was directly in front of him, he’d pulled his blade and grabbed him by the left ear, holding him still as he sliced it clean off. The boy had screamed as blood poured from the wound on the side of his head, but Aerion had only stuffed the nub of flesh into his open mouth before throwing him to the ground and finally snarling in his face.
What’s the matter? Don’t you like my dancing?
The boy’s father had been furious of course, but that hadn’t mattered to Aerion. Why should a dragon concern himself with the whimpering’s of a nobody? Aerion’s father had scolded him, but when he’d insisted that he’d only done it to protect his honor, the whole thing had been swept away and put to rest. After that, he’d quickly built himself a reputation. By the time he was fifteen, nobody snickered or made snide remarks in his presence. Nobody cooed or caressed him and gone were the remarks about him being gentle. Often, the rooms would go quiet when he entered. He preferred it that way. Anything was better than being perceived as weak.
Eight weeks ago, at the tourney at Ashford… some may have seen that as weakness. When he’d let his nature get the better of him and the heat had been too much the bare, and he’d taken that brute of an alpha into his bed. But to Aerion, that hadn’t felt like weakness at all. No, when he’d taken Duncan deep inside of his body and felt the strong, iron grip of his hands on his hips, all he’d felt was raw power. Finally, an alpha whose scent wasn’t putrid. An alpha with the gall and nerve to fight back, to throw Aerion to the ground and then take him in his bed like no one ever had before.
Aerion had hoped that after he left that tourney and returned home, he would forget that hedge knight and put it all past him. That hadn’t happened. No, despite how he’d tried to forget, nearly every moment of his time was now consumed by the lingering smell of orange blossoms in the spring. Maybe it was Aerion’s own fault. After he’d sent Duncan on his way, he’d crawled back into bed and rolled around in the bedsheets, inhaling the saturated scent the alpha had left behind. He’d fingered himself five times that day as he relived the night before, but nothing satisfied him. He worried that nothing else ever would after having such a perfect alpha fuck him through his first ever shared heat.
It certainly hadn’t helped his claim that he wanted to forget when he’d packed up the bedsheets in a trunk all to themselves and had them brought back to Summerhall, where he’d added them to his nest. Each night he laid in the lingering scent of Ser Duncan and tried to not feel empty. His dreams were plagued by wide blue eyes and the kind of rough skin somebody only got from endless work and exposure to the elements. He often woke gasping, covered in sweat and slick as the feeling of lips on his skin faded into the dark along with the rest of his memories.
The gods were cruel, evil beasts to make a prince of the blood scent mates with a lowborn hedge knight. They were rare, scent mates, but not unheard of. His own parents had been. When it occurred between nobility, measures were often taken to ensure the pair could be mated, as it was cruel to keep a biologically perfect pair apart. Of course, there was occasionally obstacles, such as one member already being wed. Those instances got messy. But as far as Aerion knew, no noble had even been scent mates with a lowborn.
Scent mates were supposed to ensure the optimal offspring. In the eyes of kings and lords, their blood was superior to all others, so no lowborn would ever be worthy. And while Aerion would have whole heartedly agreed with that sentiment eight weeks ago, his mind had shifted as of late. While Duncan may have been born in a gutter and raised among rats, he was strong. Massive, with wide shoulders and thick muscles that protected him from the dangers of the road. He was built like a storm, a raging force that once it got started, could rip a tree from the earth. His intellect may be lacking, but that was where Aerion came in. To combine that size and strength with the blood of the dragon? That child would be unstoppable.
Aerion had begun to think of it constantly. His and Duncan’s child would be perfect, an immaculate little dragon with the strength to take on all the challenges this world might throw at them. And it was a good thing too, because Aerion was now certain that he was with child.
Of course he’d known it was likely to happen, having mated multiple times while in heat, but it simply hadn’t been real to him until he’d noticed that change in his scent and body. It had started out faint, just the slightest shift to the undertones of his smell and an ache in his chest. But now, eight weeks later, the signs were unavoidable. His scent had entirely shifted and there was a small bulge in the fatty layer of his lower stomach. To anyone else it would look as if he were merely bloated, but Aerion knew the truth. He was pregnant, and before too long, he would give birth to Duncan’s perfect, giant baby.
Nobody else had noticed, thankfully. Typically, a pregnant omega would be obvious to everyone who came in contact with them, due to their change in scent. But those who lived in close proximity to Aerion had long learned to tune out his scent, which he knew they found repugnant. Good. That would give him time to make a plan and keep his baby safe for a little while longer. His father was sure to be furious. Aerion wasn’t sure what he would do, but he would rather come up with a plan before he had to find out. Because one thing was for certain, nobody would take his baby away. He was a dragon, and a dragon would burn the world to ash should their young be ripped away from them.
He found his hands resting on his stomach now more often than not, tracing idle circles as if he could feel the life growing inside him. Ever since he had presented, he had fought against the notion that it was his duty and destiny to sire children, to be wed and bred like nothing more than a brood mare. In those first few years he would lay awake at night, thinking of ways he could get out of that pathetic, empty existence. But now that he was with child, his perspective had shifted considerably. In part because he had done this on purpose. Maybe it was stupid, and it certainly was reckless, but most of all it had been his choice.
When he’d fucked that giant knight and allowed himself to be knotted, he had felt powerful. Not in a fleeting, passing way like when he caused someone pain or fear, but in a way that was steady and grounded. It was a choice that was entirely his, with no interference from his father or uncle. And though he couldn’t fully allow himself to admit it, it was the first time in his life that he had felt desired by someone with no ulterior motives. Duncan hadn’t even wanted him to be pregnant and carrying his bastard, as proven by his questions about the moon tea the morning after. It would have been easy for the hedge knight to have left the moment his rut was over, to push Aerion off and climb out of bed. But he hadn’t. He had stayed, and before he’d left, he told Aerion that he was his if he wanted him. And though he’d tried to deny himself, there was no doubt in his mind that Ser Duncan the Tall, the lowborn hedge knight with no names or titles, was the only alpha in the kingdom whom he would allow himself to be bound to.
In part because the man would hold no true power over him, at least not in the same sense as if he was sent off to live in the castle of some powerful lord. Aerion would be able to retain his name, as Duncan had none to give him, which would then pass to their children. It was also an unavoidable fact that the hedge knight was kind. Duncan would never try to harm him, nor did he seem the type to want to control an omega. With some alpha lords, Aerion knew he would essentially be locked away within a castle with only the purpose of shoving out a child every year until he died from it. That wouldn’t be the case with Duncan. Aerion would hold all the power, he knew he would, and the more he thought about it, the more he needed to make it a reality.
But how to make it so? His father would never agree to it if he simply outright stated he wanted to wed the hedge knight. Aerion knew his father thought of him as an impulsive person who had no idea what would actually be best for himself. That meant the only way to get what he wanted was to somehow make his father think it was his idea.
Aerion stood at the balcony of his room, looking down at the battle yard bellow. Men trained together, the sound of metal ringing and laughter drifting up to him. He rubbed gentle circles on his stomach as he watched, a habit he’d picked up in the last two weeks. He liked to imagine he could feel his babe move inside of him already, could feel the slither of scales and the hot breath of fire warming his womb. If the gods were good, this babe would be as big as their sire. A hulking dragon, large enough to cut down their enemies with ease. Surely that was why Duncan was his scent mate. If he could have him as his husband and alpha, they would fill their royal line with pure strength and power.
Every night, as he settled into his nest of sheets, he imagined what it would be like to see Duncan’s face again. Would the knight be glad to see him? He’d be glad to feel his cunt around his cock again, that was for certain. But would he want to be a father? Would he want to bind himself to Aerion forever? Ha, of course he would. The great brute would never receive a better offer than a Targaryen omega prince as his mate. And even if he didn’t want it, Aerion was force him to accept his hand. It was only right. Aerion deserved to have what he wanted. The stupid knight was barely intelligent enough to string two thoughts together, let alone know what was best for him.
The sound of footsteps approaching made him stiffen. When he glanced over his shoulder, he saw it was only one of his father King’s Guard.
“My prince, your father requests your immediate presence in his solar.”
Aerion hummed absently, removing his hand from his stomach. It wouldn’t do to cause suspicion. “And what exactly does my father want with me?”
The knight bowed his head. “He did not say, my prince. Only that he wanted you there at once.”
“Very well.”
He stepped around the knight without another glance. As he made his way through the corridors, he rehearsed the words he might use and the subtle ways he could twist the conversation to plant the idea of allowing him to marry Duncan in his father’s mind without making it seem as if it were something he was desperate for. Whatever the summons entailed, Aerion was resolved. He would not leave the solar without setting his plan in motion. There was little time left before he began to show.
His father sat at a table, reading a scroll when he entered. Maekar’s gaze flicked up to Aerion, subtle notes of annoyance mingling with his scent. That was common as of late, with Aerion consistently undercutting the families plans for him. He gave his father his most unassuming smile.
“You wished to see me, father?”
“I did. Sit.”
Aerion swanned gracefully to the chair across from his father, lowering himself into it with all the dignity befitting his station. Maekar watched him with his signature grimace, as if Aerion was doing something to purposefully annoy him. He wasn’t. It just seemed that anything he did now pushed his father to the edge.
“You look serious, father. I hope all is well.”
Maekar tossed his papers onto the desk. “Don’t act as if don’t know why I’ve called you here. I’ve been in correspondence with your grandfather, and he agrees that it is passed time you married and were mated. You’ve chased away more than a dozen alpha lords who would have been suitable husbands or wives for you, and now none of them will even consider you. You’ve built a reputation, Aerion, and many of the great houses have no interest in joining with an omega they fear will slit their throats in their sleep.”
Aerion tutted and crossed his legs. “I wouldn’t do it in their sleep. I’d want them to know it was me.”
“Damn it, Aerion!” Maekar shouted, slamming his fist down on the table. Aerion didn’t flinch. “Why do you insist on making things harder for everyone? For yourself? If you keep this up, I’ll be forced to wed you to someone who has no fear of you, but not out of love. There are alpha’s who would love nothing more than to break you. Is that what you want?”
“Break me?” Aerion growled, baring his teeth. “I would like to see them try. They’d have to kill me first.”
Maekar rubbed a hand over his eyes. “Gods. I do not want anyone to break you. You’re my son. I’d rather see you happily mated, and if not happily, then tolerably. What can be done so that you’ll choose someone?”
Aerion leaned back in his chair, his hand absently returning to his stomach. An idea came to him then, an idea that would either give him exactly what he wanted or destroy him. As he stared at his father’s tired face, a plan began to form that made the fire inside his veins burn a little brighter.
“Let the gods decide.”
“What?” Maekar asked, pulling his hand from his face.
“The Gods know best, do they not? Let’s hold a tourney, here at Summerhall, for any lords or knights who wish to win my hand. Whoever wins, I will marry.”
His father stared at him as if he’d lost his mind. “That is madness. Neither you nor I would have any say in that matter. What if a hideous beast wins?”
Oh, a beast of a man would surely win. Aerion would make sure of it. But he wasn’t hideous. “The Gods would not allow an unworthy alpha to win the hand of a Targaryen prince. I have faith that whoever wins will be the best alpha for the continued strength of our family.”
“Don’t speak to me about the Gods, boy,” Maekar said as he stood and walked to the window. “You and I both know they are cruel and uncaring for our suffering.”
He was silent for several minutes, and Aerion could see that he was thinking it over. This plan was possibly foolish, as it relied on the participation and dependability of Ser Duncan, but it was all he could think of that would ensure he had the alpha he wanted and wouldn’t have to reveal to the court that he was carrying a bastard. This wasn’t just for his sake now, but for the safety and protection of his child. If Duncan came, he would protect them.
“Why?” his father eventually asked. “Why, after all this time, is this the method you choose to find mate?”
Aerion pressed a little more firmly against his belly. “You know I honor the traditions of our ancestors, father. In old Valyria it was common for noble alphas to battle for the hand of an omega. If I must marry, let it be to the strongest alpha. The tallest.”
Maekar sighed, and Aerion knew he had won. He fought to keep the grin off his face.
“Very well. If that is what you want, I shall see it done. I will send out the ravens and in six weeks’ time we will hold a tourney for your hand. And you will marry whoever wins?”
“I will,” Aerion said, lifting his chin. And he would, because Duncan would win this tournament.
“His father nodded, his face grim. “Fine. If this is what it takes, I’ll consider it a small price. You may go. I have much to prepare.”
Aerion stood and inclined his head. He turned to go, but stopped before he could take more than a few steps. “Oh, and father? If this is to be a grand tourney for my hand, I would like all our family to be in attendance. You should write to Aegon and tell him to return.”
“Hmm. Last I heard, he and that lowborn hedge knight were headed for Horn Hill.”
“That isn’t terribly far. They should be able to arrive with plenty of time.”
Maekar hesitated, his hand resting on the stone sill of the window. “It will be done. Aegon will be summoned, as will the others. If you wish for this to be a spectacle, you shall have it, and all of Westeros will witness it.”
Apprehension stirred low in Aerion’s stomach. “Thank you, father.”
He left his father’s solar and made his way back to his room, excitement and anxiety warring within him. There were many ways that this could go wrong. If Duncan lost, Aerion would be given away to whatever brute had bested him, and there would be very little he could do about it. By the time of the tourney, he would be fourteen weeks with child, and though he was sure he could hide it with his chainmail and tunic, once his clothes came off it would likely be obvious to anyone who saw him.
Aerion reached his room and shut the door behind him, and only once he was alone, did he allow himself to consider the other possibility. What if Duncan didn’t want him? Didn’t want them. He had seemed like a good and honorable knight, and he was his scent mate, but if he didn’t want to fight for Aerion’s hand… He would be lost. What if Duncan had only wanted him for a night and nothing more? He had told him to take moon tea, after all. What if he’d been fucking other omegas since going on the road?
Fury and jealousy erupted inside Aerion. He had wanted to send his men after the hedge knight, to watch him and ensure he remained faithful, but had been unable to do so in a way that wouldn’t draw attention. If he had laid with another omega, Aerion would have them killed. Duncan was his alpha. Even if he didn’t want to be bound and mated to Aerion, surely a child would force him to stay. It was an instinct built into the very foundation of an alpha.
Besides, it didn’t matter what the alpha wanted. Aerion wanted him, and so he would have him. The great brute would do his duty; Aerion was sure of it. They were scent mates. It was meant to be. And if not, well… Aerion would just have to kill them both.