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Should Baelor even be alive?
He wasn’t sure.
Was Baelor even still alive?
Now that was the question.
All he could remember is approaching Ser Duncan before his helmet was being removed, then the growing pain in the back of his head suddenly felt numb and he couldn’t even think properly before he was stumbling to the ground and then—.
And then nothing.
Until now.
There was still the terrible throb in the back of his skull making even his eyes ache as he woke up.
The fluorescent glare of the light above him didn’t make it any better nor the walls.
The walls.
So painstakingly yellow it only elevated the pain.
“Fuck”. The man sat up whilst he held the back of his head against his hand— his hand that felt no such kind of wound— his hand that wasn’t clad in his gauntlets anymore which made Baelor quickly look over himself.
He wasn’t in any sort of armor either, just a tunic and his breeches, the very same ones he had underneath all of that steel.
None of this was making any sort of sense yet Baelor didn’t know what woe to focus on first.
The fact he didn’t know his surroundings? Or that he had no clue where he was or how he got here nor why he had an incessant whisper at the back of his mind telling him;
Something is wrong.
Despite all the literal headache, the man stood up, trying to gather himself as he looked around the too-plain walls, an ugly color not even he would fathom to choose for decor.
He wondered what Maekar would think of the place— ah.
Maekar.
The panic that suddenly rose in Baelor was like nothing he’d ever— no, he was thinking a lie.
Baelor had felt similar during the Blackfyre Rebellion when he had thought Maekar had been hurt beyond recovery, when he couldn’t find him through the numerous soldiers on the battlefield since they’d both strayed away from each other, caught up in their own bloodlust.
But now there wasn’t the chaos of battle nor the sound of men screaming as swords clashed together and flesh was torn into.
Instead there was nothing besides the echo of Baelor’s voice as he yelled out;
“Maekar!”
The silence was deafening.
If Baelor was any less astute maybe he would have thought himself truly perished but he knew what death was, he’d touched it too many times to count and he was positive that this wasn’t it.
Death was much more desolate.
Fuck.
So either the God’s were playing a trick on him or this was a very strange dream, he hoped to the Seven it was the latter lest he might find himself begging them for forgiveness, whatever he had done to deserve such a divine punishment.
“Maekar!” Baelor yelled out again even if it was futile, though this time he ventured forward, eyes casting across the vast expanse of the room that seemed to be neverending, Baelor wasn’t even sure if he could vision an end to the maze.
Baelor frowned but still kept his wits about himself as he walked on.
The rooms started to diverge into endless hallways, corridors leading to the same thing over and over again, Baelor might have thought himself walking in circles if it wasn’t for the suddenly appearance of furniture embedded into the walls, the floors and the ceiling, something he’d see at Ashford Castle but then he’d seen a Targaryen banner half way into the floor like it was suspended from nowhere.
Baelor passed his hand over it in an attempt to find the hidden string but there was absolutely nothing holding it up.
“What?” The man muttered to himself under his breath, it didn’t make a lick of sense but then again, none of this did.
Especially not the bottle in the middle of the floor suddenly in front of him, was it always there and Baelor had disregarded it? He didn’t know but he found himself reaching down to grab the plastic in his hand and stared at the label.
What in the Seven Hell’s was Almond Water?
The sudden urge that rose upon him to drink because his throat felt so sore and parched came out of practically nowhere, like the bottle had a hex on it that drained all of his nutrients.
Baelor knew it was foolish to consume something he didn’t know whether was contaminated or poisoned and yet in the next moment he was unscrewing the cap and downing it all at once.
He felt rejuvenated, just for a moment until he faltered, the after taste too sweet on his tongue and his mind began to cloud.
Well shit.
He was absolutely a fool.
Baelor couldn’t stop himself from grimacing, throwing the bottle to the ground as he took a step forward— then another but God’s above if he thought his mind was before, he couldn’t explain what it would be now, especially with the sudden heat rising in him making even his smallclothes that covered his body feel tight.
“What the fuck was in that thing?”
Baelor could only mutter to himself quietly knowing damn well he’d potentially caused his own downfall in such a foreign place.
The feeling got worse every step he took, the sensation in his loins stirring and the Alpha couldn’t help but groan pathetically, both from embarrassment and arousal.
Now he was doubting this wasn’t one of the Seven Hell’s, or at the very least it was some sort of purgatory he’d been subjected to in his death for his sins— or well the one sole sin he ever committed;
Lusting after his dear younger brother.
“Maekar”. Baelor whispered under his breath, the Omega on his thoughts again as they soon twisted into debauchery that Baelor was feeling guilt stricken about because these desires could be the reason that had got him here in the first place.
It’s the only thing that made sense in this nonsensical place.
“Seven fucking Hell’s”.
Baelor complained again as he took a pause to stare down at his tented crotch, he knew it was even more unwise to reach his hand down and cup his palm over his growing arousal, but he did it anyway, the touch sending a sliver of relief through him but it wasn’t enough.
It was never going to be enough.
It dawned on him that liquid, the Almond Water had jumpstarted his rut somehow and Baelor knew damn well he should be panicking more but all he could think was with his cock.
Certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
If this wasn’t the Hell’s then he surely would be jumping headfirst into them when he woke up again— assuming this was all a dream— as Baelor’s hand untied his breeches and shoved his fingers around his cock, pulling it out and giving it a rather harsh jerk.
He hissed a sigh of relief, head tilting back as he guided himself to lean against the wall, already using all the vigour he could muster to pump at his cock.
Baelor’s hand worked up and down himself, squeezing his eyes shut as the thoughts of Maekar circulated in his mind so clear as day; the man was practically in front of him, kneeling in this Godforsaken place with his expert mouth wrapped around him or Maekar’s own calloused hand guiding over his cock again and again.
Baelor could imagine himself in one of the rooms in Ashford just resting, perhaps he was so doped up on Milk of the Poppy and that’s why his assumed dream was so obscure, though that didn't explain how it felt so real.
Then again, maybe he wouldn’t even remember what had transpired here when he woke up.
God’s above, he hoped for his own sanity; this was a dream.
Baelor groaned again, gripping himself tighter as his movements jerked his cock in no real pattern like he was just yearning for himself to get off already.
It was always easy for him to accumulate more fantasies of his dear Maekar;
Maekar bent over a desk, Maekar against the wall, Maekar whispering sweet nothings into his ear as the Omega rode him in the confines of their own chambers— or even in the Council Room after a specific meeting he’d personally attended as the King’s Hand.
The shame he was feeling never ceased despite Baelor indulging in his want, his teeth bit down into his bottom lip as a cry slipped from the back of his throat.
“Fuck, fuckfuckfuck”.
The thoughts became more apparent as he chased his orgasm, a crude and wicked notion passing his mind;
If Maekar were here, it would just be the two of them it seemed and Baelor didn’t need a bed to make his brother see stars by fucking his cunt to oblivion, even the floor would suffice.
He came all over his hands with a pathetic noise as his back slumped against the off-yellow wall.
Baelor’s chest heaved up and down and for a moment his eyes squeezed shut as if when he opened them again he’d be waking up in his bed with Maekar laid next to him, sound asleep.
When he opened them again, his environment ceased to change.
“Shit”. The curse fell from Baelor’s lips and maybe if he was any less— uh, intoxicated, he might have started panicking much more than he had been initially.
His mind was still plagued with sultry thoughts of his little brother along with his impending doom, it was a strange mix between lust and absolute dread.
Baelor ended up wiping his sullied hand on the wall instead of his shirt because apparently his depravity couldn’t get any worse but the arousal was back building up inside of him yet it felt even worse than before, like the first orgasm was just the beginning.
He cursed again, hand wrapping back around his sensitive cock that was slowly filling back to hardness.
Then he heard it.
The rustling sound and then footsteps, a large shadow being illuminated by the lights above him becoming more and more apparent as it came closer to where he was behind the corner.
Baelor gulped, yet the depravity of himself pumped his cock again, perhaps he could blame it on the fear welling inside his heart, mixing with his too-large libido and that stupid drug he’d drunk.
Baelor was trying to find anyway to seek morality in his actions even though he lost his moral compass many moons ago and he’d been so lost in his argument with his own conscience that he hadn’t noticed the shadow revealing itself.
Baelor expected something terrible but no, it was just his brother, his Maekar staring back at him.
The blond’s mouth slowly fell open as he observed Baelor in front of him, cock still in hand and still slowly pleasuring himself.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
How was Baelor supposed to answer that?
Maekar had seen his cock too many times to count, had it inside of him one way or another the same amount of times too but sure, maybe Maekar did have a point when Baelor was in an unknown place he’d just so happened to wake up in, fresh from a battle and the first thing he did was pull his dick out even if it was warranted because of that damn water.
“It’s not—”.
Not what it looks like?
Yeah, right.
“Great Seven please show my brother mercy”. Maekar murmured to himself, seemingly more put together than Baelor because one;
He hadn’t drunk anything that he didn’t know the properties of, it’s how many imbeciles got poisoned and two;
He was simply Maekar Targaryen.
“He only seems to think with his cock in every instance, losing his damn senses everywhere lately”. Maekar would have thought Baelor had started to lose himself to madness but madness didn’t cause excessive carnality.
No, apparently Maekar’s mere presence caused that.
“Just, put it away for the love of all that is holy”.
Maekar wasn’t even sure what he had expected if he found someone he recognised here, definitely not the image of his brother with cock in hand.
Though his eyes drifted towards the headache inducing wallpaper only for realization to settle in his mind when he noticed the peculiar stain there.
Baelor cannot be serious.
“What is wrong with you?” Maekar asked him but the moment he looked back at his elder brother, Baelor was abruptly grabbing hold of him and forcing his face into Maekar’s neck.
“Fuck, you smell divine, little brother”.
Perhaps Maekar’s whimper that sounded from the back of his throat only fuelled Baelor’s licentiousness but how could the Omega help himself when his Alpha was being so forward.
“Baelor”. Maekar still growled, the growing redness to his face not making his feigned distaste anymore believable.
But then they heard it, or at the very least Maekar did;
Footsteps.
“Brother”.
Maekar reached out and grabbed ahold of Baelor’s hair, tugging his head back from his neck.
“Do you hear that?”