Chapter Text
The cloaked figure leisurely sipped wine from his cup as the merriments went on around him. A gold ring on his little finger glinted and shone from the lit sconces, as bright as the wicked grin in the figure's face as he watched the scene unfold, another player falling square into the cyvasse board he had played for years.
"It is done, my prince," a soldier says lowly as he passed by.
The nobleman played with the golden coin in his hand before handing it to the soldier.
"Call your liege. I wish to leave."
The figure waited only for a few turns of the dancers in the middle of the room before another man emerged and sat across him.
"Ñuha dārilaros," the man addressed. He smelled heavily of rutting, the sweet thick scent of omega clinging to his golden skin with a tinge of blood, a maidenhead freshly broken. The figure licked the tip of his canines on instinct.
"My congratulations on your wedding, Narrios. The pair of you were the very picture of romance."
The newcomer barked out a laugh.
"Many thanks, my prince. It is all your doing."
"I trust you will keep your omega happy. Keep him busy with the right things," the figure smirked, later shared by the man across.
"I shall, and I will surely write to you of my omega and my good family. As we said, my prince, it is done."
The cloaked figure left the manse with sure steps, taking in his victory. The songs, the dancing, the wandering hands in the hallways all added to his jovial disposition. People made way for him subconsciously, the dark, heavy cloak unable to conceal danger, raising hackles everywhere he went.
It was not always this way.
He thought himself a man when he crossed the Narrow Sea to this foreign land. He had been eight and ten with dead sons and then a dead wife. The crown bade him to entreat with the archon of Tyrosh, smooth out the creases brought by Kiera's death and the growing influence of the Blackfyre pretenders in the city. The directive was clear: bring Tyrosh back to the dragons' fold and report everything he could learn about the bastard house back.
He did it all, and more. Ten years saw him transform from the prince who fought only old knights and green boys in tourneys to a feared warrior, a true prince of the blood. When his father's gigantic shadow ceased to cover him all the way to this city, all the burden in his shoulders lifted, the shackles binding his claws all broke loose. This is his city. Not Baelor's. Not the Blackfyres'.
"My prince, your uncle wrote. The Lord Bloodraven commends Crown Prince Valarr Targaryen for arranging the wedding of Aenys Blackfyre and Narrios Frazaro, and his well wishes extend to the mated pair, it said," reported his page.
Valarr nodded, uncaring. He expected his uncle's letters whenever it involves the Blackfyres and his machinations to bring them under control. Narrios is one of his most loyal men, borne from a Martell mother and a Tyroshi father and an original member of his retinue of knights when he first set foot in the city. Daemon Blackfyre had seven remaining children by 209 AC and he had already neutralized five. Daemon I was intercepted by Bloodraven in the Riverlands because of Valarr's informants a hair's breadth away from Baelor's coronation.
At four and twenty, Valarr faced Haegon Blackfyre at the second battle of Bloodstones, the island where their ancestor, the Rogue Prince, killed the Crabfeeder. The battle lasted for two days and two nights, where Valarr had slain Annar and Viserys Blackfyre and mortally wounded Haegon who barely managed to escape when the pretender army fell back. For his prowess in the battlefield, he became the subject of songs from Myr to King's Landing for months and months.
The dragon had three heads, and then it had none.
Aenys Blackfyre was an issue. Valyrian coloring, popular among lords, and an alpha besides, Valarr had to resort to more…unconventional solutions. A few moonturns later, he and his men were preparing for a wedding instead of war. Aenys Blackfyre's fall into his hands was less glorious than that of his brothers but it gave Valarr more pleasure than any kill in a while. Narrios, that lucky bastard.
"There is more, my prince," the page uttered nervously.
"What is it? Be quick with it for I wish to rest. I am off to Dragonstone early on the morrow."
The boy grew more unsettled.
"T-the news, my prince—Dragonstone is occupied."
Valarr stopped in his tracks.
"Occupied?"
Last he knew, Dragonstone was run by their castellan Ser Godwyn Farring since Baelor returned to his duties as Hand after Ashford and later as king, and Valarr went to Essos. Matarys lives in the Red Keep with their father. Valarr planned to finally go home after this wedding and assume his duties as the official Prince of Dragonstone.
"Aye, by your uncle, Prince Maekar."
That earned the page a sharp look from Valarr. His uncle Maekar?
"Why?"
"It is not known why, my prince. Only that His Grace the king sent Prince Maekar alone to Dragonstone not very long ago, and that you are strictly directed to return to the Red Keep an-and not to your island…" the boy's voice wavered at the sight of Valarr's enraged one.
He ignored the yelp at the other side of the door when he slammed the blasted thing close.
—
Valarr did not sleep.
Why would his father give Dragonstone to Maekar Targaryen, his youngest brother, and not to Valarr, his eldest son?
"To Dragonstone, my prince?" the captain of his ship asked. He shook his head.
"To Blackhaven."
—
They rode fast and hard through the Boneway, not stopping even by Blackhaven castle that had been his mother's home. Most of his belongings were left on the ship and secured by his uncle's men until he sends for them. Now, time is of the essence if he wanted to get back at Maekar for taking his castle and birthright. Valarr had with him fifty of his best and fiercest fighters.
He will take Summerhall by nightfall.
If Maekar is in Dragonstone, the castle would only be lightly fortified and could be easily taken. Aerion might put up a fight if he was there but he knew that his cousin is in the capital with Aegon. Even if he was in Summerhall, he would be too big and heavy with child if the reports were true to give a real fight. That would leave Daeron. The mere thought of his eldest cousin sent a lightning through his veins. It had been too long since Valarr saw him.
"I feared this would happen," said Daeron, forlorn in his seat by the fire. The two of them sat vigil while Baelor slept from his injury.
The omega wrapped his cloak tighter and closed his eyes as if using them was a chore, as if merely drawing breath tires him.
"You dreamed of this?" asked Valarr, kneeling by Daeron's chair so they would be eye to eye. "You saw my father fall?"
Daeron nodded curtly, eyes still closed, lips mumbling visions none of them knew how to elucidate.
"I was not sure the dragon survived. I cou-could not know for certain…but I pray uncle would wake up soon. I am sorry, cousin," the omega gasped.
"Thank you, Daeron. Thank you for staying with me tonight," Valarr said. The omega's eyes are open now, his lovely lilac eyes glassy and pinned only at him.
Valarr's eyes fluttered close at the feeling of Daeron's lips on his. It was oh so soft, not even a proper kiss, and it was over before he could think better. There were long, lithe fingers carding gently through the white of his dual colored hair.
"My sweet Valarr," Daeron cooed, tender in the way no one else knew but him.
The sight of the marvelous castle brought Valarr back from his reverie. Maekar brought his children immediately back to Summerhall after that night and Valarr did not see Daeron again. If things go well the way he planned, his cousin would be greeting him upon his arrival tonight.
As expected, there were only a few guards manning the gate and the walls and they were easily knocked out by his soldiers. It is the hour of the owl, only moments away from the hour of the wolf, and no servant could be found wandering the lit halls. Valarr easily maneuvered his way inside the keep, the unlucky few who had been awake quickly silenced with a well placed hit to send them to sleep. Soon enough, the castle was taken over by Valarr and his men, many of them rounding up the servants' quarters to contain whoever may raise protests.
Valarr silently stalked inside the longest, grandest hallway when he heard hurried footfalls. A terrified servant managed to go undetected by his men. Valarr immediately gave chase. There was a squeak and a thud when the servant failed to knock at a door because Valarr had tackled her to the rug.
"W-who are you-!"
Valarr's hand clamped at the woman's mouth before he gave her a smile.
"I am your prince, Valarr. I meant no harm," the woman's spooked eyes grew larger at his words.
"M-m-my prince. I wi-" her eyes promptly rolled to the back of her head when Valarr hit her neck, not enough to injure but enough to silence. He reclined her against the wall and stood up in front of the door the woman tried to knock on.
Daeron's chambers.
His mouth watered.
—
Daeron felt the familiar stirring of a dream consuming him. Terror briefly passed him. Had he not taken enough milk of the poppy to stop this? But he succeeded for a few moons now, managed to wean himself off of wine and instead taken a small dose of the milk with his nightly tea as Aemon taught him. Enough to send him to sleep without being plagued by his mind but safe enough to not damage his body further. Why is it starting again?
In his dreamstate, there is a hand running through his hair. He scented…burned wood and resin. Not like Aegon's which was akin to a bonfire and fresh earth. This scent is more like an ancient tree struck down by lightning and was left to burn from the canopy to the ground. Like amberwood. Daeron's body vibrated at the sensation, his inner omega has not smelled anything as divine.
It was a familiar scent. Daeron slowly opened his eyes.
Oh.
"Valarr," he whispered, a blinding smile on his face even as his eyes struggled to part completely from sleep.
What a good dream.
Dream-Valarr returned the smile, barely an arm's length away from him.
"Valarr, you're home," he murmured.
"Did you think of me while I was away?" Dream-Valarr asked. Daeron only nodded.
Soft lips were kissing at his collarbones. Daeron sluggishly settled his hand atop the alpha's hair.
"Your hair," he started. "It's white…"
Valarr laughed against his chest, the rumbles warming him inside.
"Only at the back."
The lips were back again. Daeron squirmed, making space for the alpha atop him. This has been the most novel dream he had. Never in his life had he envisioned his princely cousin visiting his chambers, kissing up his neck…when he was eight and ten, he kissed Valarr once without much thought. He told himself it was to soothe his guilt for his cousin whose father had just been struck by his own. Daeron closed his eyes, ready for sleep again, comforted by a glimpse of his cousin whom he had not seen in a decade.
His eyes flew open at the feeling of a hot tongue wetting the fabric of his shift where it was covering his breast. Dream-Valarr, the mischievous alpha, started suckling at his teat while he was still dressed. A hand crawled up to cup his other teat, weighing the flesh, testing how his palm molds into it. He chanced a look at Valarr and found the alpha's eyes blown wide, staring straight at him as he fondled and grazed his teeth at Daeron's nub.
"Valarr…" the omega placed his hand at the alpha's shoulders.
He gulped when the hand on his chest crawled down. Down to his belly, to his womb, to the apex of his thighs. A wandering finger tried to lodge itself inside Daeron's cavern and it strained against the clothing he wore, making him squirm again. The finger removed itself but the feeling of a warm hand leisurely massaging his cunt above his shift had him slicking in his bed. Daeron saw the glint of the alpha's canines before he was hit with the scent of arousal, of anticipation. It had him spreading his thighs subconsciously, had him sleepily rocking his hips against the hand that was coaxing all these little noises from him. The alpha in his dream dislodged from his chest, leaving a wet patch on the fabric where his nipple was directly under.
"You have filled out so nicely, cousin," Dream-Valarr commented.
It was a gallant way of saying that Daeron got fat. After Ashford, there was a lull in their household where everyone, including Maekar, had been frightened of picking a weapon up. As if a string was cut, Daeron was suddenly left at peace in his choice to not train nor joust nor fight again. As an omega, however, his body developed in a different way than he expected. His belly remained soft from the wine, yes, but his thighs grew and grew and soon none of his breeches fit him at the waist anymore. His chest, previously kept tightly bound by cloth for ease of movement in fights, had grown many sizes bigger. He had seen his siblings' wet nurses in the midst of feeding before, and even when filled with milk they did not hold a candle to the size that Daeron's teats had ballooned into. It was a source of unease for the omega. He is tall, taller than some alphas even, and he could see how people's gazes fall to his chest when talking to him. It was disconcerting. To have Valarr lavish them with such actions, even in a dream, made Daeron feel giddy.
Valarr's hands were fumbling with the lace of his shift at the neckline and soon his teats were spilling out of his chemise, perky nipples catching at the edges of the garment. Daeron saw the alpha licking his lips slowly, and then there were hands pulling the bottom of his shift up, up, until his skirts were all but bunched at his hips. He watched Dream-Valarr close his eyes, presented with the sight of Daeron's bare cunny wetting the bed below him with pools and pools of slick.
Rough palms hovered at the omega's knees until they spread. The lips of Daeron's cunt that had been glued by slick parted at the act, flushed like a rose and fluttering at the exposure, clenching at nothing.
"Did you let other alphas see this, omega?" Valarr ground out, eyes so dark they were both almost black. Daeron had no words for him.
"Did you let them defile you with their filthy cocks, dirty you with hands unwashed of sin?"
The omega felt that the truth would be unwelcome. Besides, this is but a dream. Here, there are no other alphas, only Valarr…so he slowly shook his head.
"I have not, Valarr. It is only you. Only you have sullied me," Daeron whispered softly, making a show of folding his arms to his chest and attempting to pull the hem of his shift down. Valarr promptly grabbed hold of his wrists and pinned them at his sides.
"Omega…"
Daeron sharply gasped when the alpha dove in between his thighs. This time, it was not Valarr's tongue but his nose that the omega felt was digging into his flesh. His hands flew to the man's brown and mostly silver hair as he began feeling the itch in his cunt.
"Valarr!" he choked when he felt the alpha inhaling lungfuls of his scent straight from his cunny, then shivered when hot air was blown to his hole. It was torture, it was heaven.
"This dream feels too real!" Daeron cried out as he repeatedly canted his hips when the assault of Valarr's tongue started. Valarr ate his cunt like a man starved, lapping at his slick and driving his tongue in and out of the omega. Daeron's thighs shook when his nub was sucked, tears gathering at the corners of his eyes. It wasn't long before he was slapping the bed, grasping at the alpha's hair and yowling in pleasure and stimulation. He tried to pull Valarr away but the growl the alpha let out with his mouth firmly latched onto Daeron's cunt reverberated straight to his womb.
Daeron screamed when fluids sprayed from him, hips uncontrollably shaking and wetting Valarr's face and his bed. A few tears ran down his temples and he scratched and scratched when even after all this time, the alpha still refused to get off his quim.
"Valarr, please!" he begged, hands finding their way to his own teats and rubbing his nipples in slow circles. He's too hot, too consumed with want for the alpha.
He felt the makings of another peak about to hit him as Valarr fucked him with his tongue. He was slicking like a bitch in heat and the alpha is drinking it all up. He tried to close his thighs to stop the onslaught but Valarr growled once again and dug strong fingers around his thighs to secure them in place. Stretched out and rubbing his cunt against the alpha's face like a whore, Daeron all but shrieked when he squirted his juices at Valarr again.
"Mmhh, very good, omega," the alpha hummed.
His face and neck were wet and his lips glisten like the reddest of rubies. Even now, in his dream, Valarr is just truly handsome. The alpha stuck his knuckle and caressed it against Daeron's quim slowly, up and down through his folds until the omega writhed.
"Your ring, Valarr…it feels-it feels…"
Daeron's eyes were closed, brows furrowed and mouth caught in a silent gasp. He feels the cold metal of the big golden ring rubbing against his heat, smooth and polished. His hand reached to Valarr's, holding it intertwined with his as he rocked and rocked his clit against the flat of the metal band. He knows he is dripping wet now, that he'd have to change his feather bed in the morning if this was real.
Daeron yelped when Valarr slapped his cunt with the back of his fingers, pulled his knees further up.
"So fucking lewd," the alpha rumbled, double-colored eyes piercing his lilac ones.
"Fuck me…Valarr, please," Daeron choked.
"Only if you promise to be good," the alpha taunted.
"I promise…"
"Will you be a good omega?"
He eagerly nodded. "I will. I will, cousin. Please."
Valarr pulled back, making the omega protest. The alpha sat between Daeron's legs, warm palm running up and down his plump thigh leisurely. Then Valarr smirked.
"Will you…be a good wife?"
Daeron's breath caught. What an odd dream. Even then, he could not stop his chest from beating too fast at the question. In his youth, he entertained delusions of being Valarr's mate. He told himself he wasn't waiting for an agreement between their fathers, but he briefly allowed himself to hope.
His voice was weaker when he answered. "I will, Valarr."
For a moment, Daeron thought Valarr's canines grew sharper as his grin widened.
"Turn around."
—
"Gods!…A-ah! Valarr! Ahh!"
Daeron felt his spine getting folded in half with the force of the alpha's rutting.
"Call me husband," he growled at the omega's ear and bit. He caught Daeron's chin and pressed a wet, sloppy kiss against his mouth, more tongue than lips while he pounded the omega's cunt from behind. Daeron moaned louder, drool dripping down his chin, his cheek pressed hard against Valarr's bicep where the alpha was caging him.
"Husband-! Fuck me!" Daeron screamed, delirious in pleasure. He feels the alpha's cock deep inside him, in and out, hot thick flesh dragging through his walls. Valarr spread Daeron's legs out further using his thighs, their hips impossibly closer as the alpha pistoned tirelessly into him. Slick ran down his quivering legs, his chambers concentrated with the scent of aroused alpha and omega copulating like wild dogs. Daeron steadies himself with his elbows planted on the mattress, his fists closed tightly to stop himself from going completely insane. His long cornsilk hair that was brushed to perfection by his maids now stuck in clumps to his sweaty neck.
There was a pause, and then Valarr changed the angle of his thrusts making Daeron howl. A string of broken gasps escaped him when the alpha's cock pummeled into his womb hard and fast and unforgiving.
"M-my womb!" the omega cried out and used his right hand to brace his lower belly, as if the act could protect himself from the intrusion performed by the appendage inside him.
Dream-Valarr covers Daeron's hand with his own rough palm and muscled arm, pressing the omega's belly harder until Daeron felt the cock slipping in and out of his quim. There were teeth puncturing his neck and his eyes are rolling back. His teats hang low, nipples touching and grazing the soft sheets beneath them, bruised and bitten and sucked until they turned red.
"My lovely wife," Valarr rumbled against Daeron's shoulder, pressing open mouthed kisses along the omega's nape.
Daeron's elbow gave in and he crashed to the mattress, face and neck and chest flat against the bed while Valarr remained mounted behind him. His face contorted to one of raw pleasure, so obscene he looked like he was in pain. He felt the alpha smiling against his back, the apples of his cheeks rising at the sight of Daeron.
"Your cock is breaking me in, Valarr," he sobbed. "I-It's battering my cunt!"
"Hmm? Is that right?" the alpha purred in his ear.
Suddenly Daeron was rolled to his side and Valarr with him. Valarr's left arm goes over Daeron's left shoulder and grabs his bouncing teat while the omega's head lie limply on the alpha's upper arm. Valarr's right hand grabbed Daeron's right thigh and hoisted it up as the hard cock pummeled continuously into the poor omega. Daeron could feel it so much deeper laying like this, could feel the cockhead knocking against his womb. He grabs the alpha's arm that's caging him in, slides it back until he reached Valarr's face, then pulled him in for a kiss. He had to strain his neck to the side to be able to reach him, carding his hand through the alpha's hair absentmindedly.
"Your body was made to be mounted, wife," murmured Valarr. "You lay so pliant against me, so soft. So perfect."
Daeron preens at the alpha's words, his inner omega delighted at the praise. It makes him want to please him better.
"Spill inside me," he whispers.
The shift in Valarr's scent almost caught him off guard. Not a moment passed before Daeron was back on his stomach again, hands pinned on the bed.
"Fuck, omega," growled the alpha against his skin.
Valarr grabbed a pillow and placed it underneath Daeron's belly so his arse and cunt were raised in the air, then he went back to destroying the omega's fuck hole with his veiny cock that is now beginning to throb. Daeron was shrilly moaning from the pressure. The alpha's entire weight seemed to be pinning him down, his legs kept open by Valarr's knees and he could not move at all, could not thrash when the cock rammed his walls and forced his womb open. He could feel the alpha making room inside his body, splitting him apart.
"So deep," Daeron sobbed, tears and drool wetting his face, voice hoarse.
"You will take it all," Valarr commanded. Daeron sniffled and nodded frantically.
"Say it," the alpha sharply barked.
"I will take it! Gods, Valarr, I will! I will take it all!" he wailed.
"Tell me it feels good."
"It-It feels so good! Ahh!"
"Are you feeling full?" there was that smirk again. Daeron is too cockdrunk to register that his own hips had started to move and rut against the alpha, greedy for more, wanting to suck his cock in deeper.
"Yes! Yes! My cunny is so full! Please, Valarr!"
"What do you want?"
Daeron could not take it anymore.
"Fucking- knot me! I want your cock lodged in me while you spill your seed! I need it or I will go mad, please…" he begged, words coming in sobs. His body shook with the force of his want.
"How could my sweet wife have such a whorish cunt?" the alpha patronizingly asked. Daeron felt the enlarging base of Valarr's cock, only moments before a full knot. He squirmed, inclined his hips to receive it with the least obstruction, then squeezed as hard as he could. Valarr's groan was instant.
"You fucking minx," he bit out, tortured by the tight cavern even if the omega was already letting out slick and come like his water broke.
"Valarr- Valarr! I am-"
"It' so fucking wet," Valarr ground out when he felt slick and come on his thighs and knees. Daeron had already released for too many times tonight, the squelch of their flesh meeting would make even the whores in Lys blush.
"Inside me, alpha," he pleaded.
The sudden stretch made the omega groan as if in pain, Valarr's knot catching at the rim of the reddened, battered quim. Daeron felt sharp fangs puncture his shoulder just as the searing white seed burst inside his womb. He thrashed again, the base of the cock growing impossibly large inside him, pushing against his bruised hips in thick, heavy ropes.
His hands remained pinned beside his head, back nearly folded in half with the alpha's weight above him, their sexes entwined in a tight, snug knot while Daeron lay limp and breathless. Valarr made a mess of his shoulder and neck, nearly mangled him.
The alpha's cock remained pulsating inside him and Daeron could already feel the seed spilling and overflowing out of him the moment Valarr dismounts. There was a lot, his womb and his walls painted white. Daeron was panting, exhaustion creeping up on his body.
"I hope you don't think we're done, omega," Valarr suddenly speaks.
"What…what do you mean?" he bonelessly asks.
"I spent ten years away. Ten years without your glorious body, your…plump waist and sinful thighs. Your full teats…" the alpha kissed down his neck.
"Ten years without this," Valarr suddenly thrusted his knotted cock even further inside Daeron. It startled him, made him see stars, made his tears fall.
"You've become such a brute," he whimpered.
There it is again, Valarr's smirk. Daeron could not remember his cousin ever making that face before. Was it something he picked up while he was away? Did his victories plant seeds of arrogance in him?
"Do not waste your breath. You will direly need it," the alpha tutted.
"Where have you taken my sweet cousin? You're not him," Daeron sulked.
This time, he felt Valarr smiling as he hid his face in the crook of Daeron's neck. He does not know why his mind conjured this older, bolder version of Valarr for his dream tonight. It was a good dream, something that would make him rub his thighs together once he's awake and he remembers.
At eight and twenty, Daeron ought to be married and mated already, running a keep full of pups. Instead, he remained in Summerhall, shackled by his dreams. After Ashford which scarred their family, nobody bothered to arrange anything for him, everyone too caught up with helping Baelor, pulling their own weight out of guilt. When his dam brought the topic of marriage when he was three and twenty, Daeron just simply did not see the need. He had already been running Summerhall while Maekar stayed sporadically in King's Landing, raising his sisters, corresponding with Aegon and Aerion and Aemon.
His servants treat him good, the guards respect him even with his reputation as a shit knight, and Aemon has been helping him with his dreams. He slept good most nights, except when he yearns for strong arms to hold him through his slumber. He is contented. At least he did not dream of it.
Except now. Daeron hopes this dream would leave his memory in the morning, more than he wished the nightmares away. How cruel it is for his mind to conjure this dream at his age. He could not wish for a prince to sweep him off his feet anymore, he is much too old.
He hopes the real Valarr is well in Tyrosh. They rarely wrote to each other. Any news of his cousin was relayed to him by his dam, all his battles and victories. Gone was the resentment in Maekar's voice when he tells him news of Valarr's glory in foreign lands while Daeron lay forgotten in Summerhall. His dam must have accepted it, made peace with the fact that Daeron would grow old with him in their keep. At least he would not be alone, for he had his firstborn son to care for him and their family. Daeron made his peace with it.
He closes his eyes and hoped he won't remember.