This is a master list with all my fics, including ao3 and tumblr links. My fics are 18+ only. Many of them touch on dark themes, so read at your own risk.
All of my fics are either Daemon Targaryen ships or Resident Evil ships. I write a lot of omegaverse. (If there is not a link is because the fic isn't published yet)
You can send me requests or suggestions here
Please consider supporting me on ko-fi
You can now request a commission
My work
hotd | multichapter:
Mommy | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
Worse Things | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
One For Sorrow | Visaemon/Ottomon ( ao3 / tumblr )
Swimming With Sharks | Visaemon ( ao3 / tumblr )
Family Matter | Daewin ( ao3 / tumblr )
Forbbiden | Gwaymon ( ao3 / tumblr )
Ephemeral | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
hotd | one-shots/short stories:
Meanwhile in Runestone ( ao3 / tumblr )
Meanwhile in Pentos | Laena Velaryon x Daemon Targaryen ( ao3 / tumblr )
Meanwhile in Dragonstone | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
The Interview | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
In Sickness and In Health | Daemyra (ao3)
The Only One | Maenys (ao3)
Make You Scream | Dalcerys (ao3)
Clandestine | Daemyra (ao3)
To Want Is To Give In | Dalcerys (ao3)
I died a lot to live a little with you | Ottomon (ao3)
resident evil | multichapter:
resident evil | one-shots/short stories:
other | one shots:
Apricity | Aethelmond (ao3)
La sua volontà | Mother Leonora x Modesta Spataro (ao3)
• Some stuff are happening irl out of my control, so I need extra income
• dm for any questions
• reposts also help!
• you can go to my ao3 to look at my works here
support me on ko-fi
*important links below 👇*
You can also find me on twitter/x
• you can dm to ask for a commission
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For any questions, suggestions or concerns you can send me an ask or leave them on my strawpage
hi!!! your transparent gifs have made my entire week! if you ever have the time, or if you're taking requests, could you make some of marshal, please? thank you so much for your work!!
Thank you! Marshal is one of my villagers. My goal was to have every personality type on my island and I chose him to represent the SMUG. I love this pompous squirrel.
This is a master list with all my fics, including ao3 and tumblr links. My fics are 18+ only. Many of them touch on dark themes, so read at your own risk.
All of my fics are either Daemon Targaryen ships or Jayvik. I write a lot of omegaverse. (If there is not a link is because the fic isn't published yet)
You can send me requests or suggestions here
Please consider supporting me on ko-fi
My work
hotd | multichapter:
Mommy | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
Worse Things | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
One For Sorrow | Visemon/Ottomon ( ao3 / tumblr )
Swimming With Sharks | Visemon ( ao3 / tumblr )
Family Matter | Daewin ( ao3 / tumblr )
Forbbiden | Gwaymon ( ao3 / tumblr )
Ephemeral | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
hotd | one-shots/short stories:
Meanwhile in Runestone ( ao3 / tumblr )
Meanwhile in Pentos | Laena Velaryon x Daemon Targaryen ( ao3 / tumblr )
Meanwhile in Dragonstone | Daemyra ( ao3 / tumblr )
Daemon let out a shaky breath he had not realized he was holding. His mother stood at his left, his father at his right. Together they stared at the tall wooden doors that led into the throne room, where the guests waited for their entrance.
All the lords and ladies of the great houses of Westeros had gathered to celebrate the king’s youngest grandson’s name day. That morning, his grandmother had arranged a breakfast in the gardens with the ladies and omegas. The space had been beautifully adorned with dark wooden tables, red, black, and gold tablecloths, and fine fabric draped between tall poles to cast shade.
The older ladies had crowded him from the start, gushing over his upcoming marriage and drowning him in unwanted advice. It had been tedious enough until Lady Alerie Tyrell steered the conversation toward children and childbirth. In that moment, Daemon would have given anything to vanish. His only comfort had been his mother’s hand squeezing his beneath the table.
Nevertheless, the young omega endured the flood of unsolicited—at times graphic—counsel from ladies and omegas alike: how to seduce and please his partner, what precautions to take during pregnancies. He had been beet red throughout, silently wishing a dragon would swoop down and set the entire gathering aflame, if only to end his mortification.
When breakfast concluded, he was escorted back to his chambers to freshen up and change before joining his close family for their midday meal. The king was absent, pulled into a small council meeting minutes before.
Now, standing with his parents, Daemon waited to be admitted into the throne room where his name day banquet was being held. The great chamber had been decorated for the occasion and arranged to accommodate the realm’s lords and ladies. Every High House was represented, each eager to gain the king’s favor—and perhaps to secure the last unwed omega of House Targaryen.
As the families arrived, Daemon overheard servants whispering of how many still hoped to bind a Targaryen omega to their bloodline. He might have admired their persistence, had it not been for the certainty that his grandsire would never bend.
Daemon himself wished only to lock himself away and sleep. Though much of the day had been spent sitting, the endless conversations had drained him. As a child, he had once thought the lives of noble ladies and omegas enviably simple. Now he understood how exhausting it was to entertain dull lords with duller words, all while maintaining a flawless image.
Viserys had been distant—not only today but for several days—spending nearly all his hours with Aemma. That was his betrothed, Daemon reminded himself again and again, whenever his brother missed their nightly lessons or when he saw the pair strolling arm-in-arm through the Red Keep, smiling as though they shared some secret joy.
He had chosen to overlook his brother’s strange behavior, consoling himself with the thought that Viserys would return to normal on his name day. He imagined his brother visiting him that morning, escorting him to and from his activities, sitting beside him at the midday meal, showering him with gifts, and walking with him and their parents into the banquet hall. Instead, Viserys had done none of those things. He seemed more distant than ever, seated beside Aemma at the family meal and scarcely glancing Daemon’s way. It infuriated him.
In stark contrast, Otto had done everything Daemon had hoped Viserys would. Though absent from the family meal—occupied with council business—he had still ensured Daemon was returned safely to his chambers.
For an instant, Daemon thought he smelled his brother’s jealous scent when Otto appeared, but he dismissed it as some trick of his omega mind. Viserys was far too enthralled with Aemma to notice his younger brother. Before Otto and Daemon parted ways, the Hand had pressed into his hands a small green velvet box. Inside was a ring: a dark green gem set at its center, framed with delicate carvings shaped like flowers.
The omega had made sure to wear both Viserys’ and Otto’s gifts. The rings complemented one another—similar in style, yet distinct enough not to seem a matched pair. Once, Daemon might have thought it dangerous, given Viserys’ dislike for Otto Hightower. But now he was convinced his brother would not even notice.
He felt his mother squeeze his arm gently, offering him an encouraging smile just as the tall wooden doors before them opened. His stomach dropped as countless faces turned toward him. He might have frozen where he stood had his parents not pulled him forward by the arms.
They walked down the center aisle to the table placed before the Iron Throne, overlooking the entire hall. Daemon felt the weight of every gaze tracing his form until at last he sat beside his grandsire. Yet even seated, the room continued to stare at the young omega.
The lords and ladies, who until then had only heard tales of the boy’s beauty, now saw for themselves that the rumors were true. Daemon wore a maroon velvet gown trimmed with bronze stitching and laces that hugged his figure. Against his pale skin and long silver hair, with his mismatched eyes, he looked almost angelic.
The alphas could not help themselves. As he passed, they drew in deep breaths of the sweet cherry scent that clung to him, filling their lungs and nearly driving them mad. Even Rhea Royce, standing beside the seat reserved for him, could feel the eyes fixed upon her.
She sensed the jealous glares directed her way but ignored them. She knew the weight of the name she was marrying into, and the price it demanded. Ever since his presentation, Daemon had become the most sought-after omega in the realm—not only for his beauty but for his blood. A Targaryen marriage promised not merely power but Valyrian features in one’s descendants.
As Rhea watched the omega approach, her eyes lingered on his hair. The upper locks had been gathered and braided into a half crown. Where the braids met, white and red roses had been woven in, their petals soft against the silver sheen. Below, his hair flowed loose in waves to his waist, catching the light of the hall.
Her gaze drifted lower, noting the maroon gown that swayed with each step. The bronze embroidery and laces, sigils of House Royce, lent a distinguished air to the ensemble.
When Daemon and his parents reached the high table, Rhea remembered her mother’s lessons. She pulled out his chair and eased him forward when he sat. The hall followed the omega’s lead; all sat once he did, and after a few words from the king, the feast began.
To his grandsire’s dismay, Daemon heaped his plate with meats and breads, matching Viserys’ infamous appetite. At the king’s pointed glances, Rhea gently encouraged him to add greens, which he did—though with clenched teeth.
Daemon’s favorite moment came when the cooks brought out platters of desserts. His hand went immediately to the honey cakes, his favorite. His delighted scent spread around the table, drawing Viserys’ attention despite his best efforts to ignore his brother.
The alpha clenched his fists, struggling against the intoxicating pull of that sweet, alluring scent. All evening he had forced himself into conversation with Aemma, if only to distract himself from glaring at Rhea Royce. He had nearly succeeded—until Daemon’s inability to mask his scent unraveled his control.
On another day, Viserys might have held himself better. But his rut was near, and the scent of an unclaimed omega was torment. He was only moments from rising and going to Daemon when the king’s voice cut through his haze.
“Today we are not only celebrating Prince Daemon’s name day, but also his approaching marriage to the heir of Runestone, Rhea Royce.”
Daemon watched as the crowd applauded, though some seemed less than pleased with the king’s statement. He could feel every eye in the room fixed on him, making him squirm in his seat.
“For this, I would like to invite the couple to initiate the week-long celebration with a dance,” Jaehaerys declared, gesturing for them to step into the center of the room.
Daemon did not react at first, unsure what his grandsire meant. Rhea, however, stood at once and extended her hand to the omega. He stared at it for a heartbeat before taking it, allowing her to guide him to the center of the hall.
The band, which had paused while the king spoke, began to play a slow ballad. Rhea turned the omega to face her, drawing him close by the waist. As the familiar song echoed through the throne room, Daemon recalled his countless lessons with Septa Lyna and let his feet carry him across the floor.
The guests watched with delight as the couple moved gracefully around one another—everyone except for two alphas. Viserys clenched his fists as he watched Rhea Royce touching and laughing with his little brother.
And Otto Hightower, seated at the farthest end of the right side of the table, felt the weight of guilt pressing down on him each time his gaze fell upon Daemon. He had Alyrie, his wife. There was no reason he should be pursuing a child. Yet ever since the omega had presented, he had been unable to banish thoughts of him.
It was his scent—sweet cherries and roses—that clung stubbornly inside his nose like a sickness that would not fade. Even when with Alyrie, all he could think of was Daemon, and he despised himself for it. Now, watching the omega with his future wife, he felt jealousy stir, as if he had any right to it. He hated himself all the more. He had already crossed the line once; he could not allow himself to do so again.
Daemon tried to ignore the eyes burning into him, concentrating instead on repeating the steps he had been taught. He focused on Rhea until the song ended, when the other guests finally joined them on the floor.
Only then, when they were no longer the center of attention, did the female alpha step closer. From her pocket she drew a long, slender box.
“My father wished for me to present you with some grand gift,” she said, handing it to him, “but I knew you would appreciate this more.”
Daemon blinked in surprise before taking the box eagerly. He opened it without hesitation, revealing a golden double-chain necklace strung with small red beads spaced evenly along its length. At its center hung a pendant, a circular red stone set in gold.
The omega lifted it carefully, holding it to the light to watch it gleam. With deft hands, Rhea took the necklace from him and motioned for him to turn. Cheeks warming, Daemon obeyed, presenting his back to her. She clasped the necklace gently around his pale throat and released it. As he turned again, Daemon’s eyes dropped to the pendant resting against his chest.
“Thank you,” he said softly, looking up at her through his lashes.
Before Rhea could reply, a sudden noise drew their gaze to the royal table. Viserys was on his feet, hands pressed to the wood, a deep frown carved into his face as he glared toward them. Beside him, Aemma sat frozen, her eyes fixed on him with worry.
The alpha said nothing. He gave the couple one last searing look before shoving his chair back and storming out of the throne room. Only a few took notice—among them their grandsire, whose displeasure was plain. Aemma rose gracefully to follow Viserys.
Daemon watched her go, then turned back to Rhea, confusion clouding his gaze. The alpha only shrugged and took his hand again as another song began to play. But before they could start dancing, someone tapped the alpha’s shoulder. Turning, she found herself face-to-face with the Hand of the King.
“Excuse me, Lady Rhea. May I?” Otto Hightower asked, gesturing toward Daemon, who at once straightened and brushed down his skirts.
“Well, if Daemon wishes to,” she said, glancing once more at the omega. He nodded, and she withdrew to sit back down.
Otto extended his hand to Daemon, who took it and let himself be drawn closer without protest. The alpha acted as though he had not noticed the omega’s scent sweetening at their closeness, nor the bright red of his cheeks. He had fought with himself not to come, but after seeing Rhea Royce gift Daemon that necklace, he could not help himself.
“What a lovely necklace, my prince,” he said, fingers brushing the small pendant at Daemon’s chest to examine it more closely.
“A gift from my betrothed,” the omega replied with a small smile, slipping the pendant free of the alpha’s grasp.
The rings upon Daemon’s hand caught the candlelight, drawing Otto’s eye. “You are wearing the ring I gifted you.”
“Of course. It was a lovely gift.”
They both smiled, falling into silence, letting their feet carry them about the hall as they danced. One of Otto’s hands found its way to the omega’s lower back, his fingers itching to stray lower still.
So they continued for the rest of the night, dancing through the many songs the band had prepared. Daemon forgot all about his elder brother’s strange behavior, enjoying his time with the older man. It was not until his grandsire gave his farewell words that he noticed how swollen and sore his feet had grown.
Rhea had taken it upon herself to escort him, along with Ser Harold Westerling, to his chambers. When the female alpha came to collect Daemon, the omega saw at once that Otto wished to speak—perhaps to protest—but he did not. With a last farewell, Daemon let Rhea lead him toward his rooms.
Once inside, after the alpha had left and Ser Harold had taken his position before the door, Daemon at last allowed himself to remove his uncomfortable shoes and exhale in relief. He was so exhausted and so intent on freeing himself from the tight dress that he scarcely noticed the old satchel resting upon a chair to the side of his chamber.
When his eyes fell upon it, his movements stilled. A familiar scent of burning wood and leather wafted from it. Now it seemed almost obvious—his brother’s strong scent permeated the room, clinging to its walls and refusing to fade.
Daemon approached the old bag slowly, half-minded to glance about the chamber and shield himself with his arms. With the scent so strong, he half expected Viserys himself to appear from the shadows at any moment, though he never did.
The omega took up the satchel, and within found some old garments and a dark cloak. He frowned in confusion, uncertain what purpose they served, until he spied the letter neatly placed upon the table beside the chair. With delicate hands, he unfolded it and instantly recognized his elder brother’s hand.
As he read, a smile crept unbidden to his lips. Viserys was asking to meet him just outside Maegor’s secret passageways, so that he might give him the rest of his name-day gift. He urged him to don the old garments and make his way there with haste.
Daemon could not rid himself of the great smile now plastered on his face. The omega made quick work of dressing in the clothes, finding Viserys’ scent saturating the fabric, almost as though he had deliberately marked them.
Along with the letter, the alpha had included a small map with the route drawn carefully upon it. Though Daemon had wandered the passageways before, he had never ventured to the side where Viserys bid him come. Once dressed, he tied back his long hair and concealed it beneath the grey cap his brother had provided. Fastening the dark cloak about his neck, he cast one last look toward the door—making certain Ser Harold heard nothing amiss—and then slipped into the secret ways.
With Viserys’ map in hand, Daemon navigated the tunnels until he reached an opening that led beyond the Red Keep, down a flight of stairs. There he was met by a hooded figure, who lowered his cowl upon sight of him. His alpha brother’s smirk greeted him, and Daemon leapt into Viserys’ arms at once, having missed him sorely.
“Calm yourself. The night is young, and we have much yet to do,” the alpha said, gently pushing his little brother back.
Daemon’s smile only brightened at his words. Viserys took the smaller hand of his brother in his own as he turned to descend the stairs. He never let go as they made their way through the streets of King’s Landing, weaving past folk who went about their business. The hour was late, yet the city seemed more alive than by day, and the sight filled the omega with delight.
Viserys led them to the town square, where the nightlife was at its height. He wished for his brother to savor what little time he had left in the capital before he was sent to the Vale after his wedding. After storming from the throne room earlier, Viserys had found time to reflect before Aemma discovered him.
The beta girl had, in truth, been most helpful, speaking sense to him and forcing him to reconsider his choice to spurn Daemon these past weeks. He had thought to do his brother a kindness by keeping his distance, that the parting might wound less when it came.
But Aemma had made him see how selfish that truly was. Instead of aiding his brother, he had only deepened his hurt. When he ought to have been at Daemon’s side—comforting him, supporting him, as any good brother should—he had turned away, thinking only of himself.
So here he was now, walking the streets of the capital with his little brother, striving to make the night special. And thus far, it had gone well. He was leading him to where the smallfolk put on plays and jests mocking their family, a pastime he knew Daemon would find amusing. Yet even as he did, Viserys realized he had overlooked a peril most compromising.
His rut was near—far nearer than he had reckoned. He had dressed his brother in garments he himself had scented, meant to mask Daemon’s omega fragrance, or so he thought at first. Now he saw the folly. The omega’s sweet scent was not concealed at all; rather, the cherry-and-rose fragrance mingled with his own burning wood and leather, an intoxicating blend to his rut-driven senses. He still held to his wits, not yet wholly surrendered to instinct, yet the mingled scents threatened to hasten his undoing.
Viserys had unknowingly backed himself into a corner he wasn’t sure he could or wanted to escape. He was on the brink of his rut while being responsible for his little omega brother, but also felt like he owed said brother a good time, after how badly he had been treating him for the past few weeks.
As they pressed onward toward the square, the alpha weighed his options, but ultimately decided that his brother’s happiness would always outweigh everything else. He could only hope he could hold himself back for the night.
He felt Daemon press himself against his side, the smaller arms wrapping around one of Viserys’ own. That was how he realized they now stood amidst a crowd of people gathered to watch a play, with actors dressed in ridiculous costumes meant to imitate their family.
He could recognize their grandsire, their grandmother, their parents, and their uncle. The performers seemed to be jesting about the tangled relationships of their family and the smallfolk’s typical disdain toward the royal household. It was all harmless and, at times, even funny, until a short, petite figure stepped onto the stage.
The actor had long silver hair and wore an inappropriately skimpy gown. Viserys did not at first recognize who the boy was meant to be until he opened his mouth. His voice was high-pitched, and an overly sweet perfume clung to him, making Viserys’ nose itch. He was supposed to be Daemon.
“Oh, I’m just a poor, lonely omega,” the boy exclaimed dramatically. “Oh, who will be the first alpha to cum in my pink, virginal cunt?”
The lewd words made Viserys’ blood boil. He felt Daemon’s grip on his arm tighten, and his scent, even though hidden beneath Viserys’ own, began to sour. More actors then entered the scene, some with silver hair, some with dark, and some with golden, each one clearly meant to represent other nobles.
They circled the young actor, growling and grabbing at him. Their hands roamed everywhere—over his chest, his arms, his exposed legs, and even beneath his skirts. Then a man loudly proclaiming himself to be Viserys Targaryen seized the boy, threw him to the ground, and draped himself on top of him, simulating crude thrusts.
The crowd cheered and laughed, shouting vile names at the character meant to be Daemon. Viserys saw red. He surged forward, his mind consumed with the desire to hurt everyone in that square who dared laugh at his little brother’s humiliation. He would have done so, had Daemon not tugged sharply at his arm.
Viserys looked down into Daemon’s mismatched eyes. The omega shook his head, silently pleading for him not to do something reckless.
“I just want to leave.” The small, trembling voice of his little brother cut through the murderous haze clouding his mind.
Viserys stared into his eyes for a long moment before nodding. He circled his arm around Daemon’s small shoulders and pulled him close, trying to shield him as best as he could. Together they turned and swiftly left the town square, ignoring the joyous noises of the crowd behind them. As they walked, the alpha struggled to calm himself, forcing himself to forget the vile display they had just witnessed, determined instead to make the rest of the night special for his brother.
When they were far enough from the town center, Daemon pulled away from his brother’s protective hold. Refusing to let strangers ruin his night, he walked ahead, his eyes wide as he observed the streets and the busy nightlife around them. He then turned back toward his brother, reaching out his hand for Viserys to take.
The alpha clasped his brother’s hand with a smile and allowed himself to be led. Daemon did not know where he was going; he simply let his feet carry him forward.
Viserys, however, knew the streets well, having sneaked out of the Red Keep more than once before. He recognized that they were only a few streets away from the taverns and brothels of the Street of Silk. The thought made the hand Daemon held burn, as explicit and dangerous images filled his mind. He tried to dismiss them, blaming the thoughts on his nearing rut.
Just as a street vendor approached Daemon, speaking quickly to catch his attention with promises and scams, an idea came to Viserys. Perhaps, had he been in a clearer state of mind, not so close to his rut, he would not have even considered it. But as it was, with his instincts burning hotter than before, the idea seemed more tempting than wrong.
With a smirk spreading across his lips, Viserys slipped behind his brother, his hands resting firmly on Daemon’s waist as he leaned down to press his lips close to the omega’s ear.
“I have something to show you,” he whispered, letting his breath graze the side of his brother’s face.
He felt Daemon unconsciously press closer, and he smelled how the proximity affected him, his scent growing sweeter with want.
“Trust me?”
“I’ll always trust you.” Daemon’s sweet voice almost melted his heart. It made him feel, for a fleeting moment, guilty for what he was about to do.
Without anyone noticing, Viserys snatched one of the strange artifacts from the vendor’s table and slipped it into Daemon’s pocket, only to reach in a moment later and pull it out, showing it to the man.
“He was trying to steal!”
Daemon flinched at the sudden cry, turning to his brother in confusion. At the same time, Viserys pressed his other hand firmly against Daemon’s lower back. The boy seemed to understand instantly and took off running.
“I’ll catch him!” Viserys shouted, stopping the vendor from pursuing before he himself bolted after his brother.
Even though Daemon had a head start, Viserys quickly closed the distance. The omega had turned down a narrow, empty street that sloped upward, where he tripped and stumbled. Luckily, Viserys reached him in time, wrapping his arms tightly around his waist and holding him up.
“I believe I’ll have to take you in, my prince. Robbery is a grave offense,” Viserys said, his grip unrelenting.
“Well, who am I to question the law?” Daemon replied flirtatiously, a half-smile lifting his lips.
“Then follow me,” Viserys smirked down at him, and Daemon smiled back up at him.
Viserys took his brother’s hand once more and led him forward. He navigated the familiar route to the Street of Silk, pulling Daemon along beside him. As they approached one of the brothels, the crowd around them thinned until only a few stragglers wandered nearby.
Certain that no one was watching, Viserys drew Daemon closer and pressed him gently against a wall. Daemon looked up at him through his lashes, curiosity gleaming in his mismatched eyes. The alpha felt himself drown in those pools of violet and green that so strongly resembled their mother’s.
Without looking away, he reached up and carefully removed the hat hiding Daemon’s long, silver hair, which cascaded down in soft waves over his shoulders. He leaned down, bringing his lips dangerously close to his brother’s, their breaths mingling.
“Come,” he whispered at last, before turning and guiding Daemon into the White Worm’s house of pleasure.
The omega looked around the busy establishment. As they ventured deeper, he noticed people in various states of undress. There were alphas, betas, and omegas alike, all naked or wearing little clothing, all ignoring them as they passed by.
Viserys, never letting go of his hand, led him into an open room filled with more bodies in different stages of undress, grinding and rubbing against each other. Alphas, betas, and omegas, men and women alike, were all mixed together, uncaring of what others thought, concerned only with their own pleasure.
Daemon watched everything around them, his curious eyes examining the bodies moving sensually against one another. A strong, yet not entirely unpleasant odor permeated the air, making heat pool low in his stomach and stirring a strange, yet familiar ache in his core.
He jumped in surprise when he felt large hands come up from behind him, rubbing his neck before carefully removing the dark cloak he still wore. His nerves eased only when he caught his brother’s scent.
Viserys tossed the cloak aside, uncaring where it landed. He wasted no time nuzzling the side of his brother’s neck, breathing in his scent—the smell of cherries and roses with a hint of fire—filling his nose and going straight to his cock. Wrapping his arms around Daemon’s waist from behind, he let his palms caress his flat stomach.
He heard Daemon let out a soft sigh. From the corner of his eye, he saw the omega looking around the room until his gaze stopped a few paces away. Curiously, Viserys pulled back from his neck, his eyes following to see what had caught his brother’s attention.
His gaze landed on a naked alpha who had turned toward Daemon, even as an equally naked woman kissed and sucked along his throat. The man’s dark, intense eyes fixed on the omega, a smirk curling his lips as he began stroking his semi-hard member, never breaking eye contact.
Viserys felt his blood boil. With the various aroused scents thick in the air and his rut looming, he was ready to march up to the alpha and rip his head clean from his shoulders. Still, his mind kept circling back to the small omega in his arms. He could not let this moment slip away.
He grabbed Daemon’s neck with one hand, his palm pressing into his throat, fingers hooked beneath his jaw to secure a firm grip as he pressed his lips to the omega’s ear.
“Only look at me.”
As the words left his mouth, Viserys manhandled Daemon until he was pressed against the wall, his larger body shielding him from the view of the others—and, more importantly, from that alpha’s gaze. He pulled his brother’s face closer, their lips hovering just apart, their breaths mingling in harsh pants.
Daemon stared up at his brother, eyes wide in shock at the alpha’s sudden actions. Slowly, he raised a hand to the side of Viserys’ neck, his thumb caressing the skin as the alpha leaned closer and closer. His mismatched eyes darted between Viserys’ eyes and lips, until they hovered—so close, but not yet touching.
He did not know who had given in first, who had leaned forward first, but suddenly their lips met in a hungry, passionate kiss. He felt his brother’s tongue exploring his mouth as strong hands roamed lower, gripping his ass.
Viserys squeezed firmly, pulling him closer still, allowing the omega to wrap his arms around his neck. The alpha tore away from Daemon’s lips only to pepper kisses along his cheek and down his neck. He heard the omega’s sweet moans as delicate fingers tangled in the back of his hair.
“Viserys…” Daemon’s voice trailed off as he nibbled at his collarbone, a quiet moan cutting through his words.
“Tell me what you want, omega,” Viserys growled, his voice deep and rasping, making something inside Daemon clench tight.
The alpha did not relent. His hands roamed freely over the omega’s body while his mouth suckled on pale skin, leaving red marks that would later bloom into blue and purple. Daemon’s mind grew hazy, thoughts breaking apart into nothing coherent. All he could think—over and over—was his brother’s name, like a mantra.
He felt Viserys’ hands slip beneath his loose shirt, caressing the warm skin of his stomach and chest. The alpha groped and squeezed every inch he could reach, trying to sate a hunger that ran so deep it felt as though it might devour him whole.
“Please,” Daemon’s voice came out with a moan, his fuzzy mind struggling to form the words he wanted to say. Viserys didn’t relent, groping and kissing his brother like a starving man, as if savoring his last chance with Daemon—for it might as well be.
It was the omega’s turn to pull away slightly. He looked up, locking eyes with his older brother. His panting made it difficult to speak, but at last, the words came. “I don’t want her to be my first.”
Daemon watched as Viserys’ eyes darkened, his scent grew stronger, and the grip on the back of his neck tightened. He could see the very moment all reason left his brother’s head.
The alpha froze at Daemon’s words. He was giving him permission—begging him, even—to do something he had resisted ever since the omega had presented. For a fleeting second, guilt pierced his rut-filled mind as he thought of Aemma.
Viserys knew the girl had begun to like him—her shy demeanor and blushing cheeks around him spoke clearly enough. At times, he felt guilty, like now, because he knew he could never return those feelings, not in the way she might want.
Even now, when her image passed through his mind, it was gone in a heartbeat, replaced by Daemon. It was always Daemon. It would always be Daemon.
Coming out of his frozen state, Viserys leaned down once more, capturing the omega’s soft lips with his own. One hand rubbed the back of the omega’s neck, where he felt the cold press of the gold necklace Rhea Royce had gifted his brother earlier. A surge of anger flooded through him at the thought of his omega accepting a token from another alpha. Without hesitation, Viserys seized the jewelry and tore it away with brutal force, ripping the necklace clean off.
Daemon gasped as the golden chain tightened against his throat for a brief moment before it was gone, leaving behind a red, throbbing mark that would surely bruise by the morrow. He pulled away, staring at his brother with wide eyes, utterly shocked by the violence of his actions.
Viserys seemed not to care. He grabbed the omega again, dragging him closer and crushing their lips together in another bruising kiss. His hands roamed, groping the other’s body until his fingers found the laces of Daemon’s trousers. With practiced precision, he pulled them loose. Deprived of their ties, the garment slipped easily down, pooling at the omega’s feet.
Viserys never pulled away from Daemon’s lips as he grabbed his narrow hips, shoving his knee between his thighs. Daemon felt delirious; spit dribbled down his chin as their kiss turned sloppy.
He let out a surprised whimper when his brother’s knee brushed against his sensitive core. Instinctively, he began grinding down on his thigh, his undergarments soaking with slick from the stimulation.
The alpha felt the dampness soaking into his pant leg, the intoxicatingly sweet scent of Daemon’s arousal driving him to madness. His cock strained painfully against his trousers, and in his impatience, he pulled his little brother even closer by the waist. His hands roamed beneath Daemon’s loose shirt, pushing it higher as he caressed his torso and back, exposing his flat stomach. He propped him higher on his thigh, grinding his hard cock against the omega’s thigh in return.
At last, Viserys pulled away from Daemon’s mouth, trailing kisses down his neck as his hands slipped lower, sliding beneath his brother’s undergarments. The omega gasped as Viserys’ fingers rubbed against his soaked folds, pressing to breach him.
The overwhelming sensation made him scream with pleasure. This was something Daemon had only known during his heats, and now, with another’s body against his own—another’s fingers touching him—it felt impossibly good.
Viserys felt like he was losing his mind, as if he were falling from the highest tower with no way to stop. He was truly about to take his little brother’s maidenhead in a brothel, surrounded by strangers who might well be waiting their turn, judging by the stares burning into his back.
Small moments of clarity forced their way into his rut-clouded brain, making him pause. But Daemon seemed oblivious—or simply didn’t care—for he only clawed at him more, kissing along his jaw and neck.
Then, suddenly, Viserys snapped out of his lust-drunk haze. Awareness crashed over him, heavy and suffocating. He hadn’t realized he had already pulled back almost entirely, and the distance made Daemon frown in confusion as he reached to wrap his arms around his brother’s neck.
The younger pulled himself up, trying to capture his lips again, but the elder turned his head, dodging him. Daemon unwrapped his arms, resting them on Viserys’ chest as his mismatched eyes looked up in confusion.
“Viserys? What?” Daemon tried again, rising on his tiptoes to press his lips to his, but once more, the alpha evaded him.
“I can’t do this.” The words came out harsh and final. As soon as he spoke them, he tore himself away from Daemon entirely. Without another glance, he turned and strode out of the brothel, ignoring his brother’s desperate calls.
“Viserys?” Daemon called after him, his voice cracking as he watched him disappear.
The omega suddenly felt a great sense of humiliation overwhelm him. He pulled the oversized shirt up to cover his shoulders before crossing his arms over his chest, trying to shield himself fully. He was thankful for the large shirt that hung past his mid-thigh, covering his shame.
Daemon felt tears burning behind his eyes as he watched the naked bodies move around him, unaware of his situation. With tears now falling down his face, the omega pulled the discarded pants back on and secured the laces tightly around his hips. He searched for the dark cloak and hat he had used to conceal his identity, but he could not find them, and he dared not spend another moment in that place.
He swiftly exited the busy brothel, looking around and trying to recall the path he and Viserys had taken to arrive there, hoping to find his way back to the Red Keep on his own. In the end, he managed, though unable to locate the secret passageways, he was forced to enter through the main gates, earning several confused looks from the Kingsguard stationed outside.
No one was more surprised by the omega prince’s entrance than the Hand of the King himself, who at that moment was knocking upon Daemon’s door after having dismissed Ser Westerling.
“My prince?”
The boy completely ignored the alpha as he stormed past him and entered his chambers. Otto stood frozen for a few seconds, staring at the closed door before him. He finally snapped out of it when the mixture of scents clinging to the omega reached him.
A strange sense of betrayal and anger settled in Otto’s stomach as he entered the prince’s chambers. Inside, he found the little omega sitting at the edge of his bed, his head bowed as he rubbed his hands together. From what he could see, Otto knew Daemon had been crying — his eyes were red and puffy, his cheeks tear-streaked.
“My prince, are you alright?” the alpha asked gently, approaching with care so as not to startle him.
Daemon slowly looked up, meeting Otto’s dark eyes. He did not wish to tell the man where he had been or with whom, even if Viserys had abandoned him in a brothel. He did not want his brother to get into trouble. Yet as he stared into the older alpha’s eyes, he could not help but feel something stir inside him.
He did not know if it was because of his time with Viserys or something else entirely, but as he looked at the man before him, a pit began to form in his gut. Neither of them wanted to look away. Daemon grew dizzy from the mingled scents that still clung to him, mixed now with Otto’s own, which seemed to grow stronger with every passing moment.
Otto did not know who had moved first. He had not even realized Daemon had stood and stepped closer, but suddenly the omega’s arms were around his neck, and their lips were pressed together in a sloppy, hungry kiss. Instinctively, Otto’s hands closed around the boy’s narrow waist, pulling him nearer.
Daemon moaned into his mouth, his scent growing stronger and sweeter, wrapping around Otto like a viper, trapping him. Otto’s hands roamed beneath the loose shirt, caressing his body before tugging the garment up and off, leaving him exposed.
The alpha had no chance to linger, for Daemon immediately threw himself forward, crushing their mouths together once more. They stumbled toward the bed, lips never parting. Otto guided him down, hovering over him as they shifted until the omega lay against the pillows.
Otto felt utterly intoxicated. Daemon’s scent held him in thrall; all he could think of was devouring the boy whole. He paused only to admire the younger one properly, licking his lips before bending to scatter kisses along his jaw, down his neck, and across his chest.
On his way lower, he nipped at the omega’s nipples, drawing a loud moan as Daemon clutched desperately at the back of his head. Otto gave a quiet chuckle before trailing further downward until he reached the hem of the boy’s trousers. He glanced up at Daemon’s mismatched eyes, reading the desperation within them. With a smirk, he tugged the laces loose, then pulled the trousers and undergarments away.
Daemon lifted his hips to help, leaving himself bare before the alpha. The older man gazed hungrily at the sight, scarcely believing he was truly going through with this — but the vision before him, paired with the intoxicating scent filling his lungs, banished all reason.
Breaking free of his trance, Otto leaned to kiss the flat plane of Daemon’s stomach, then moved to his hips. He looked up once more at the omega’s darkened eyes, silently begging him to continue. Otto smirked and lowered himself again, this time gently parting Daemon’s soft thighs before diving in without hesitation.
Daemon let out a sharp gasp as he felt Otto’s tongue lick between his folds. He grasped the back of the man’s head, holding him there as the alpha eagerly kissed and licked his cunt. Sweet slick gushed forth, and the omega felt as though he were adrift in the clouds, drowning in pleasure he had never known.
Otto could feel his cock hardening as he devoured the slick his omega gave him. The boy’s sweet moans drove him to madness, and with the powerful scent saturating the air, he feared he might lose his mind entirely. This time, he could not blame Daemon’s heat, but he no longer cared. Not anymore.
Daemon stared into the distance, the conversation around him fading into the background, muffled to his ears. It had been only a few days since his engagement was announced, and his grandsire had called for a small, intimate dinner with the Royces a month before the wedding.
They had decided to wait until the omega turned five-and-ten to officiate the marriage. His name day was less than a month away, and the wedding would be celebrated a week after.
Daemon had spent the last few days feeling numb, almost physically unable to get out of bed without his handmaiden, Ella, dragging him out from under the sheets. He had been examined by Grand Maester Elysar, after his father—the king—became convinced that something was wrong with him. But his mother and grandmother knew better.
The old man had deemed the omega physically healthy, claiming it was perhaps a sickness of the mind. As always, King Jaehaerys had been angry, remonstrating with the boy and demanding he stop acting like a brat. The alpha didn’t understand—he would never understand. But the omegas of the family knew the feeling all too well.
Both Alyssanne and Alyssa had, in their own ways, chosen their spouses. Yet that had not spared them from the fears they were forced to face head-on. Their role in marriage was always the same. Daemon’s would be no different. Alyssa had only hoped she would have more time to prepare her son.
She watched as her baby zoned out, eyes far away as he stared into the distance. Her heart squeezed painfully at the sight of those sad, mismatched eyes that so closely resembled her own. It hurt her to see how quickly he had fallen into such great sorrow.
Alyssa knew of her youngest son’s dreams and ambitions. Daemon had spoken often of wanting to be a knight and claim a dragon, soaring over the Seven Kingdoms and defeating all who threatened his family. He did not want to marry or have children—children were rowdy and hard to care for, or so he always said.
She and Baelon had always encouraged him. They had never imagined Daemon would present as an omega—a failure of foresight on her part. Looking back now, she could not help but notice all the signs she had missed. Daemon had always possessed a strong and, at times, domineering character, but he would always cower at alpha voices—unlike Viserys at his age. And though he was never truly shy, he was always cautious around strangers. The greatest sign should have been the faint sweetness beneath his rich milk scent before he had presented.
It was understandable that Baelon hadn’t noticed. He was an alpha, raised and presented as one. He would not recognize the subtle omega traits—not as she should have. If she had paid more attention, perhaps she could have tempered Daemon’s ambitions before they grew too strong. Perhaps then he wouldn’t be so sad, wouldn’t feel as though his world were crumbling before him.
Alyssa could have prepared him for what was expected of him. Perhaps he might even have been betrothed to Viserys—someone who would care for him and never force him into anything. She wasn’t so sure about Rhea Royce.
Rhea was an honorable alpha of a high house, heir to its great seat—or so she seemed on the surface. Alyssa knew nothing of her true nature. She did not know how the woman behaved behind closed doors, nor how she treated omegas. Rhea was ten years older than Daemon, younger than many of the suitors Jaehaerys had considered, but still far too old for Alyssa’s liking.
Her father, the king, had always been a controlling and proud man. There had been times he could be swayed, but age had made him stubborn and unwilling to listen. So when he summoned her and Baelon into the council room for a private discussion, she should have known it was about her youngest son’s marriage.
They should have resisted more, pushed harder for Jaehaerys to reconsider marrying Daemon off so soon. Even if she had been the same age when she wed Baelon as Daemon would be, she still believed her son was too young. She had known her place from an early age. Being a woman, her subgender had mattered little; children would always be expected of her regardless.
Yet she had still enjoyed her youth, running freely with her siblings—mostly Baelon and Aemon. And she had been lucky. Her husband had never denied her anything. He had allowed her to indulge her reckless, adventurous side without consequence. But she knew such leniency was unusual in an alpha, especially toward their omega.
Alyssa could only hope Daemon’s future wife would grant him the same grace. Because she knew so little of Rhea Royce, she made it her mission to learn more of the woman. She even tasked her father’s master of whisperers to gather every scrap of information he could. She needed to ensure she was not handing her youngest son to a dangerous alpha who might mistreat or harm him.
The king had been adamant that Daemon and Rhea spend time together in the Red Keep before the wedding. Alyssa ensured her son’s personal guard was changed to Ser Harrold Westerling, an honorable knight of proven loyalty.
She also spoke with Aemon, knowing how close Daemon had grown to him after meeting Caraxes. The boy had been utterly enamored by the dragon, constantly begging to ride with his uncle. Since they had been spending so much time together, Alyssa hoped her son might feel more comfortable confiding in Aemon than in his parents. If she could not change her father’s mind, she would at least make certain her son was protected.
“I think it would be a great opportunity for Rhea and Prince Daemon to take a walk in the Red Keep gardens. I hear they are especially beautiful this time of year,” Lord Yobert Royce’s voice broke through her thoughts.
Just her husband’s luck to be drinking at that moment. Baelon spat out his wine, nearly choking on the lord’s words. He coughed, and Alyssa softly patted his back to help him recover.
“I–em—” the alpha tried to respond, but his coughing interrupted him.
“I–” Viserys began, but Aemon raised a hand to silence him.
“That sounds like a wonderful idea, Lord Yobert,” Aemon stepped in, frowning slightly at his younger brother.
“Yes, of course—a wonderful idea,” Baelon finally managed after clearing his throat.
Without a word, Rhea rose from the table. She turned to the omega beside her and extended her hand, expectant. But Daemon did not take it. He didn’t even look at her. Alyssa’s gaze flicked to her son, who was still staring off, lost in thought.
“Daemon. Daemon!” Her father’s voice rang through the hall, startling everyone.
“What?” Daemon jerked upright, lifting his head from his hand.
“That is no way to address your king!”
“I’m sorry, Your Grace,” the omega sat up straight, eyes wide as saucers.
“Your future alpha is waiting. Go and show her the gardens.” Jaehaerys’ stern tone left no room for argument.
Daemon looked up at Rhea, who once again extended her hand. Slowly, he placed his own atop hers, letting the alpha help him rise. Once he stood, she released his hand and offered her arm for him to take. As the pair departed, Alyssa’s eyes met Ser Westerling’s. The knight gave her a slight nod before following.
Viserys watched them leave, gripping his silverware tightly as anger clawed up his spine. His father’s heavy hand landed on his shoulder, holding him back. He could feel his mother’s fiery gaze burning into the side of his head, but he ignored it, still glaring at the door where his little brother had just walked out with another alpha.
They took their time reaching the Red Keep’s gardens. Daemon didn’t speak, not a single word, but Rhea did not mind. She had expected this—after all, he was an omega, and many omegas tended to be shy or quiet when with an alpha.
She had spent only a few days in King’s Landing, yet she had already noticed how this particular omega had caught the attention of nearly everyone in the Red Keep.
Daemon was beautiful, she had to admit. His soft, silky silver hair framed his pale face perfectly, and his mismatched eyes shone brightly even when dulled by sadness. His small frame only emphasized his beauty, making him delicate and ethereal.
Rhea was not blind. She had noticed the way the servants and even guards had turned to look at him, whether out of admiration, respect, or desire. She didn’t blame them. Daemon was unlike anyone she had ever met—though he carried himself with grace, there was a fire in him, even if it had dimmed.
At first, she hadn’t known how to feel about this arrangement. She hadn’t asked to be betrothed to someone younger than her, a mere boy. But she could not deny that being tied to House Targaryen brought power and security.
Still, as she glanced at Daemon from the corner of her eye, she felt a small pang of something she didn’t expect—sympathy. He had not chosen this either. She could see it in the way his lips pressed into a thin line, in how his hand trembled faintly when it rested against her arm.
They reached the royal gardens, which opened into a courtyard filled with blooming roses, their fragrance heavy in the warm air. She stopped, turning slightly toward him.
“You don’t have to be afraid of me,” Rhea said softly, almost surprising herself with the gentleness in her tone.
Daemon finally looked at her then, really looked. His eyes, wide and conflicted, searched hers as though trying to find the truth in her words. For a moment, silence hung between them, filled only by the distant chirping of birds.
“I’m not afraid,” Daemon muttered, though his voice was small, betraying the lie.
Rhea’s lips quirked, not in mockery, but in understanding. “Good. Then we can start there.”
She extended her hand again—not demanding this time, but offering. After a long pause, Daemon placed his hand in hers. His touch was tentative, uncertain—but it was a beginning.
Behind them, Ser Harrold Westerling stood at a respectful distance, his watchful eyes never leaving the young prince.
Together they made their way through the gardens, Daemon pointing out the flowers and weeds that adorned the paths, just as his septa had taught him. He spoke of the multicolored hydrangeas, the pure white daisies, the bright yellow marigolds, and the pink dahlias—his favorite. She nodded along to his words, though he could tell she wasn’t truly paying attention.
“I don’t want to marry you.” That was the thing that caught her attention. Rhea finally turned to look at him, stopping in her tracks.
Daemon let go of her arm, staring up at her as she looked down at him. Rhea didn’t speak at once, perhaps waiting for him to continue, or to laugh as if he were jesting—but he didn’t.
The alpha sighed, sounding exhausted, though her eyes never left his. “I suspected as much,” she said, crossing her arms over her chest. “Marrying you isn’t exactly my life’s goal. But my father insisted.”
Daemon clasped his hands behind his back, turning and walking once more, hearing the alpha follow close behind. “My grandsire believes it is important for me to be married and have children soon. He says I should do it while I am still at a ripe age, while I still have my beauty and youth, while I am still desirable.” His voice trailed off. He didn’t know why, having just met her that day, but he felt safe sharing his thoughts with her.
“They probably expect us to conceive on our wedding night,” she said, stealing a glance at him, trying to gauge his reaction.
“I know.” Daemon looked down at his feet. “Does it hurt? Childbirth, I mean. I’ve heard omegas often die from it.”
Rhea stopped abruptly, forcing the omega to halt and look at her again. He noted the deep frown carved into her face, and her scent grew stronger, making him cower slightly.
“You are not going to die during childbirth.” Rhea’s stern voice was quiet enough for only Daemon to hear. “One child, one heir—that’s all I need. That is where your duty ends. I won’t force you to have more, Daemon.”
The omega felt his heart squeeze at the alpha’s words. It was the first time someone outside his family had referred to him by name rather than title. It was inappropriate, perhaps, but he could not bring himself to care when the woman’s words truly dawned on him.
“Would you like to accompany me to the Dragonpit?” Daemon asked, pitching his voice higher and letting a small pout tug at his lips—a tactic he knew worked on most alphas. “There’s a way to get there from here, so the other guards won’t notice.” The omega turned toward Ser Westerling behind them, smiling innocently at him.
“Would that be wise, my prince?” Rhea followed his gaze, glancing at the other alpha nervously.
“It’s not prohibited. I go all the time.” The younger one approached her, wrapping his short arms around one of her larger ones. “Don’t worry, I won’t let anything happen to you. I just want to see my uncle’s dragon, Caraxes. And as my future wife, you should meet him.”
The omega nudged the alpha forward, guiding her through the overgrown parts of the gardens, quickening their pace so Ser Westerling could not keep up in his heavy armor. They reached a partially hidden door that led into Maegor’s secret passageways within the Red Keep.
After Viserys had shown him the access from his chambers, Daemon had taken the time to explore the castle through the passageways. He had found ways to exit the Red Keep and reach the Dragonpit completely undetected. He usually did so at night, when it was harder for him to be spotted in the busy streets of King’s Landing. He enjoyed sitting with Caraxes, Meleys, or Vhagar, singing to them or reading Valyrian tales aloud.
Daemon guided Rhea all the way to the Dragonpit, using the black cloaks he and Viserys had hidden to shield themselves from prying eyes. The alpha didn’t speak the entire way, though her arm stayed protectively around him. The clear show of dominance irritated him, but he held his tongue, letting her do as she pleased—for that was what awaited him for the rest of his life.
When they reached the Dragonpit, Daemon signaled for Rhea to stay behind him. The dragons were used to his scent and presence, but not hers. Despite his initial dislike of the woman, he did not wish to see his future wife burned alive; she was the only one of his suitors who had not treated him like an object or a piece of meat.
As they ventured inside, the omega made sure the Dragonkeepers were not present to send them back to the Red Keep. They walked deeper into the great structure, the sounds of low growls and shifting weight echoing around them—signs of the great beasts responding to the unfamiliar scent.
The first dragon to appear was Caraxes, his long, sinewy neck extending to its full length as he loomed over them. Daemon giggled softly at the clear warning from the magnificent creature he had come to know and love. If the Blood Wyrm hadn’t been his uncle’s mount, he was sure he would have claimed him by now.
“Relax, Caraxes,” the omega said in High Valyrian, lifting his hand to show his palm. “She’s a friend.”
The great beast sighed heavily, a small stream of smoke leaving his nostrils. He begrudgingly relented, lowering his head to get closer to the omega. Daemon reached up, running his hand over the dragon’s rough scales, and soft purring rumbled deep within the creature’s throat.
The dragon’s childish attitude made the omega giggle. “This is my uncle Aemon’s mount, Caraxes,” he said, finally addressing Rhea, who had stayed a few steps behind. “My uncle takes me flying on him at times. I—”
“Daemon.” Before the omega could continue, the said alpha’s voice sounded behind them.
“Uncle Aemon! We were—”
“I don’t want to hear excuses, nephew.” His voice was stern, but not angry. “After Ser Westerling came back in a hurry and told us you had disappeared, I knew instantly you’d be here,” he said as he approached, smirking.
As he drew closer, Caraxes nudged him softly, asking to be petted. Aemon obliged, his eyes traveling to the female alpha, who bowed slightly.
“My prince, I want to apologize. I—” the woman began, but Aemon stopped her with a raised hand.
“It’s quite alright, Lady Rhea. I know firsthand how persuasive my nephew can be.” His gaze shifted to the small omega, now frowning with arms crossed over his chest. “You know you’re not supposed to be here without supervision, Daemon.”
“I know! I just wanted to—”
“It’s alright. You’re not in trouble. I won’t tell your parents.” The alpha smiled softly at the omega, extending one arm to beckon him closer. “We should go.”
Daemon reluctantly followed his uncle, Rhea trailing close behind. On the carriage ride back to the Red Keep, they concocted a somewhat believable story to keep the King from becoming too angry over the omega’s brief disappearance.
When they arrived before his grandsire, they relayed their tale, which the King seemed to believe, and were dismissed. At least, that was what Daemon had thought—until Grand Maester Elyser visited his chambers late at night, claiming King Jaehaerys had sent him for a full check-up.
The examination was invasive, even more so than the one after his presentation. Afterwards, Daemon realized the maester had been checking to see if his maidenhead remained intact. That fact slipped clumsily from his lips the next day when speaking with his father.
Baelon had been livid upon hearing that the Grand Maester had visited his youngest son to ensure his maidenhead was untouched—clearly acting on the King’s orders. He would be lying if he claimed it hadn’t briefly crossed his mind that an alpha might have lured the boy into something dishonorable. But Baelon knew Daemon would not allow that to happen, not without a fight. And given how against marrying Rhea he had been, Baelon doubted his son would do anything willingly.
Still, the moment he saw Aemon arrive with Daemon and Rhea in tow, the suspicion left his mind. Daemon was neither disheveled nor carrying strange scents, and Rhea was alive and walking. If his older brother had caught them in a compromising position, she would not be.
Now Baelon marched angrily to his father’s chambers, bursting inside and ignoring the guards’ protests. “How dare you even entertain the idea that my son—”
He stopped in his tracks at the sight before him. King Jaehaerys sat before the lit fireplace, with none other than his Hand, Otto Hightower, who had clearly been speaking just moments before.
“How dare you not entertain the idea that an omega who disappeared for an hour with his betrothed alpha might have lost his maidenhead, Baelon?” The older alpha’s booming voice snapped him out of his daze.
“There were no indications anything had happened,” he argued, striding toward the sitting area and taking a seat across from his father. “Besides, you should consult Alyssa and me before making such harsh decisions. He is our son.”
“I am well aware he is your son, Baelon! But these matters also concern me—the crown.” The king rose and turned his back as he continued. “What do you think people would say if Daemon did not arrive pure to his bedding ceremony? What would the court whisper?” Jaehaerys turned sharply to face him again. “That the King allowed one of his omegas to be dirtied?”
“One of your omegas?” Baelon stood, a deep frown etched into his face as he followed his father’s pacing with his eyes.
“My prince, perhaps it’s wise if—”
“I’m not speaking with you, Otto.” Baelon cut him off harshly, lifting a hand to silence the third alpha as he strode past him toward his father. “And if he had lost it? What then? What would you have done?” His voice was dangerously low, anger simmering beneath the surface.
“What any competent king would do.” Jaehaerys halted and turned to him. “Disown him, and send him to Baelor’s Sept to serve the gods. Only a lifetime of service would persuade them to forgive his sins.”
Baelon was struck speechless, staring in disbelief. “His sins?” he finally demanded, his voice low and seething.
“Yes, Baelon—his sins,” the king repeated coldly. “For seducing an alpha, for making her take him before their wedding.”
“He’s a child!” Baelon shouted, stepping closer.
“He’s an omega. An omega raised as an alpha, no less,” Jaehaerys spat. “He still acts as though he can do anything without consequence.”
“Daemon’s been trying his best to adapt. He was nearly bedridden after—”
“He needs a strong alpha to tame him, to teach him how to be an omega, and to make him one if he refuses. A Royce will do that,” the king declared, as though it were an undeniable truth.
“Father!”
“Enough! I will hear no more of your empty words, Baelon.” Jaehaerys sighed, sounding weary.
Turning his back, the king dismissed his son with a flick of his hand. Baelon remained frozen, a thousand words stuck in his throat, yet none came out. He finally turned to glare at the Hand, gritted his teeth in frustration, and stormed from the chamber in the direction of his and Alyssa’s own.
Daemon closed his tired eyes, feeling his muscles relax as he submerged himself in the hot bathwater. He had been yearning for a bath all day, his body stiff and sluggish—a clear sign that his next heat was fast approaching. He did not know how to feel about it, unsure if now that he was engaged, he was required to spend it with his future alpha.
He was tempted to ask Grand Maester Elysar for moon tea to suppress his heat, but the man would surely tell his grandsire, and the king would be furious. He did not wish to start any trouble; his upcoming marriage was dreadful enough already, and he did not want to give his grandsire an excuse to ruin his life further.
The omega was so deep in his thoughts that he neither heard nor smelled the alpha entering his chambers through the secret passageways. Not until he heard a quiet curse behind him.
Daemon jumped, swiftly opening his eyes and turning to look over his shoulder, doing his best to cover himself with his arms. He was met with the sight of his older brother, who was covering his own eyes and had his body half-turned away.
“I apologize, Daemon. I did not realize—I didn’t know you—” the alpha stuttered, unable to finish his sentence. “I did not mean to…” He let out a frustrated huff before turning his back fully on him. “I should come back later.”
“Wait!” Daemon exclaimed as his brother started walking toward the passageway door. “It’s alright. You can wait here. I want you—I want to train today. It’s easier if you just stay.”
Viserys stopped in his tracks, never turning to face him but clearly listening. He seemed to think for a second before turning slightly, though keeping his gaze fixed on the ceiling. “I mean… if you’re sure.”
The omega hummed, lying back down and grabbing the cloth resting off to the side of the bathtub. “I’ll um… go sit down then,” his brother’s voice came from behind him as the alpha walked toward the couches near the lit fireplace.
Daemon washed himself thoroughly in silence. He could feel Viserys’ eyes burning into his back from time to time, but he did not acknowledge it, already accustomed to being stared at. He washed his face and then stood from the porcelain tub, water dripping down his body and into the now lukewarm bathwater.
Viserys instinctively turned at the sound of dripping water—just in time to catch a full frontal view of the little omega’s naked body. It took him several seconds to react, tearing his eyes away from Daemon’s flushed skin and up to his wide, mismatched eyes. The omega swiftly grabbed his towel, covering himself as best he could.
The alpha gasped loudly and turned his head away. “I’m so sorry, Daemon! I didn’t mean—”
“It’s alright, brother. I’ll just… um, dress, and then we can go.” The younger one’s voice came out soft and timid—an uncharacteristically meek tone for Daemon.
Viserys could only nod as he sat back down, fighting his inner alpha’s urges not to look at his omega brother while he dressed. He did not want Daemon to think of him as a pervert. He could hear the rustling of clothes and the clicking of buckles behind him, yet he never looked back once, which he counted as a small victory.
Daemon finally informed the alpha that he could look, and without another word, they both slipped through Maegor’s passageways and out to the throne room. As they exited the Red Keep and reached the training grounds, they realized someone was already there. Viserys signaled for Daemon to wait before emerging from the shadows and letting himself be seen.
“Oh, it’s you,” Daemon heard his brother say. Though unable to see who he was speaking with, curiosity surged through him.
“My prince! I did not expect to see you here so late,” a familiar voice responded, prompting Daemon to step out from his hiding spot.
“Rhea!” The omega approached the two alphas excitedly, his gaze fixed on his future wife.
He had truly come to like the female alpha. He was not in love with her, and their wedding was still not something he looked forward to, but he felt as though he could confide in her. The Royces were set to remain in King’s Landing until the wedding, and his grandsire had been adamant about them spending time together.
During the many afternoons they had shared over the past two weeks, they had gotten to know each other quite well. For some reason, his inner omega felt at ease with her, which prompted him to open up—and in turn, she had opened up to him.
They both agreed that their marriage was not something either of them wanted. Both were being forced into the arrangement by someone who cared nothing for their happiness or comfort, only their own ambitions. They had more in common than one might assume, and they bonded over that.
Now, Daemon still did not relish the idea of marriage, but at least his future wife was not as bad as he had initially believed. Perhaps his married life would not be as terrible as he had imagined, and that small comfort soothed him.
“Daemon! What are you doing here?” Rhea asked, her wide eyes falling on the small omega.
“I could ask you the same question,” Viserys interjected defensively.
“The king assured me I could make use of the training grounds during our stay here. I thought it wiser to use them at night, so I wouldn’t interfere with the Kingsguard,” she explained patiently, ignoring the sharpness in the other alpha’s tone. “I didn’t know you wanted them tonight. I can go, if you wish.”
“Actually, that would be grea—”
“Don’t! You can stay with us,” Daemon interrupted his brother before he could send Rhea away. “Viserys is helping me learn to swordfight.”
Viserys glared at his younger brother, holding his tongue so as not to snap at the other alpha to just leave them alone. If Daemon wanted her to stay, then he would tolerate her for tonight.
“I’ve heard you’re really good with a bow and arrow,” his baby brother continued eagerly. “Maybe you can teach me?” he added, fluttering his eyelashes and wrapping his short arms around one of the female alpha’s arms.
Viserys suppressed the urge to groan aloud, an ugly feeling creeping up his spine. His brother knew how to get what he wanted, and, as strange as it sounded, Viserys hated not being the one on the receiving end of his manipulation tactics.
“Sure, my prince. I’d be glad to do so,” Rhea answered with a smile down at him. The ugly feeling now clawed at Viserys’ throat.
True to her word, the female alpha taught Daemon how to properly hold and aim a bow. The omega had been so excited that he had ignored Viserys almost the entire night. He only addressed him when boasting about hitting a bullseye, while Rhea Royce “helped” him by unnecessarily holding his arms from behind.
Viserys had to fight silently against his inner alpha’s urge to kill the woman. He tried to convince himself he was merely being protective of his brother, but the reality was far more dangerous: he was jealous. Jealous of another alpha receiving so much attention from his omega brother—attention that should have belonged only to him.
Their small session eventually came to an end. Daemon had wanted to continue, but his constant yawning prompted the two alphas to call it a night. He pouted and begged them to go on, but ultimately relented. Rhea offered to accompany the omega back to his chambers, yet Viserys refused at once, deeming it inappropriate.
They parted ways soon after—Viserys escorting Daemon to his room before returning to his own. As he lay upon his bed that night, he could not rid himself of the images of his brother and Rhea together, that same ugly feeling gnawing its way back into his chest. The mingled trace of both their scents still clung to his senses, lodged in his nose, threatening to drive him mad.
After what felt like hours, Viserys finally drifted into sleep, yet the loneliness and jealousy remained, clouding his dreams and unsettling his rest.
The next day, Daemon was woken by Ella, who, along with his other handmaidens, helped him bathe and dress in a beautiful, delicate pastel-pink silk gown that flowed gracefully. He found it strange how the women put more effort into his appearance than usual. The dress was actually a new gift from his grandmother, delivered just that morning, and they paired it with delicate gold jewelry to match.
Just as Ella finished styling his silver hair, a knock sounded on his chamber’s wooden door. He called for the person to enter, and the door opened to reveal Viserys, who was suspiciously hiding something behind his back.
“Daemon, I wanted to give you something.” The alpha revealed a small velvet-red box he had been holding and placed it on top of the vanity. “A small birthday gift in advance.”
The omega looked up at his brother with a bright smile, his mismatched eyes sparkling. His cheeks flushed as he grabbed the small box and opened it. Inside lay a beautiful golden ring, adorned with a large red square jewel framed by petal-like gold and black detailing.
He gasped, eagerly taking the ring from its velvet bed and holding it up to admire it further. “It’s beautiful, Viserys! Thank you!”
He wasted no time slipping it onto his finger, arranging it among his other rings. Excitedly, he held his hand up for both Ella and Viserys to see.
“It looks great, my prince.”
“It does,” Viserys agreed, extending his arm toward the omega. “Daemon, let me accompany you to the throne room. The king has summoned us this morning.”
Daemon’s smile faltered, a pit forming in his stomach at his brother’s words. He had a bad feeling about the sudden summons from the king. Still, he accepted the alpha’s outstretched arm, using it to rise from his vanity. He allowed himself to be led from his chambers toward the throne room.
Upon arrival, they found the rest of their family already gathered beside the Iron Throne, while Jaehaerys sat upon it, his looming figure commanding respect. Without a word, Viserys and Daemon walked forward to stand beside their parents. The omega purposely drew close to Gael, who greeted him with a soft smile.
They remained in place for several minutes as the Kingsguard flooded into the throne room, taking positions along the tall walls and in between pillars. Daemon felt his anxiety rise; the last time he had stood in such a gathering, his grandsire had announced his engagement to Rhea Royce.
Speaking of which, both Rhea and her father, Lord Yobert, stood on the opposite side of the throne, alongside the Hand. The female alpha, almost as if sensing his growing unease, offered him a reassuring smile. Daemon smiled back before his gaze shifted to Otto Hightower, who was staring intently at him. The omega’s cheeks grew warm under the man’s attention, and he smiled at him, but instead of returning the gesture, the old alpha averted his gaze.
Daemon frowned at the man’s strange behavior, but he had little time to dwell on it, for the huge wooden doors of the throne room opened, capturing everyone’s attention. An extravagant procession entered, led by Lord Rodrik Arryn. At his side walked a young girl, dressed in Arryn blue silk of the same material and similar cut as Daemon’s own gown.
From the corner of his eye, he noticed Viserys straighten, his hands clasping behind his back. With that subtle gesture, Daemon realized the young girl was Aemma Arryn—his brother’s betrothed.
He did not know what to think, nor how to feel at this revelation. The girl was indeed pretty, her wavy silver hair catching the shafts of sunlight that spilled into the throne room. Her dress fit her form perfectly, unlike his own, which sagged and tightened in all the wrong places. A sudden wave of self-consciousness overtook him. He tugged at the fabric of his gown in an attempt to adjust it, then folded his arms across his flat chest.
He heard his grandsire greet them and Lord Rodrik respond, but their words blurred past him, unregistered. His attention remained fixed on Aemma, who kept her head lowered, never once glancing up or addressing them. It irritated him; it felt as though she thought herself above them—even if, deep down, he knew it was more likely shyness. Still, he wanted a reason to dislike the beta girl.
As a gesture of welcome, the king invited the Royces and Arryns to join them for supper in the Red Keep’s dining hall. Viserys was seated beside Aemma, directly across from Daemon, who sat next to Rhea. The omega’s eyes never left them, the pit in his stomach growing heavier.
The female alpha at his side seemed to sense his unease—or perhaps she could simply smell it—for she reached beneath the table and took his smaller hand in hers. She rubbed the back of his hand gently, offering comfort. Daemon turned to her with a small, grateful smile.
Across the table, Viserys watched as Rhea Royce clasped his younger brother’s hand. His fists tightened, nails biting into his palms as he fought to restrain his anger at her boldness. He tried to shift his attention to Aemma, seated quietly at his side, but found himself at a loss for words.
Unlike Daemon and Rhea, Viserys and Aemma had not taken the time to truly know one another. They had only met once before, on the day of their betrothal. At that time, the girl had still been very young, not yet bled. His grandsire and Lord Rodrik had agreed to postpone the marriage until then. To this day, the beta girl had not yet bled, and Viserys was not sure if he wanted her to.
The rest of the evening went on without incident. Viserys nearly reached his limit when Otto Hightower, arriving late, sat in the empty seat beside his brother. Daemon instantly perked up, shifting his attention entirely to the older alpha and forgetting everyone else.
Daemon was surprised when Otto—so unlike his previous behavior—greeted him with a smile and almost immediately fell into conversation. Viserys could not fathom what a man of thirty could possibly have to discuss with a boy of four-and-ten. It frustrated him to see the older alpha grow so close to his baby brother.
He turned to look at Rhea, who sat eating calmly, as if her future omega were not speaking with and drawing close to another alpha. It did not matter that she was not in love with Daemon; any alpha would feel some measure of jealousy at the sight of their omega growing so familiar with another. It was instinct.
Regardless of his anger at both the Hand’s and his brother’s conduct, he caused no scene and said nothing. Instead, he forced himself into conversation with Aemma, trying to take his mind from the matter. For the most part, he succeeded.
When the meal ended, Otto offered to accompany Daemon back to his chambers, as it was on the way to the Tower of the Hand. The omega had eagerly accepted, and with the king’s dismissal, the pair left the dining hall together. Jaehaerys stopped them briefly to inform Daemon that his personal guard would be changed to a beta for the duration of his approaching heat. Viserys held his tongue, his mother’s glare fixing him in place and leaving him to deflate in his seat.
Daemon said nothing on the walk to his chambers, only clutching Otto’s arm as he was led along. By the end of the meal, cramps had begun to gnaw at his gut, his skin growing hotter with every passing second. He could feel his scent sweetening, a sure sign that his heat was drawing near. He only prayed that the alpha beside him could not yet smell it.
But Otto could tell. He had smelled it the moment he entered the dining hall: that sweet, ripe cherry scent clinging to the omega. It was the very reason he had offered to escort him personally. It was only to protect the boy from the dangerous alphas that might be roaming the castle halls at such an hour—or at least that was what he told himself.
As they arrived at the omega’s chambers, the scent intensified. Otto froze as he opened the door, slowly turning to look at Daemon. He swallowed hard, holding his breath, desperate not to do something he would regret.
Daemon doubled over, a sharp cramp seizing him. The alpha moved closer, steadying him, guiding him toward the bed so he could leave quickly. They reached the bed, but before Otto could withdraw, Daemon clutched his coat with surprising strength.
“Alpha… don’t leave.” The omega’s mismatched eyes were glazed, his heat clearly overtaking him.
Otto held his breath, praying his hands would remain at his sides, but Daemon only used the chance to draw closer. The alpha threw his head back, yet Daemon’s hand gripped his neck, pulling him forward. Otto tried to resist, but the sweet cherry scent coiled around him like a viper.
“I need you. Please,” Daemon moaned. The words, the voice—arousal surged through Otto, straight into his loins.
His rational side screamed at him to push the boy away, to leave the room and fetch the maester. His alpha side screamed just as loudly that he should claim the omega, fill him with his seed. The warring urges left him paralyzed, and in that hesitation, Daemon’s hand slid down to grasp at his crotch.
“Daemon…” Otto groaned, reaching to pull the omega’s hand away.
“Please…”
The alpha looked down at him. Daemon’s violet and green eyes were nearly consumed by black. His scent was intoxicating, sweeter than anything Otto had ever known. Then he felt it—the wet slick clinging to his pant leg. Only then did he realize he had shifted one leg between Daemon’s, allowing the boy to rut against his thigh.
He was so close, so beautiful and willing—it was impossible to resist. Caution shattered, and Otto leaned in. His lips hovered over Daemon’s, breath mingling, almost touching. The faint brush of Daemon’s lips met his—when a voice thundered through the chamber.
“Prince Daemon! My prince!”
Otto barely had time to pull away and rise before the door burst open. A man stood frozen in the doorway, clad in heavy armor and the white cloak of the Kingsguard. He was a beta—clearly the new guard appointed to watch over Daemon during his heat.
“Lord Hand,” the man said, surprise evident. “I did not know you were here.”
“I was merely ensuring Prince Daemon returned safely. His heat has begun,” Otto replied evenly. “I will inform Grand Maester Elysar on my way back to my chambers.”
The Kingsguard only nodded, stepping aside to let him pass. Otto strode swiftly down the hall, rounding a corner before leaning heavily against the wall, adjusting his clothes with trembling hands. The sweet cherry scent still clung to him.
Reluctantly, he made his way to the Grand Maester’s chamber, informing him of the omega’s condition. Elysar gave him a strange look but only nodded, promising to attend to Daemon at once. Otto departed as swiftly as he could, heading for his own chambers, desperate to bathe and scrub his skin raw until every trace of that cherry scent was gone.
A week went by, with Daemon suffering through his heat alone. On one hand, he was thankful that his grandsire had not made him spend it with Rhea, but on the other hand, going through a heat alone was extremely painful. That was why he was glad when it finally broke and he was himself once again.
The morning his heat ended, his handmaiden, Ella, came into his room with a huge smile. Other servants walked in behind her, and two Kingsguard carried a white porcelain bathtub inside. Once everything was placed, they all left, except for Ella.
The beta woman happily chatted with him, informing him of everything that had happened at court during the past week as she thoroughly washed his tired body and dirty hair. He listened to her, only responding when necessary, keeping his eyes closed and relaxing under the beta’s soothing massage.
She eventually coaxed him into talking about his excitement for his name day celebration in two days. Daemon told her about what he and his mother had planned for the evening and how he had especially requested that the cooks make many grape cakes for the banquet.
She then dressed him in a simple yet elegant light purple silk gown that was cinched at the waist but fell loosely over his body. For his hair, they chose a simple updo that left his collarbones exposed.
Ella then informed him that his grandmother had arranged a small meal with Gael and Aemma in the gardens. Daemon was excited to see his aunt; he was not so sure about the beta girl, but he resolved to behave.
When he was ready, Ser Westerling came to collect him and escort him to the gardens. Learning from his past mistakes, the alpha walked close to the omega, never letting him out of his sight. When they arrived at the gardens, Daemon was greeted by Gael and Aemma. He returned their greeting politely, and then they sat together at a table located under a beautiful structure filled with flowers.
Their meal began rather awkwardly, none of them knowing how to start a conversation. It was rare for such silences to exist when he was with Gael, but the addition of Aemma left him at a loss. The beta did not help matters, giving only one-word responses whenever either of the omegas complimented her.
It wasn’t until the topic of marriage and alphas was brought up by Daemon that the conversation began to flow. He had raised the subject mostly in hopes of catching the beta girl in some sort of lie, or prompting her to insult Viserys so he could finally have an excuse not to like her, but she never did.
Aemma had, in fact, done the complete opposite. She praised his brother for his skills and appearance. Even after Daemon assured her that he would not tell anyone if she wished to badmouth his brother—since he knew how the alpha was—she never insulted or spoke ill of him once.
She even spoke of the time they had spent together while Daemon had been in heat. Aemma gushed over how much of a gentleman Viserys was and how much they had in common. She told them about the date they went on, and how gentle and understanding Viserys had been.
Daemon could feel that familiar, ugly sensation creeping from his stomach up into his throat, making him want to vomit. And yet, he could not bring himself to hate her or be bitter about the attention his brother had given her during his absence. Not when she recounted everything in that soft voice of hers, her cheeks turning red.
“Do you love him?”
Aemma had been in the middle of one of her stories when Daemon couldn’t help but interrupt.
“Sorry? My prince, I did not hear,” the beta said, leaning closer to him.
“Do you love him? Are you in love with him?”
“Oh.” Aemma leaned back, adjusting herself better in her seat. “I would not call it love yet, but the idea of marrying him doesn’t seem so terrible anymore.”
Daemon felt the pit in his stomach deepen. His throat tightened, and his eyes stung, as though he were on the verge of tears, though he didn’t know why.
“Do you not love your betrothed, my prince?”
“Not like that.” Much to his displeasure, his voice broke at the end.
The beta definitely noticed the change in his mood, a small frown appearing on her face. She opened her mouth to say something, but was interrupted by one of the Kingsguard.
“Lady Aemma, your father has summoned you to his study.”
The girl stared at the man for a few seconds before nodding in acknowledgment. As she dismissed herself, her gaze flickered briefly toward Daemon with a curious look, though she did not comment. Daemon watched her leave. He could feel Gael’s intense gaze burning into the side of his face, which he tried to ignore—at least until Aemma was completely out of sight.
“What?” He turned to finally meet her eyes.
“Nothing. You just seem…upset,” Gael said, raising her eyebrows slightly.
“I’m not,” he responded, trying to sound nonchalant.
They stared at each other in silence for a while, both trying to come up with the best words to express what was on their minds.
“Does it upset you? That Aemma might love Viserys?” Gael questioned, trying to think of what her mother might ask in this situation.
“No,” Daemon responded too quickly. “Why would it upset me? Shouldn’t I be glad that my brother’s future wife has actually fallen in love with him?”
“I suppose.” The other omega shrugged, looking down at their empty plates. “So why aren’t you?”
Daemon stayed silent for a while, not knowing how to respond. It was strange; he had always had a witty response for everything, but now he found himself at a loss for words more often than not. He hated it—hated not knowing how to put into words what he was feeling. The biggest problem was that he himself didn’t really know what he was feeling, and that scared him.
“I don’t know,” he finally broke the silence. “I just don’t want to marry a stranger,” he said at last, trying to change the topic.
Gael gave him a sad smile, her eyes conveying all the complicated emotions she could not put into words. She reached out to grab his hand, which was resting on the table, rubbing the back of it to bring whatever comfort she could.
“I wish I could marry Otto instead,” Daemon whispered, casting his eyes down to avoid looking at the other omega. “Or Viserys…”
Gael stared at him in wonder, trying to determine whether he understood his own feelings or if he was still oblivious. Perhaps she should tell him—or perhaps it would be more entertaining to let him discover it on his own. Regardless, she was certain that the week leading up to his wedding was going to be interesting. She only hoped it would not end with Daemon getting hurt.
Whilst Princess Rhaenyra misliked her stepmother Queen Alicent, she became fond and more than fond of her good-sister Lady Laena. With Driftmark and Dragonstone so close, Daemon and Laena oft visited with the princess, and her with them.
summary - sorrow: (n.) a feeling of deep distress caused by loss, disappointment, or other misfortune suffered by oneself or others.
At last, Daemon understood his place. No matter how hard his mother or Viserys had tried to shield him, the truth was undeniable: he would have to fulfill his role. He would marry, tend to his alpha, and bear their children until he couldn’t anymore—until he died on a birthing bed, like so many omegas before him, and like many more after.
Today, his life ended. And all he could do was stand by and watch.
parings - Daemon Targaryen x Otto Hightower, Daemon Targaryen x Viserys Targaryen
warnings - Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Incest, Statutory Rape, Implied Underage Sex, Grooming
Daemon doubled over as another wave of pain washed through him. Tears gathered in his eyes, threatening to fall. His skin burned, sweat dripping down his face as another cramp hit. He covered his mouth, stifling a pained scream as bile rose in his throat, making him gag.
Pain shot up his spine as his stomach contracted. He couldn't stop the shocked yelp that escaped his lips as he clutched his belly. Immediately, the door to his chambers burst open, revealing one of his grandsire’s Kingsguard, panic written across his face.
Daemon didn’t hear what the man shouted or register when his room became flooded with maesters and ladies. All he could recall were invasive hands all over his body, cold rags pressed to his forehead, his grandsire’s angry voice, and the soothing arms of his mother shielding him from the furious King as his father stood protectively by their side.
For the next six days, he remained confined to his chambers. His body burned from the inside out, and now, a slit sat between his legs. Apart from the many ladies and Grand Maester Elysar, the only person who visited him was his mother, who now carried a faint, sweet scent.
Alyssa assured him she would explain everything once he was out of his heat—that’s what she had called it. Daemon knew about alphas, betas, and omegas; the maesters assigned to him by his grandsire had ensured that. However, following the King’s orders, his lessons focused solely on Alpha biology, just as Viserys’ had.
Everyone had expected him to present as an alpha. He was strong-willed, stubborn, and quick to anger—all traits of a respectable alpha, not an omega. So it came as a complete shock when, shortly after his four-and-ten name day, Daemon presented as the first Targaryen male omega in centuries.
Some ladies whispered that King Jaehaerys had been furious, even more so than when he had been informed of Saera’s scandal years before. The rumor of a heated argument between the King and his elder children spread quickly through the Red Keep. His Grace had been determined to disown Daemon entirely, deeming his presentation a bad omen. However, through the combined efforts of Aemon, Baelon, and Alyssa, the King ultimately accepted his grandson’s nature—though not without evident apprehension. Many suspected that Septon Barth’s counsel had played a crucial role in his final decision.
After six agonizing days, Daemon emerged from his chambers. He was bathed and dressed by scentless ladies under the watchful eyes of his father, Baelon Targaryen, who, the boy noted, now smelled like a forest after a rainy day. He also observed how his uncle Aemon seemed to always be nearby, ever watchful, and how his cousin Rhaenys treated him with newfound gentleness. He didn’t like it.
Everyone around him had changed. They handled him as though he were made of delicate porcelain, something that might break under too much scrutiny. Even his brother, Viserys, avoided him, leaving any room they shared whenever Daemon got too close. His mother assured him that things would return to normal with time, but he wanted his family back now.
A month after his four-and-ten name day, Daemon Targaryen was formally presented to the court as a suitable omega. King Jaehaerys hosted a grand banquet in his honor, attended by numerous alpha lords and ladies, all dressed in their finest in hopes of catching the young omega’s eye. He wasn’t particularly interested in any of them. But days after his heat had ended, his grandsire had summoned him, explaining the necessity of finding a suitable alpha from a high house and marrying.
Marriage did not sound appealing to Daemon. He would be given to some important lord or lady, taken to their lands, and expected to bear children for the rest of his life—or at least, that’s how his grandmother had put it.
Alysanne had been deeply unhappy with her husband’s decision to present their four-and-ten-year-old grandson to the court as a potential spouse. Most of the lords and ladies who put themselves forward were old enough to be Daemon’s parent. And that was it—Daemon was still a child. Despite his presentation, he had not changed, save for the occasional scrunched nose when he encountered an unfamiliar scent.
She had learned from past mistakes and knew that marrying off a child too young never ended well. But her husband did not share her views. Days before the banquet, when Alysanne voiced her concerns, the King had dismissed them, telling her she had nothing to worry about—that she had the heart of an omega, soft and fragile. That day, she realized she would have to protect Daemon herself.
Alyssa Targaryen adjusted the bust of her dress as she watched the high houses enter the throne room. Baratheon, Stark, Lannister, Tyrell, Tully—they all blurred together, all of them filthy alphas seeking her youngest son. It didn’t matter which house they belonged to.
Her husband sat to her left, with Daemon and Viserys to her right. One by one, the alphas stepped forward to introduce themselves to the King and the newly presented omega. Baelon could feel his anger rising with each lord or lady who dared express their intent to court his son. Each suitor seemed older than the last—some even older than he was. And yet they all expected to have the privilege of marrying his four-and-ten-year-old child. It disgusted him.
Baelon stole a glance at Daemon, seated a little farther to his right. His father had insisted he wear more ‘omega-like’ clothing, so he was now dressed in a beautifully embroidered black and red off-the-shoulder gown. His pale shoulders and the top of his chest were exposed, much to Baelon and Alyssa’s discomfort. The hungry eyes cast upon his son made Baelon clench his fists to keep from standing and gouging out the eyes of every lord and lady who dared look at him.
Daemon could feel the weight of the room’s gaze burning into his skin. Beside him sat Otto Hightower, and on his other side, his older brother, Viserys. Their strong scents made him dizzy. He squirmed nervously, feeling wetness seeping from the slit between his legs and dampening his undergarments. Pressing his thighs together, he looked up at his brother—only to find Viserys already watching him.
No matter how hard he tried, Viserys couldn’t ignore his brother’s sweet scent, which seemed to grow stronger with each passing second. He stole quick glances at the omega, but when Daemon met his gaze, he forced himself to look away. His fists clenched at his sides, nails digging into his palms as he fought to keep his composure.
He dared another glance, only to find Daemon staring at Otto Hightower. A faint hint of arousal now tainted his scent, sending Viserys’ blood boiling.
His gaze snapped to the older alpha, who was also watching Daemon. Viserys could see the desire in Otto’s eyes—smell it, even. It sickened him.
Otto Hightower had always harbored an unsettling fascination with his little brother. Though no one believed him, Viserys had noticed the man’s lingering glances and his overly familiar treatment of Daemon. Innocent as he was, Daemon basked in the attention. His parents dismissed Viserys’ concerns, and when he had brought them before his grandsire, the King had simply waved them away.
Daemon had always thrived on attention, and Otto Hightower was always too happy to give it to him. Viserys couldn’t remember the exact moment the older man took an interest in his younger brother. All he could recall was how the man had started to join the little boy in his various lessons and how Daemon began to tell him about how Otto had promised to speak with their grandsire so he could start his sword training. Now, with his brother having presented as an omega, his dreams of becoming a knight seemed so far away.
Viserys looked to his brother, who kept staring at their grandsire’s hand with a big smile. Before he could reprimand him, Lord Tymond Lannister approached the royal family. His demeanor was smug and confident, and in his right hand, he held a cup full of wine. He stumbled slightly, clearly drunk, but he seemed determined to reach them.
“Your Grace, I must extend my compliments for the wonderful banquet,” he declared excitedly, his eyes fixed on his grandsire. He was acting like a buffoon.
“Ah, yes, thank you, Lord Tymond,” the King responded with a fake smile.
“Yes, well, I was wondering…” His voice trailed off as his gaze traveled across the table to the youngest omega of the family, his little brother. “If the guest of honor, Prince Daemon, would grace me with a dance?”
At the lord’s bold request, Prince Baelon almost choked on his cup of wine. Viserys, on the other hand, immediately turns to Daemon to see his reaction. The omega looked shocked, his eyes wide and his mouth slightly open. He didn’t respond right away, but the alpha could smell his brother’s increasing anxiousness as the seconds passed.
“Don’t you have a wife, Lord Tymond?” Viserys questioned loudly, ensuring everyone at the table could hear. He felt his mother’s eyes bore into the side of his face, but he didn’t back down. “And two children, twins, I heard.”
“Yes, I—” the lord tried to interject, but was quickly shut down.
“How old were they again? Six? Seven?” Viserys continued his questioning, his tone mocking.
“I fail to see the relevance, my prince,” Lord Tymond said, his voice tinged with anger.
“Well, don’t you think it would create the roots of a scandal?” Viserys frowned, looking directly at the other alpha. “A married alpha boldly dancing with an unmarried, newly presented omega—what would his future spouse think?”
“I hardly believe it matters. I just thought it’d be a good way to introduce Prince Daemon to the dance floor,” he turned to look at the omega, a sleazy smile on his face. “That way, the younger alphas can gain the courage to ask for the next dance. It’d be an opportunity for him to meet his suitors.” Viserys could see the lord’s gaze traveling down his brother’s body, and his fists clenched in anger.
“I believe it’d be wiser for his father to be the one to introduce him, as you say,” Alyssa interjected before her son could respond. She looked at Baelon expectantly.
The alpha turned to his wife with wide eyes before looking back at Lord Tymond. “Yes, of course, I shall be the one to take Daemon.”
Baelon swiftly got off his seat and approached his youngest son, offering him a hand to help him stand. Daemon stared at his father’s outstretched hand for a few seconds before taking it and letting himself be guided to the center of the room.
As the father and son walked to the center, all eyes followed their every move. Daemon could feel holes burning into his skin as the alphas in the room stared at him. Everyone moved aside as they made their way through the crowd. The omega covered his nose with his free hand, the aroused scents of the alphas suffocating him.
He stepped closer to his father, seeking comfort, as they stopped in the middle of the crowd. Baelon turned to his son, still holding his hand. He reached out with his other hand and wrapped his arm around Daemon’s waist.
“It’s all right. Do as the septas taught you.” The omega nodded and extended his hand to rest on his father’s shoulder.
A slow song filled the room. As they swayed to the tune, the crowd stared at them for a moment—until Aemon and Jocelyn joined them. With that, more people began to dance to the beautiful ballad. Alyssa looked to Viserys and nudged him harshly, signaling him to ask her to dance. The young alpha groaned quietly before offering his hand and taking his mother down to join the party.
Soon, everyone in the room fell into a synchronized dance. Daemon clung to his father; even with more bodies around him, he could still feel hungry eyes traveling all over him. He looked around, spotting his mother and brother close by. The woman kept stealing glances at him, a reassuring smile on her face.
The omega’s eyes then moved to the other side of the room, where he locked eyes with the strange alpha. “I don’t want to marry him,” he whispered, turning to his father.
“Who?” Baelon asked, frowning.
“The strange alpha who spoke with my grandsire,” he responded, trying to look over his father’s shoulder.
Baelon turned to look behind him, catching the older alpha’s gaze. “Lord Tymond? You’re not going to marry him, Daemon. Who told you that?”
“No one,” he said, adjusting the bust of the ugly dress his grandmother had made him wear as he felt the old man’s gaze fixed on him. “He just keeps staring at me.”
Baelon felt anger rising up his spine as he tightened his hold on his younger son. Suddenly, all the alphas’ aroused scents rushed at him. His eyes traveled around the room; all he could see were dark, hungry eyes staring at his four-and-ten-year-old son.
“I won’t let them marry you off to anyone you don’t like, Daemon,” he said, looking directly into his son’s eyes.
Before he could say anything else, he felt someone tap him on the shoulder. Turning around, he came face to face with his father’s Hand. For a moment, he didn’t know what to do. The man’s intentions were clear, but he didn’t want to leave his son alone with an alpha. Granted, Otto Hightower was probably the safest option, even if Viserys thought otherwise.
He reluctantly let go of Daemon and stepped aside to allow Otto to take his place. The omega’s eyes lit up when they fell on the other alpha, catching Baelon off guard. His son didn’t hesitate to hold the man’s hand and didn’t flinch when Otto wrapped his arm around his waist.
Baelon stepped away from them, but he couldn’t stop staring. Not until a quick movement to his side caught his attention. He turned just in time to see Viserys swiftly stomping over to Daemon and Otto. Not wanting his eldest son to cause a commotion, Baelon intercepted him, abruptly stopping him in his tracks.
“Don’t. We’ll talk later,” he said under his breath, his voice stern. The younger alpha tried to shove past him, but Baelon tightened his hold. “I said we’ll talk later, Viserys.”
Daemon, ignorant to his family’s conflict, smiled up at the alpha in front of him. Otto Hightower held the omega closer as he noticed the subtle exchange between the father and son—the slight shift in the younger’s scent making him smirk.
“You look absolutely dashing, my prince,” the older man complimented, making the omega’s cheeks hot with a small blush.
“Really?” Daemon looked down at himself. “I don’t like it. The dress is itchy and ugly, and I feel naked while wearing it,” he continued, looking around at the eyes that kept staring at him.
“Well, it suits you,” Otto’s voice made him turn back to look at him. “You should wear more dresses,” the alpha said as he looked the boy up and down.
“But I don’t like them,” Daemon pouted up at the man. “I like pants, and armor, like the knights, and like my father and uncle,” he described, his eyes sparkling in admiration.
“You’re an omega now Daemon,” the alpha’s hand traveled a little lower, now resting on the omega’s lower back. “You shouldn’t wear pants.”
“My mother wears pants, and she’s an omega, so why can’t I?” Daemon questioned with a deep frown on his face.
“You’re unmarried, my prince,” Otto explained as they continued swaying to the slow tune. “You should dress to attract an alpha,” his eyes moved down to the omega’s lips and then to the sliver of his chest, the off-the-shoulder dress left exposed. He was still flat, but he knew they'd become fuller after a pregnancy or two.
“But I don’t want to attract an alpha, they all stink and stare too much,” the omega scrunched his nose in disgust. He paused for a second before looking up at the older man innocently. “Well, you don’t. I like your scent. Maybe you could marry me,” Otto watched as the younger’s cheeks turned red, looking up at him through his eyelashes.
“What are you saying, my prince?” Otto asked, faking surprise.
“Well, you can marry me, so I won’t be unmarried anymore, and I can wear pants and armor and be a knight,” the omega listed, his gaze fixed on the alpha, his eyes had a hopeful glint in them.
Otto smiled softly down at the boy. “That’s not how it works, sweet boy,” he pressed the omega closer to him as he saw other alphas watching them.
“Why not?” Daemon frowned deeply, his sweet scent shifted slightly. The woodsy side of his scent increased with a hint of burning, signaling his rising anger.
“If you are to marry, you need to fulfill your omega duties,” Otto smirked smugly at Lord Tymond, who kept staring at them while downing wine cups.
“And what are those duties?” Daemon asked. He knew that omegas had certain responsibilities, but the septas had never specified what they were.
The alpha stared at him for a few minutes, debating in his head if he should tell him or not. He caught the boy’s sweet, curious scent, and as his eyes fell on the omega’s beautiful face, he decided to throw caution out. “You are to fulfill your alpha’s needs without complaint, bear their children, and devote your life to your spouse and offsprings, but they’re not important right now,” the alpha shrugged, downplaying his words.
Daemon groaned loudly and stumped his feet like a child, but he didn’t say anything else. They continued dancing to the soft tune of the song that was playing. When the song finished, Daemon felt a soft touch on his back. Turning around, he came face to face with an unfamiliar alpha smiling down at him. The man looked at Otto, who reluctantly detached himself from Daemon. The boy hesitated a little before letting the alpha take his hand and guide him through the song.
The rest of the night, Daemon fluttered from alpha to alpha, granting one dance to every man or woman that had come to celebrate him. At the end of the night, the omega was exhausted, his feet ached, and he could still feel hands on his body. The alphas had not held themselves back; they had allowed themselves to touch the boy. Most had not gone past his lower back, except one that had boldly tried to fondle his behind.
Daemon yelped slightly when he felt a hand travel too low down his back. He didn’t have time to reprimand the man, an alpha from House Baratheon, since Viserys was already violently grabbing his arm. His brother pulled the alpha away from him. The sudden commotion made everyone turn to look at them.
Viserys twisted the bold alpha’s arm behind his back, making him groan in pain. He leaned closer and whispered a threat in the man’s ear. The man reacted immediately, pulling away from his brother and leaving the throne room with fast steps.
The party had dwindled soon after, with Viserys not letting any man or woman come near him, growling like an animal at every alpha that stepped too close. King Jaehaerys then announced the end of the celebration, wanting to spare himself the embarrassment of the court watching one of his grandchildren acting like a lowborn.
Daemon was sent to his chambers shortly after, much to his annoyance. He was accompanied by Ser Harrold Westerling, the Commander of the Kingsguard, and one of the only men whom Baelon trusted enough to look after his newly presented son. After he made sure Daemon and his guard were out of sight, he turned to glare at his eldest son.
“Our chambers. Now,” the alpha’s firm tone left no room for argument. Viserys could only let out a deep, dramatic sigh and followed after his parents with unsure steps.
“Daemon will have to marry, whether you like it or not,” Alyssa Targaryen said as she glared at her eldest son. “You have to let go of your overprotectiveness.”
They were now in her and Baelon’s chambers, gathered in the small sitting area by the lit fireplace, which gave the room a warm, homey atmosphere. They sat on the large couch facing the fire, while Viserys stood, pacing from one side to the other.
He had known it was only a matter of time before his little brother presented. Despite everyone else believing Daemon would be an alpha, he had always felt he would present as an omega. He had been right—but after scenting his brother for the first time, he almost wished he hadn’t. It had been unlike anything he had ever smelled: cherries and roses, with a hint of birchwood and fire. The scent had felt hypnotic, lingering in his nose for days. It scared him.
Viserys stopped pacing and finally faced his parents. “He’s four and ten,” he said.
“He has presented, Viserys,” Alyssa countered immediately, rubbing her brow to ease an incoming headache. “He’s an omega grown.” She stood and took measured steps across the room, trying to end the conversation.
Viserys didn’t give up easily. “How could you say that about your own child, Mother?”
Alyssa turned abruptly and strode back toward her eldest son. “He’s an omega, Viserys!” Her voice rose with each word, her anger boiling over. “We don’t get to decide when or whom we marry. His life stopped being his the moment he presented. That’s how it has always been—and his older brother behaving like a brat won’t change anything!”
After the omega’s outburst, the room fell completely silent. Viserys was speechless. The only sound came from the crackling fireplace. Not even Baelon dared to break the silence.
They stayed like that for what felt like hours, but it was only a few seconds. Viserys wanted to say something, anything, but the words escaped him. Alyssa stared at her son, trying to make him understand—or perhaps trying to read what was going through his mind. Whatever it was, she seemed frustrated. She swiftly turned and walked back to the long couch near the fire.
“Betroth him to me,” he said suddenly. He didn’t know why he said it—what had possessed him to blurt out such a ridiculous suggestion.
Regardless, the words were out. Now both his parents stared at him, their expressions unreadable beneath the weight of so many emotions.
He couldn’t deny it anymore. Since Daemon’s presentation, his little brother had become an obsession. He would admit he’d been avoiding him—because he knew that the omega’s scent alone could send him into an early rut if he allowed it. Every time they shared a room, he felt himself unraveling. Each second pushed him closer to crossing a line—to becoming one of those alphas from the banquet, or worse.
But that was the point: if not him, then Daemon would be given to one of those alphas who couldn’t control themselves. He couldn’t imagine what he would do if his brother were ever harmed by the person meant to protect him. He would kill them, regardless of their status or what the court believed an omega’s role in marriage should be.
After everything that had happened tonight, he didn’t know what was worse: a strange alpha far too old to be showing interest in a boy of four and ten, or Otto Hightower. His grandsire’s hand was a strange man—an alpha, married to a beautiful beta woman he seemed to love. At least, that’s what Viserys had believed until recently, when Otto began sniffing around Daemon after his presentation.
Neither option was acceptable. That’s why he was the only viable one—Daemon’s elder brother, someone who would protect and love him in ways no other could. His own flesh and blood, who would never hurt him. It wasn’t like sibling marriage was rare in their family—their parents were brother and sister. It wouldn’t be a problem. He just had to make his parents—and grandsire—see that.
“You’re already betrothed, Viserys,” his mother finally broke the long silence. He didn’t know how long it had lasted; he had been too lost in thought to count the moments of anguish.
“To Aemma Arryn. A girl no older than Daemon. A beta who hasn’t even bled yet,” Viserys shot back. Aemma was pretty and kind—a bit naïve, which came with her age—but she wasn’t Daemon.
“It’s not just a marriage agreement,” Baelon said at last, his tone stern, revealing his growing frustration. “It’s a political alliance.”
“We’ll marry one of mine and Daemon’s children to a child from the Vale,” Viserys replied, as though that alone would fix everything, as if that one suggestion would shift his parents' minds.
“Why must you be so stubborn?” Alyssa sounded exhausted, her head falling into her hand as she rubbed her eyes.
Viserys turned toward the omega, his anger rising with every passing second. “Or what, Mother? Would you rather Daemon marry some old lord who’ll keep him locked up, birthing children for the rest of his life?” His voice grew louder with every word, frustration now overflowing.
“I’d much rather he not marry at all!” Alyssa snapped, cutting him off as she stood abruptly and faced him. They stood inches apart, neither willing to back down.
Alyssa was the first to break, sighing in frustration and defeat as she sat back down, her head dropping into her hands. “But he’s a royal omega,” she whispered. Her voice was so low that the two alphas in the room had to strain to hear it. “Not even we get to decide what happens to our own son.”
The room fell silent again. Viserys stared at his mother. Minutes might have passed—or maybe only seconds. A flurry of thoughts stormed through his mind, leaving him breathless. He didn’t know what to say.
Of course, he knew what Daemon’s place was now that he had presented, at least in the eyes of the court. His life was no longer his own. His body was no longer his own. It belonged to the King, to be sold or bargained with as he pleased.
It wasn’t fair. Daemon was wonderful, strong, intelligent, and talented. He was more than just an omega—more than just a womb. But it was impossible to change the mindset of an entire kingdom. The next best thing was ensuring his brother would be safe with him.
“Besides, King Jaehaerys would never agree to a marriage between you and Daemon,” Baelon’s voice cut through the haze. Viserys turned to him. His father now sat beside Alyssa, his expression tired and defeated. “Let it go, Viserys.”
Viserys stared at them both. He didn’t respond. He couldn’t help the disappointment blooming in his chest—disappointment that they were giving up so easily. That they were letting his grandsire use their youngest son as a pawn to increase his power. But he couldn’t truly blame them. They had lived under that mentality all their lives—raised by it, shaped by it, governed by it.
With one final look at them, he turned and left the room without another word. He took long strides back to his chambers, resisting the urge to go to his baby brother’s room. It wouldn’t be appropriate. Besides, he was sure his grandsire had posted guards outside Daemon’s door, ordering them not to let him in under any circumstances after his behavior at the banquet.
So, with difficulty, he ignored his deepest urges and walked to his bedroom. Locking the door behind him, he curled into bed, pulling the blankets over himself and closing his eyes, hoping for a dreamless sleep. The next morning, he was grateful no one could see dreams. For the images his mind had conjured of Daemon were impure and wrong—yet he couldn’t bring himself to care. Not anymore.
Daemon groaned as two of the maids his grandsire had assigned to him after his presentation entered his chambers early that morning. Like every morning for the past three months, one went to the large window at the side of his bedroom to draw the curtains, while the other carefully approached his bed, intending to wake him. And like every morning, they quickly fell into their routine, getting the omega ready for the day.
As he got out of bed to allow the maid to tidy it, he watched two guards enter, carrying a porcelain bath. The men swiftly placed it in the center of the room before leaving, careful not to look at the young omega. As usual, the two maids helped him undress while tankards of hot water and fresh rags were brought in and placed beside the tub.
The bath was filled quickly, and Daemon got in without waiting for the water to cool. He let out a satisfied sigh as he sank into the warmth, closing his eyes as the two maids took his arms and began scrubbing them with clean rags. He nearly drifted back to sleep as they bathed him with his favorite scented soap and gently washed his long hair. Afterward, he was thoroughly dried and dressed in a delicate red tunic, cinched at the waist, with golden embroidery along the hem and sleeves.
Now seated in front of his vanity— a gift from his father—Daemon remained still as one of the maids stood behind him, carefully combing through his hair. She massaged oil into his scalp with the tenderness of a mother before taking two strands from the front and braiding them. Then she tied the braids together at the back of his head.
The omega stared at himself in the mirror, turning his head side to side to better see his hair. Like his clothing, his hairstyles had changed since presenting; his grandsire had ordered his maids to arrange his hair in more omega-like styles. In addition, soft-scented oils had been added to his daily routine to enhance his delicate appearance. The only thing he had been allowed to keep was his favorite sandalwood-scented soap.
Most of the time, the soap’s fragrance was drowned out by the perfumed oils and his natural scent rising to the surface, but he could always catch the faint trace of sandalwood lingering throughout the day. He had always found it comforting.
Daemon watched the sunlight streaming through the window as it caught in his silver hair, making it shine. That, at least, was one benefit of all the new steps added to his routine. He looked more delicate and beautiful, in his mother’s words. More omega-like, in King Jaehaerys’ words. He didn’t like those words too much. He wanted to be tough and strong, handsome and an alpha. But it was impossible to change one’s subgender, and Daemon would have to learn how to live with that.
As the omega sighed in defeat, someone entered the room unannounced. Before he could turn around and yell at them for bursting into his chambers so carelessly, the woman spoke.
“Good morning, my prince.” It was Ella, his handmaiden—personally assigned to him by Queen Alysanne, hand-picked from among her own ladies-in-waiting.
She was one of his grandmother’s youngest ladies, likely the reason the queen had entrusted her with his care. Ella was kind—kinder than Septa Lyna, who had been tasked with his instruction in the Faith after his presentation. The old woman could be pleasant when he cooperated, which was rare.
Daemon enjoyed making people mad, getting on their nerves, under their skin—pushing them just far enough to see when they’d break. People had become far more patient with him since he presented as an omega. Before, it hadn’t taken long for someone to reprimand him, raise a hand, or threaten to strike him to silence his tongue. Now, they simply got frustrated, but never raised their voices or even thought of laying a finger on him. He was seen as fragile, and his outbursts were chalked up to his omega hormones acting out.
“Nothing good about this morning,” he sighed, turning to look at the petite beta, who beamed brightly at him.
The woman laughed softly, the fond smile never leaving her face. “Perhaps I can change your mind,” came a deep voice from the other side of his still-ajar door—his older brother’s.
With hopeful eyes, Daemon turned to look and saw Viserys entering the room, his gaze cast downward, one hand pressed to his forehead as if shielding his eyes.
“Are you decent?” the alpha asked, sneaking a glance at his brother with a smirk drawn across his face.
The omega couldn’t help but giggle, standing up from his vanity and running to his brother. “Are you here to take me somewhere?” Viserys felt his chest clench as he looked down at his little brother, who gazed up at him with mismatched eyes, fluttering his lashes adorably.
“Maybe later, but first, you have to break your fast,” he chuckled softly, watching the omega’s smile shift into a pout. “Don’t look at me like that—you’re too skinny. Come on, I’ll accompany you,” he added, offering his arm.
Daemon’s pout deepened, but he rolled his eyes and reluctantly hooked his arm through the alpha’s. It was true—he had lost a significant amount of weight and had needed many of his old clothes resized after his diet was changed. Now he looked small, like he might break if the wind blew too hard—more omega-like. That, of course, greatly pleased his grandsire.
Viserys pulled him along toward the gardens, Daemon chatting the entire way. His happy scent lingered in their wake, announcing to all just how delighted he was to have his older brother by his side.
As they took their meal, Daemon rambled about the past few months, and Viserys was more than happy to simply sit and listen. A good portion of the meal was spent complaining about the lack of meat in his diet—another change made after his presentation. His meals now consisted mostly of fruits and vegetables, with meat reduced to the bare minimum, much to his annoyance. This prompted the alpha to sneak some meat from his own plate onto his baby brother’s, which made the little omega smile brightly.
That expression—and the happy, sweet scent that wafted from his brother—made Viserys’s stomach flip. He brought a hand up, trying to cover his nose from the alluring smell. Daemon’s scent still affected him greatly, but he had stopped ignoring and avoiding him after the omega had very publicly demanded that he stop treating him differently and just act like an older brother—because he needed him.
It had been humiliating, to say the least, but necessary. The truth was, Viserys had been so preoccupied with his own feelings about his baby brother’s presentation that he never stopped to think about how Daemon felt about all the changes that had come his way. They had always been close—Viserys had always felt protective and responsible for him—and that hadn’t changed after learning Daemon was an omega. But something had shifted, at least for him.
Daemon was no longer just the annoying little brother who followed him everywhere. He was now an omega—a potential mate in his alpha’s eyes—who happened to be his brother, only four-and-ten. Viserys felt like shit every time he was reminded of how young he actually was. Even if Daemon was considered of mating age, his youth and delicate appearance made it all feel so wrong.
And it wasn’t just his age. The simple fact that he was his brother—his blood—made it forbidden in the eyes of the court. It may have been more accepted within their family, but they were royalty, always under scrutiny and bound by the expectations and judgments of others. Viserys saw that now.
He had been enjoying his time with Daemon—until the boy mentioned Otto Hightower. He should’ve known the other alpha would come up eventually, but he could have gone a few more hours without hearing his name escape his little brother’s lips. That man had apparently been showering the omega with small gifts, courting him under the guise of helping him settle into his subgender. Viserys wasn’t buying it.
He had half a mind to go to Otto’s wife, Alyrie Florent, and make the man stop, but he didn’t want to cause a scandal or burden her with more worries than she already had. She was a beta—pretty and sophisticated, far too good for Otto, if Viserys was being honest—but she somehow saw something in him.
They had one child, Gawyne, a two-year-old baby with red hair like his mother. Just one child, but not for lack of trying. They had been attempting to conceive again for a long time, with no success. King Jaehaerys blamed Alyrie, but Viserys always suspected it had more to do with Otto. Not that he was necessarily infertile, but his cold attitude and emotional distance surely affected the beta.
Regardless, that alpha was sniffing around his baby brother—along with every other lord and lady in the Seven Kingdoms, it seemed. So, it was Viserys’s duty as Daemon’s alpha older brother to protect him. To keep him from falling for some good-for-nothing alpha or beta—or, at the very least, to teach him how to protect himself when Viserys wasn’t there.
“How would you like to go somewhere secret tonight?”
At his words, Viserys saw Daemon’s mismatched eyes sparkle, a huge smile blooming across his soft face. “Where is it?”
“Well, it wouldn’t be a secret if I just told you, would it?” The omega pouted adorably, but the act didn’t last long—his smile quickly returned. “But you can’t tell Mother or Father. Actually, you can’t tell anyone. It has to be our secret.”
“I won’t tell anyone, I promise,” Daemon said, extending his small hand for him to shake.
Viserys stared at the outstretched arm, a smirk creeping across his face as his stomach flipped again. He took his brother’s much smaller hand, his calloused fingers engulfing it completely. It did things to him—things he wasn’t ready to name. And so the deal was sealed. Shortly after, Viserys was called away by his father, leaving Daemon alone with the promise that he’d come find him that night.
The omega tried not to look disappointed by his brother’s departure, but the promise of that secret destination buoyed his spirits. As he passed the time between lessons, his mind kept drifting back to it. Where could his brother want to take him?
Maybe the Dragonpit. Or Dragonstone. He had been begging his parents and grandsire to let him claim a dragon—perhaps even one of the wild ones. Like Viserys, the dragon egg placed in his cradle had turned to stone. Unlike Viserys, he hadn’t yet bonded with a dragon. His parents had promised him one, though, so it didn’t quite make sense for Viserys to ask him to keep it a secret… so maybe not.
A million more possibilities filled his mind—some he couldn’t even explain. Things he perhaps shouldn’t be imagining about his brother. He tried to keep busy, to distract himself from the wait, to make the day go faster.
Eventually, it did. The day had dragged on far more than he wanted, but at last, night arrived. He waited eagerly, sitting on one of the couches in his chambers after bathing and changing into more comfortable yet finer clothes. Viserys hadn’t specified the hour, so Daemon had gotten ready with time to spare.
He wasn’t sure how long he had been waiting when a hidden door in the wall—one he hadn’t even known existed—suddenly opened, revealing his older brother’s smirking face.
“Are you ready?”
“Yes! Let’s go!” the omega cried, springing from the couch and skipping up to the alpha with a wide, excited grin. “Where did you even come from?” he asked, unable to help himself as he peered past his brother into the newly revealed doorway.
“These, little dragon, are Maegor’s secret passageways, built so he could make a quick escape. But to us, they’re an easy way to sneak around the Red Keep without being seen,” Viserys explained, stepping to the side so the omega could see.
Daemon’s eyes lit up as his mismatched gaze danced around the dimly lit tunnel. The alpha watched him for a few seconds before extending his hand for the other to take. The omega accepted it without a second thought, and with Viserys leading, they navigated through the tunnels until they exited through a door that led into the Great Hall.
The alpha turned to him, signaling him to stay quiet as he pushed the door open. Daemon followed his older brother, sneaking through the shadows to remain unseen. Viserys guided him across the Great Hall and through the main gate into the Great Yard, used as training grounds for the Kingsguard—and where Viserys himself trained under their father.
Just as Daemon’s eyes landed on the training dummies and the table filled with wooden swords, it finally dawned on him what his brother intended.
“You’re going to train me to be a knight!”
“I want to teach you how to defend yourself,” the alpha clarified before the omega could get too excited.
“And with that, I can become a knight, right?” Daemon pressed, hopeful violet and green eyes peering up at him.
“I’m not quite sure about that, Daemon.” Viserys wished it were different—that his brother could achieve the goal he’d been chasing for years without his subgender standing in the way—but that wasn’t how the world worked. Not for them.
“Why not? You can teach me, and when Father sees my progress, he’ll speak to the king—and they’ll make me a knight!”
“It’s not that simple, little dragon,” Viserys said, trying to reason with the young omega. But his resolve was already crumbling.
“Why not? If I become a knight, I won’t have to marry one of those old alphas.”
The prospect of his baby brother avoiding marriage and living as a royal knight stirred something inside him. Viserys knew it was nearly impossible. The king’s prejudices would never allow for an omega knight—especially not one of royal blood, whom he could sell off for an advantageous alliance. Still, he couldn’t help but hope. Besides, how could he say no to those fluttering lashes and mismatched eyes staring up at him in anticipation? He was nothing but a weak alpha under his brother’s charm.
“Fine. We’ll see what we can do. I promise.”
At his words, Daemon beamed, completely melting the alpha’s heart. And with that, Viserys’s lesson began.
He started by explaining the basics of swordplay before even letting him hold a weapon. The omega clung to every word, nodding eagerly. Viserys also tried to lecture him on safety, but by the look on his brother’s face—and his constant, excited bouncing—it was clear he wasn’t absorbing much.
When it was finally time to pick a sword, Daemon couldn’t contain his excitement any longer. The small omega, nearly dwarfed by the large wooden sword he chose, swung it around with wild glee, making Viserys laugh softly.
“Maybe we should give you one more your size—for now,” he added, watching his brother’s smile fade into a frown.
Daemon pouted the whole time but allowed Viserys to swap it for a smaller weapon. Taking one for himself, Viserys demonstrated proper stance and grip to avoid injury or having it knocked away. Daemon tried to mimic him, clumsily, prompting Viserys to step in and guide his posture.
Daemon didn’t know why, but he felt nervous under his brother’s touch. He knew Viserys was only helping, but his inner omega wouldn’t stop purring with happiness. He tried to ignore it, but it was hard—especially when his mind kept drifting to other scenarios in which his brother might touch him like this.
He missed Viserys. Missed when they could run around the Red Keep all day, back when subgenders didn’t matter—before he had presented. Life had been simpler then. He hadn’t had to worry about appearances, court whispers, or how close he was to the nearest alpha in the room.
Back then, he could spend time with his brother without worrying about the strange thoughts that plagued him now. Without the lure of the alpha’s scent that made his knees weak. He hated how helpless he felt in his presence—how out of control.
He wished he could go back to when his brother’s scent was just a blur. When he didn’t care that Viserys had been in rut recently—or that another was fast approaching. Nothing had mattered because he had simply been his brother. Nothing more. Now, his stupid omega instincts only saw him as a potential mate.
Then there was Otto Hightower. His grandsire’s hand had always been kind to him. He was much older—married, too—but the omega in him wouldn’t shut up whenever the man was near. Otto was old, like the lords who’d attended his presentation banquet—lords he’d found repugnant. But Otto wasn’t like them.
He was a gentleman. He didn’t touch him without permission. He showed interest in Daemon’s passions. He paid attention—without Daemon needing to ask for it, unlike Viserys.
Still, whatever he thought about either alpha didn’t matter. His grandsire had already informed him of his intent to marry him off soon. He was still searching for a suitable lord, but Daemon knew it was just a matter of time. He’d be wed to someone from a High House and sent far away—never to see Viserys or Otto again.
He’d fought it for months after his presentation, but now he had no strength left to resist. He couldn’t fight his subgender or his fate. He couldn’t stand against centuries of tradition. It didn’t matter that he was a prince—or a Targaryen. A dragon. He was just an omega.
His Valyrian blood only made him more valuable—a pawn for alliance. If his grandsire was persuasive, he might even broker a deal with the Martells. All for the fair price of Daemon.
He was pulled from his thoughts as Viserys struck the wooden sword in his hand. “See? That way it won’t go flying when your opponent strikes,” he explained, stepping back into a familiar stance. “Alright—no better teacher than practice.”
Daemon’s eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really. Now prepare yourself. I’m not going easy on you just because it’s your first time—or because you’re an omega,” the alpha said with a smirk.
He nudged Daemon’s sword slightly, nodded, then lunged forward. Instinctively, Daemon stepped back. He tried to strike back, swinging to hit his brother, but Viserys blocked it with ease. The alpha took advantage of the distraction and landed a hit. Daemon yelped, swinging wildly in return—but missed.
“No fair! I wasn’t ready!”
“Come on, little omega,” Viserys taunted, circling him like a predator. “You won’t learn if you don’t try.”
“You haven’t taught me anything useful!” Daemon shot back, eyes locked on his brother.
“Just try to block my attacks.” And with that, Viserys pounced again.
This time, Daemon managed to block the first blow—but was struck by the second, too slow to react.
“Don’t dwell on individual attacks,” Viserys advised. “Concentrate on the fight as a whole.”
Daemon nodded, adjusting. “Again.”
They continued for hours. Viserys had tried to call it quits halfway through, thinking it was enough for a first lesson, but the omega insisted. So they carried on. Daemon was improving—quicker on his feet, more focused. Impressive progress for a first time.
Now, they stood facing each other, sweat dripping from their brows, muscles aching. Viserys searched for an opening; Daemon stood ready. When he saw his chance, the alpha swung at his brother’s torso—but Daemon blocked it. He countered, but Viserys deflected. They circled, striking, dodging, blocking, each trying to land a touch with their wooden swords—neither succeeding.
Finally, Viserys swung low to sweep Daemon’s legs—but Daemon reacted fast, grabbing the alpha’s arm. Though knocked off his feet, the omega’s grip and momentum pulled Viserys down with him, and the older boy landed on top of him with a grunt.
Luckily, Viserys caught himself with both arms, avoiding collision. But looking down, he met Daemon’s wide, mismatched eyes—and froze. They stared at each other, speechless. The alpha could swear Daemon’s cheeks flushed pink.
Daemon lay sprawled on the stone floor, hair fanned around him, legs slightly open where Viserys had landed between. Their lower halves pressed together. Viserys felt heat pool in his gut—and an unwelcome stirring in his breeches.
“Eh—perhaps it’s best we end here today,” Viserys said, breaking the silence.
Daemon only nodded, allowing Viserys to help him up. Neither spoke. They cleaned up in silence and returned to the Red Keep via the secret tunnels. Viserys dropped Daemon off at his bedchamber with a quiet goodnight, then retreated to his own.
Despite the awkward end to their night, they kept meeting in secret. Viserys suspected the Kingsguard—and certainly Daemon’s personal guards—knew, but none said a word. That first night’s incident didn’t happen again, but the two grew closer, which pleased them both.
Eventually, they graduated from wooden swords to iron, and later to other weapons. Viserys wanted Daemon prepared for any scenario. If he couldn’t be there to protect him, Daemon had to be able to protect himself—even from a future spouse.
Their parents and grandsire might have gambled with Daemon’s safety—but not Viserys. He’d die for his brother. Or kill. Whichever came first.
Daemon stared into the distance, letting his mind wander as the voice of Septa Lyna trailed off, sounding far away. He rested his head on the palm of his hand, his other drawing patterns on the wooden table in front of him.
He was in his daily lesson on the Faith with Septa Lyna. It had been about an hour since they started, and the lessons lasted two. He had stopped listening less than thirty minutes in, the woman’s monotone voice threatening to lull him to sleep.
He thought about his nightly lessons with Viserys—the kind of lesson he wished he were in at that moment. He was sure his alpha brother was in the Great Yard right now, swinging his sword around, sparring with the Kingsguards, with their father and uncle. Meanwhile, he was stuck inside the library, hearing about divine power, only to later move on to embroidery and etiquette, like clockwork.
Tomorrow would be the same, though with reading and writing lessons added in between. Ella had also informed him that his dancing lessons were approaching. Preparations for his marriage had begun.
Every time he thought about the inevitable, his stomach churned. It hung over him like a dark, looming storm cloud ready to burst and drown him in misery. Because that was all that awaited him—misery and the end of his life.
Once he was married, he’d become nothing more than a broodmare, made to bear children until it killed him. He had seen it too many times—his own aunts either dying or fleeing the comforts of the Red Keep, just to escape that life. The same life he was now hurtling toward, with no way to stop.
In just a few months, his life would become a sorrowful tragedy he could not escape until death.
“–prince,” a familiar voice—one that didn’t belong to Septa Lyna—broke through his thoughts. “My prince, you know it is not polite to ignore people. Certainly not proper for a royal omega.”
Looking up, Daemon was met with the sight of his handmaiden, Ella, who was wearing a mock frown. Over her shoulder, Septa Lyna’s stern glare was fixed on him, making him avert his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, looking down in embarrassment.
“It’s alright, my prince,” she said with a bright smile that calmed his nerves a little. “I came here with someone who can cheer you up…” Her voice trailed off as she glanced toward the library door behind him.
Daemon followed her gaze, his mismatched eyes landing on the figure stepping inside. “Gael!” he exclaimed, leaping up from the wooden table and running to the other omega.
He threw himself into her arms, uncaring if he knocked her off balance. The petite girl laughed softly at his enthusiasm, returning the hug by wrapping her arms around his torso.
Gael was his grandparents’ youngest and last child, only a year older than him, and they had practically been raised together. Regardless of their real familial ties, Daemon had always seen her as a sister.
That was why he had been devastated when Queen Alysanne took her to Dragonstone after her presentation. Once she was confirmed as an omega, a flood of noble alphas began sniffing around—something the queen would not tolerate. That, along with the growing conflict between the royal couple over Saera, had finally convinced his grandmother to leave until his grandsire came to his senses. She only returned for important queenly matters.
Daemon hadn’t understood what difference it made for her to be in Dragonstone rather than King’s Landing. Alphas were everywhere, and they could go anywhere without consequence. Grand Maester Elysar had grown frustrated with his questions, telling him to stop asking about things children had no business discussing. Daemon had responded by biting him—hard—which earned him a slap across the mouth from his mother. Still, he thought it was worth it, just to see the incredulous look on Maester Elysar’s face.
“Daemon! It’s so nice to see you,” Gael said with a bright smile, her light violet eyes sparkling as she pulled back slightly to look at him.
“Are you back?” he asked hopefully. Gael had been the only one who hadn’t changed her treatment of him after his presentation. In the few times he had seen her over the last nine months, she had remained his only true friend.
“I believe so.” Her smile brightened slightly, her cheeks turning a pale pink. “Father finally gave in. He wanted Mother and me back in King’s Landing.”
So King Jaehaerys had finally agreed to double the guards for omegas in the Red Keep and send soldiers across the Narrow Sea to search for Saera—if he even meant it. Daemon was glad Gael had returned, though now he’d have to deal with double the guards and twice as many annoying alphas in armor, constantly hovering over him.
“My prince, sorry to interrupt,” Ella said, “but the cooks have prepared your midday meal, adjusted to your diet.”
“Right. Got to keep me fattened just enough to bear children, but not so much that I don’t fit into those ugly dresses,” he mumbled—just loud enough for Gael to hear, earning a quiet chuckle from her. “We can eat together? In my chambers, yes?” Daemon asked, linking their arms and looking at her for approval.
Gael smiled and gave him a small nod, which was all the encouragement he needed. Daemon eagerly pulled her along toward his chambers.
Once there, with their meals served, Daemon couldn’t stop talking long enough to take a bite. He complained about his older brother—how Viserys had tried to keep his distance, but had recently been spending more time with him, which made Daemon happy.
He let her in on a secret: Viserys had been sneaking him food he wasn’t supposed to have ever since he’d stopped avoiding him.
Another alpha he mentioned often was Otto Hightower, the Hand to her father. Daemon seemed particularly enamored with the way the man had begun treating him. It seemed Otto was the only person Daemon didn’t mind treating him differently. Gael noted how pleased he seemed with the attention of both alphas. Even though he spoke harshly of most others—calling them overbearing and annoying—Viserys and Otto were different. At least in his eyes.
It piqued her interest, to say the least. She wanted to ask more, but decided against it—for now. After their meal, they spent the rest of the day together, taking their lessons and hiding away in the library whenever Septa Lyna got distracted. Daemon’s complaints didn’t stop—not that it bothered her. He couldn’t stand embroidery and etiquette. He kept saying he just wanted to leave and train with the Kingsguards instead.
They were walking through the gardens after their lessons when the commander of the Kingsguard, Ser Harrold Westerling, announced the king’s summons to the throne room. On the way there, they were joined by various lords and ladies residing in the Red Keep, as well as the royal family.
The two omegas took their place to one side of the Iron Throne. Daemon quickly joined his parents, standing next to a red-faced Viserys who had clearly just come from training. He felt his mother circle her arms around his shoulders and pull him back toward her. She was trembling against his back, prompting him to look up at her—but she wouldn’t meet his gaze, and neither would his father.
Daemon frowned at their strange behavior. As the king began speaking, he let his eyes wander over his family. His uncle Aemon stood straight, his head held high, with a deep, almost angry expression on his face. His aunt Jocelyn stood beside him, her demeanor mirroring her husband’s, as if they had just received terrible news.
He would’ve continued scanning the room, had he not heard his name leave his grandsire’s mouth, echoing through the throne room.
“–who presented as an omega. And with that, it gives me great pleasure to announce my youngest grandson’s engagement to Lord Yobert Royce’s eldest alpha daughter and heir of Runestone, Rhea Royce.”
It didn’t register at first. His grandsire had just announced his betrothal—without informing him beforehand. His future had been decided without his knowledge, without his input or opinion. Because his opinion didn’t matter. He was a young omega, newly presented, and not to be trusted with decisions about his future.
The shock pushed Daemon so deep into his mind that he didn’t even hear his brother’s protests or see his outburst. He didn’t notice when the court was ushered out of the throne room, or when they were left alone with the Royces—Viserys’s protests still echoing. He didn’t even notice Gael hugging him, holding him close as he stood frozen.
He wondered if the wedding would be soon, or if they would wait until his five-and-ten name day in a month. Would he have to wear a dress? Would he have to consummate the marriage that very night? Would they follow the traditional mating ceremony, with witnesses? Or was that no longer practiced? He couldn’t recall.
Was he required to get pregnant the first time? What if he didn’t? Was his future wife kind? Would she allow him to continue seeing his family? He knew he’d have to live at Runestone Castle in the Vale, but maybe, if she was kind, he could come and go as he pleased… or maybe that was just wishful thinking.
His head started to ache from the flood of thoughts. He couldn’t think straight. He didn’t know what to do or say. His family’s shouts sounded far away. He felt as if he were underwater, watching everything unfold without being able to stop it. He was drowning—and he didn’t know how to swim.
His omega instincts screamed at him to speak, to declare he had already chosen an alpha—but his voice caught in his throat. He could not speak. Could not protest. When it mattered most, he had frozen.
And it finally dawned on him. He was only an omega—soft, weak, and helpless. Unable to speak for himself, even when his future was being carved out before him. All he could do was stand there, waiting for the alphas to stop arguing about his life and to settle on a decision that he would follow without protest.
At last, he understood his place. No matter how hard his mother or Viserys had tried to shield him, the truth was undeniable: he would have to fulfill his role. He would marry, tend to his alpha, and bear her children until he couldn’t anymore—until he died on a birthing bed, like so many omegas before him, and like many more after.
His fate had been sealed from the moment he was born. The gods had simply allowed him a few years of freedom. Today, his life ended. And all he could do was stand by and watch.
