I read a comment on tiktok about how bloodymary is this generation’s Jack and Elsa, and tbh I was really new to fandoms when jelsa was first introduced, so I’m really happy to officially experience a crossover ship like this 🥹
Me: My dude have you ever been shitfaced in medieval Bohemia and fought a groom at a wedding you aren’t technically invited to while your twink boyfriend who’s mad at you cheers you on from the sidelines all while tavern bops are playing in the background bro LET ME HAVE FUN
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Pairing: Ser Duncan the Tall x Aerion Brightflame
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Summary: 「 King Baelor is alive and well, and the realm is at peace. Aerion and Dunk reunite more than 20 years after the trial of seven, but Aerion has become a jaded omega, unclaimed, untouched, unwanted, and has been told that by the age of 40, he will become infertile, thus rendering him useless to the Targaryen family. But when he reaches his 39th year, a certain knight comes back into his life to take on the role of his new bodyguard. 」
.𖥔 ݁ ˖ Tags: omegaverse, aged-up characters, angst and comfort, explicit sexual content
Status: Ongoing
Ao3 link
ׂ ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚. ⋆༺𓆩⚔𓆪༻⋆ ׂ ͎. ｡˚ ° ⊹ ˚.
“You are cursed with dragons, Ser Duncan.” Daeron had said to him one early morning in the palace courtyard, “In my dreams they plague you more than anyone I’ve known or seen.”
Dunk hadn’t known what to say to that. Never really knew what to say to Daeron, ever. The man was difficult to understand when speaking of his dreams. Egg knew never to dwell on conversations about them, but sometimes the elder brother couldn’t help himself.
“That is true, m’lord.” Dunk had responded, knowing well his whole life had revolved around their presence. Even after refusing a place in the kingsguard to stay at Egg’s side, Dunk had never really left their grasp, especially not after his old squire had gone and married.
Daeron looked at him through a veil of that beautiful Targaryen hair, not so drunk on alcohol but on a lack of sleep. Despite getting older, the man still looked as when Dunk had first met him. The dreams had taken a toll on his younger mind, but now it seemed his wiser years had saved him just a little. “I dreamt again, of a dragon at your side, much like the one 20 years ago.”
At that, Dunk’s heart sank.
The man continued, “A red dragon, small and weak, was lying beside you in a garden of flowers. It looks like it cannot live without your aid.”
Dunk hadn’t realized he’d frozen in that moment. The tangle of nerves in his stomach tightened, making him feel anxious yet again, just like it had back then. “Will it die?” He asked Daeron.
Daeron had looked away, eyes unfocused on something only he could see. Dunk always wondered just what it was he saw, and how terrifying it must be. “The great big dragon I’d told you about lived, but this small red one only lives if you let it.” He told Dunk, “I am not sure who this red dragon is, but it calls to you and only you.”
The dragon he spoke of did not sound like anyone Dunk had ever known. The Targaryens he’d met were all strong-willed and powerful, and he'd seen that even when Egg had just been a boy.
It reminded him of the story Ser Arlan had told him long ago, of the last dragon. The old man had mentioned seeing the poor creature and her five eggs, hard as stone, unhatched, their mother sickly but still so very beautiful and determined to keep her eggs safe.
Dunk had never liked hearing that story from Ser Arlan. It saddened him to think of any animal suffering, but to see an entire species go extinct made him sick to his stomach. That, it seemed, was the only common thing he shared with those who had the blood of the dragon.
“Then I must find this dragon, and do my best to save it from death.” Dunk had said determinedly.
Daeron looked ever wistful, but hopeful nonetheless. “I beg you do, good knight.”
He’d adventured and followed his knightly duties for 20 years now, but for the second time a dragon in a dream had come to request his aid.
And Dunk would make sure it survived, even if that was the last thing he’d ever do. The family had done enough for him, so now it was time for him to pay them back.
____⋆✴︎˚｡⋆____
The waters from the cliffside where Aerion stood glimmered as the Summer sun showered beams of golden yellow light onto the surface, twinkling as the waves crashed against the rocks where he stood high on the edge of it all, letting the wind run through his hair, cut short as always but still gleaming silver and gold.
He breathed in the saltiness of it all, letting the strength of that wind pull him away from the edge, but his feet remained planted in the green earth, eyes closed for only a moment to take in the environment, but opening to stare out at the majesty Lys had offered him.
Aerion lifted a hand up to cover his gaze from the blazing sunlight, and relished in the warmth of it. He had left the tall walls of Lys to escape, for a moment, in order to breathe in the freedom nature gave. There was hardly ever a soul out there, with the Lysene people choosing the pleasure gardens and pillow houses.
This was Aerion’s escape. A place where the elements could provide him company.
And he’d needed it. His brothers had become strangers to him, and Aerion only ever had the company of the kingsguard whenever they were at Lys for work with his father and uncle. Most of the time, Aerion kept to his chambers, or to the gardens where the servants would give him privacy on his walks. If he felt daring, he’d go to the sea like he was now.
His exile had been abrupt and hurried after that event at Ashford, and ever since it seemed his family had been more than happy to forget about his existence. Even when his father had sent him a mate, Aerion hadn’t produced, which had led to an isolation that felt almost eternal. He was of no use to them anymore, not with what the maesters had said to him and his father during their last visit.
‘Soon, you will no longer have the potential to carry.’
An isolated omega amid many alpha siblings, doomed to sit in his shame, from a golden cage far from anyone. His heats had been suppressed successfully for just as long as well, with the help of the flower he grew in his garden, white nerium. Toxic but handy, though they gave him migraines that would last days after use. Better than tolerating a heat he couldn’t suppress.
And of course he’d been touched before, but never penetrated. That had been well over ten years now. He could remember it vividly, the night of his wedding, when his betrothed had drank himself to sleep, and at dawn rode to some bloody battle just to be killed within the day, leaving Aerion unmarked and without a swollen belly, no heirs to produce for his father.
That was what the servants whispered, of his husband who had been too frightened to fuck the dragon Brightflame, and that the dragon’s fire hadn’t been strong enough to induce a heat.
Well, it was all true.
He was nothing but embers now, according to the family maesters. Even if his true mate existed, Aerion would continue to have his heats but could never produce, at least not after this year. His family said it had come down upon them all like a curse after the last dragon had died. Aerion believed them.
As he thought of this, he reached into his pocket where he’d stuffed a letter from his uncle. The letter was crumpled, a result from his earlier angry outburst, but he carefully straightened it out to reread the words that’d made him want to visit the sea in the first place.
It had not been an invitation back, but a letter of pity. Since Aerion would no longer be fertile, the king would send a new knight to watch over him. He was still useful enough to have a knight by his side, but that only meant his uncle was concerned when it came to other matters. Aerion was still a Targaryen, and that meant there were still dangers he could face.
But Aerion hadn’t wanted his peace to be disrupted by a stranger. He’d grown used to the loneliness, to the silence of the once flickering flames that had burned beneath his skin. It was all embers now, and the anger he once felt, the madness of it all, had dissipated with his disappointment he had in his family. There had been signs, but with age it was clear he was over the embarrassment of what they had brought with the death of their dragons.
He’d accepted it. Or so he thought—
Aerion ripped the letter into small pieces, watching as the scraps of it fell into the restless ocean below. He was afraid that not even the cold waters of Lys would be able to quell the fire he still had, no matter how small it had become.
____⋆✴︎˚｡⋆____
Dunk had never been to Lys. It was beautiful, sure, but it reminded him of the little opulence he’d left behind. The difference in class was jarring, and if he’d told the boy that had lived in Flea Bottom all those years ago that he would go to Lys to serve one of the Targaryen princelings, Dunk would have never believed it.
But there he was now, staring up at the pristine villa that overlooked a nearby river that spilled into the sea, with a garden far off from his view, and the great blue ocean dominating the horizon, most likely better seen from the second story. A large orange tree hung over the exterior, draping everything in a pleasant shade. The villa overall was well-hidden, in a corner of Lys where life felt quieter, though equally as grand.
Dunk knew he must have looked out of place, with the royal livery Egg had given him in his employment to the young lad. And Dunk had kept it, despite orders to dress informally but prepared. He would only serve as a guard for the prince in a land where there would pose little to no danger. The king had ordered it, though it seemed more for the prince’s sake than Dunk’s. Dunk had not seen Aerion in well over 20 years, and in those 20 years he’d never forgotten the face of the cruel prince.
He feared the beauty of that man could rival that of the Gods, and his wickedness just as strong as his name, Brightflame. But that was all Dunk had ever remembered of him, considering their circumstances the last time they’d met when they had only been 16. He’d had no time to preoccupy himself with anything else. The hatred that they both had for one another was palpable, so extreme it had blurred most of anything during that trial.
The omega prince had been banished before Dunk could even leave the grounds of Ashford, and from then on he’d only heard gossip or whispers of the prince.
How he’d been abandoned by his betrothed, left to rot in the beauty of Lys, only to be forgotten by most in the realm, and assumed dead. It was what his family had wanted in the first place, and that was what Aerion had been given.
Egg had provided little detail on his most hated brother, and even felt pity upon their departure, knowing Dunk would have to spend a good amount of time by Aerion’s side. Though Dunk knew it wouldn't be long before a different knight would take his place, he was still wary of the potential problems this reunion could cause.
He could already feel it now as he ducked his head to walk into the open entrance of the villa, lifting only a silk veil out of the way to peer inside the home. The wood floors creaked beneath him as he scoured the room, hand instinctively over his sword, finger tracing the coin on the hilt as he always did when nervous.
The place was more barren than he’d imagined, with only the usual furnishings spread about, albeit the occasional sign of wealth in the form of golden goblets or silver pieces. To his right, doors opened onto a huge patio, left open to invite in the warm sun. Air travelled freely through the villa, with windows spilling in the fresh outdoors. It was more homely than he had presumed for someone like the prince, but he could not complain, not when this would be his abode for the next few months.
For a moment he allowed himself to breathe, to relax before the little dragon would come to meet him, if he ever did. Dunk was only there to watch over him, not to communicate with him on the daily. Though with how small the villa was, Dunk feared they would come across one another more times than the prince would care to have.
It reminded him of what Egg had said to him, his last words saying something along the lines of his brother losing his spark completely. To his brothers, it must have seemed that way, but Dunk had never thought the prince would lose it at all, and nor did he currently think it would be completely gone.
They had not battled him in that trial. Dunk would never forget that determination, and the blood that had been lost between them.
The way Dunk had sliced the prince’s leg nearly ended the man’s life. The maester’s had called it a femoral artery, and had Dunk swung his blade even higher, it would have killed the prince almost immediately.
Before that, Dunk had never dared to touch an omega in such a way, and he hadn’t ever since. Well, not violently, but for his own pleasure at times, though never managing to find the time to settle, to sink his teeth into a mate to claim them, and to build the family he’d promised Rafe he’d find in the future.
Well, the future was now, and Dunk had long ago given up that dream. Though he never regretted choosing the path of adventure, of service to his good friend and old squire, because it had led Egg to finding a family of his own. A brother not born of blood, but of bond, had achieved what Dunk had not, and Dunk was satisfied with that alone.
While reminiscing this, his eye caught onto a head of silver-gold hair that had entered the villa from the open patio.
Just the smell alone of the man that had entered made Dunk feel lightheaded, along with the familiar nerves that had his stomach feeling uneasy. Pink pepper and earthy iris reached his nose, melting his thoughts away, like he’d drunk one too many ales.
The prince, no longer a stripling but older, was still frighteningly as beautiful as the day Dunk had first seen him. The man approached him with a look of disinterest, wearing fine material that clung to his body in the way the Lysene people wore them, but Aerion just appeared more princely than any of them. A shawl hung around his shoulders, draping him in a layer of cream silk, almost the color of his hair.
His eyes, the same lilac color he’d seen last when they’d fought in the mud, gazed at him with less venom than Dunk had anticipated. Instead, there was a solemness behind his eyes.
Dunk noted how the purple in them masked whatever Aerion was trying to hide, but the beautiful omega could do little to shy away from the natural presence he emitted. This was a highborn man, an exiled prince . . .
“My lord father says I am to have you as my own personal knight,” That prince said. His voice had turned gentler, with less malice but still a tinge bitter.
Dunk willed himself not to bask in the rich scent the omega gave off. It had to have been one of the loveliest scents Dunk had ever come across. With the many people at Ashford, along with his father and brothers, as well as the putrid stench of hundreds of folk and animals, the scent of the prince had been muddled. But it was familiar to Dunk, though only in fragments of memories he would rather forget.
He composed himself, remembering his place, “M’lord, I'm here to provide you protection, and to serve in whatever way you’ll have me.”
The prince was quiet as he examined him. Dunk almost felt like he’d overstepped his boundaries, and regretted ever having come into the villa.
Instead, the prince responded coolly, “It has been quite a while, ser. How does my brother Aegon fair?”
________
Aerion waited for the knight to reply, amused at how nervous the large alpha looked, even after all of these years. Ser Duncan, looking surprised at his request to know about his brother’s wellbeing, replied politely, “M’lord, he is doing well now with his wife. A pup is on the way and should be with us in the Spring.”
Aerion’s heart grew heavy, and his eyes betrayed the sting at this news. The mention of a pup nearly revealing how envious he was of his younger brother yet again.
The tall man sensed the tension in the air shift, as any strong alpha would to an omega in distress. Duncan immediately bowed his head, expression regretful at his choice of words. Of course Duncan would know of the gossip. It made Aerion feel all the more embarrassed, ashamed at himself for not becoming what he’d sought out to do all those years ago.
“M’lord forgive me, I meant no harm, honest.” The kind knight said earnestly.
Well, at least someone was earnest.
Aerion waved him off, as nonchalantly as he had always done all his life. “Calm yourself, knight. I am able to handle my own trifles. You need not be preoccupied with them further.”
But Ser Duncan, the ever kind man, remained with a permanent face of doubt, lips downturned even as he bowed for the second time, eyes averted.
The man smelled of the earth and all it provided, but more so the scent of elderberries, like wine that made his head feel dizzy. It made him swallow down the thought of taking a sip of some stored sweet wine in his cellar, but he didn’t want to lose his sharpness in the presence of the hedge knight.
Duncan had grown taller, if that was even possible. The man could barely stand where they were, and could easily reach up to touch the ceiling. But where height grew, so did the mass of muscles on his chest, his arms, and his thighs, signs of hard work throughout the years.
Restless as always, and yet that kindness in his heart never changed despite everything else transforming over time. Aerion could see that same spark from over 20 years ago, the gleam of never-ending hope in the man’s large blue eyes. It was surprising, considering some of that was directed towards him, even though their history was tainted with nothing but blood and hate.
“Keep your head up, ser.” Aerion told him, “You’re here to protect me, after all.”
________
“Y-Yes m’lord,” Dunk had said, as he watched the prince walk away from him to lean against the doorway leading out onto the open porch.
The silk shawl swayed in the breeze as the prince looked out into the garden, arms crossed in a guarded manner. That small glimpse into his vulnerability had not lasted long, and it seemed to have hurt him more than he let on.
The young man Dunk had met at Ashford was still there, somewhere. But as he watched the prince’s back, tense and restrained, Dunk didn’t know what to think anymore. He had half a mind to wait for the prince to return and stick a blade into his side, like he had with that lance years ago, but Aerion stood with his back to him, silently taking in the quiet.
Dunk traced the outline of Aerion’s silhouette before excusing himself to go back to where he’d come from. He’d left his bags outside on the porch beneath the orange tree, which was where Dunk now let out a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding.
His prince didn’t so much as glance his way as he departed, but that was fine. That was most likely what their relationship would consist of for a while.
And Dunk, the lunk that he was, thick as a castle wall, had regretted ever bringing up Egg’s good news. He felt shattered at the slight change that cut through the sweet iris scent of Aerion, and even though they weren’t on the best of terms, Dunk had known he’d crossed a line.
He kicked the dirt below him, cursing at himself for it.
From now on he would be more civil, and he would think before speaking to the prince. He’d vowed to serve the dragons, and he would continue to keep his vows as a true knight.
His determination did not waver, not in the slightest. In fact, it seemed to him that it had grown stronger all the more upon his arrival. His resolve had increased tenfold, though he didn’t know why.
Dunk abandoned his spot beneath the tree to head in the direction of the seaside cliffs to take a walk, abandoning the smell of iris and pink pepper altogether, and to dispel the color of lilac from his mind.
He needed some fresh air, lest he betray his want to go back inside and selfishly take in the scent of the lonely prince.
idk what George put in akotsk but as a person who never really got into GOT or HOTD, I really love this story. I wasn’t super interested in getting to know about akotsk at all until I actually watched the trailer and became enamored with the idea that the story focuses on a knight that actually does some good in a world that I am quite aware is very ruthless.
I guess with real life being tough, akotsk really helped heal people’s hearts right now (including mine), and I’m so grateful for Ira Parker and GRRM for introducing it to more audiences through a television format. Because although I have been reading the novellas and absolutely loving them, the cast and crew of this show are just so incredible as well and I’m really grateful to them too.
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