So Aerion has always been an alpha, always saw himself as an alpha, better than his older brother (though in his mind he still, paradoxically, believes that no one can truly be better than Daeron, it’s complicated, pride is complicated)
And so he gets mad and he throws tantrums and he does what he does and gets in trouble.
Indeed, Aerion makes Maekar’s days all the more interesting.
The thing is, obviously no one expected it to happen. Who meets their fated pair so casually? There was nothing casual about it, of course. Aerion was breaking some girl’s fingers.
And then he was getting the shit beaten out of him, some huge fucking guy pinning him to the ground and making Aerion’s alpha instincts flare in displeasure at the fact that he was the one being pinned.
By the time the two of them realized what the fuck was happening, it was already too late.
They were fucking right there, on the ground, guards awkwardly shuffling to the side, Tanselle crying because Bitch, what the fuck—
But Aerion and Dunk don’t seem to give a shit.
In the written history of House Targaryen, there have been mated pairs consisting of only alphas. To be brought forward is the example of Rhaenyra and Daemon, niece and uncle respectively. To go back to a beginning, one might also mention the three headed dragon, but things had been much complicated then and no fate had been involved.
As for public bondings, they are not unheard of either, though much rarer.
The case of Aerion Targaryen and Duncan the Tall follows the pattern. An unexplainable pull, one that manifests differently for every fated pair, but one that inevitably ends in a bonding.
It’s dirty and all-consuming, and Aerion is crying, silvery tears down his reddened cheeks because it hurts. It hurts so much. His body was not meant to take this. It was not meant to receive another alpha. And yet— and yet it feels like everything that has ever been missing was all for naught, and he doesn’t feel empty anymore, he doesn’t feel alone he doesn’t, he doesn’t— It feels good.
It hurts and it feels immensely good.
There is blood and Aerion’s hole is torn and Dunk whimpers because he is confused as to why he cannot stop. And he is hurting his… his mate.
It’s frantic like a need, like an incessant crave to have, to own, to gnaw, to fill—
By the end of it they have matching bite marks over their mating glands, and Aerion is unconscious because the strain was too much. Dunk sees double, he is dizzy with the exertion, with the scent of his fated pair, with the smell of blood and the unquestionable truth that he—he had— oh Gods, he had raped his mate.
Because the universe decided they were fated.
Dunk is terrified of himself — horrified of what he had done. And he pulls at Aerion’s body, pulls the unconscious man to his chest, the man that he had so hated an infinite time ago. He caresses the other alpha’s light hair. Tears pool in his eyes, his breath frantic because his mate won’t wake up.
The guards don’t even have to fight Dunk. He is no longer a feral, uncontrollable beast. No longer that thing he swore he hated about the alphas he’d seen all throughout his life. Instead he does not need convincing to let Aerion go, numb, like there is an overwhelming something separating Dunk from the world. His instincts try to rise, try to fight against the men taking away his mate, but Dunk pushes them down, the guilt and the disgust at himself push his instincts down.
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