Aerion and Valarr were two omega princes bound to different alphas. Aerion to his drunk and useless alpha brother Daeron, while Valarr to a mean and savage Tyroshi alpha in a cold political marriage.
In a world that gave them nothing and took everything, they found a quiet, desperate peace in each other. For years, they held on and never let go, until the world finally forced them to.
pairings: aerion/valarr, aerion/daeron
rating: explicit
status: ongoing
general tags: omega aerion targaryen, omega valarr targaryen, alpha daeron targaryen, targcest, smut, anal sex, angst, mpreg, infidelity, other additional tags to be added
Aerion clawed his way out from the depths of a dream, the sound of his name pulling him back to the surface. He gasped, opening his eyes, heart hammering against his ribs, and found someone leaning over him. He found himself staring into a pair of pretty mismatched eyes. In the pale morning light, he realized it was Valarr.
"Itâs okay, youâre okay," Valarr was saying, his voice soft. He reached out, his touch careful and calm. "It was just a nightmare.â
As Valarrâs hand caressed his cheek, his touch gentle against Aerionâs skin, it wasn't a nightmare, Aerion wanted to say. He was burning bright against the endless sky. He had been free.Â
It wasn't a nightmare. It was a dream, and waking up was the only part that hurt.
Aerion closed his eyes again, drawing in a deep, trembling breath as he leaned into Valarrâs palm. The cool skin of his cousinâs hand was a mercy against Aerionâs burning skin. With a low sigh, he let himself go, sinking back into the pillows of his nest. As he went limp, a wave of exhaustion hit him, and he realized with a dull throb that every muscle in his body ached. The heat was already heavy, but he must have spent the entire night tensed, his body fighting to stay in that sky where he was free.
And Valarr didn't pull away. His fingers moved with a steady grace, combing through the sweat-dampened strands of hair clinging to Aerionâs forehead. He brushed them back gently, his thumb continuing to trace the curve of Aerionâs cheek, over and over, as if trying to soothe the very memory of the night from his skin.
âYou are burning,â Valarr said, his voice laced with a quiet, uneasy worry. His palm cupped Aerionâs cheek fully now, his thumb resting against Aerionâs temple.
Aerion swallowed hard, his throat feeling like dry parchment. He forced his eyes open again, meeting the mismatched ones. Valarr looked afraid for him and Aerion wasnât used to that.
âIâm in heat,â Aerion whispered.
The words were true, just not the whole truth.
The fever always came like this after the dreams. Fire falling from the sky, burning through the dark. Heat so bright it swallowed everything. When he woke, it never left him completely. It stayed in his blood, turning his skin into a furnace and his bones aching. It had been the same ritual for a few years now. Only his mother and Daeron had ever seen him like this. They were the only ones who had held him through the tremors and waited until the fever broke.
âI know, but...â Valarr hesitated, his fingers trembling slightly against Aerionâs temple. âYou are too hot, Aerion. Even for an omega in heat,â he murmured quietly. âYouâre scaring me.â
Aerion said nothing. He didnât have the strength for reassurances, and truthfully, he didnât have the desire either.
Valarrâs eyes darted around the room, taking a deep breath. And then his gaze snapped back to Aerionâs face, his brow furrowing. âWhere is Daeron?â
Aerion let out a short, ragged laugh. It scraped painfully up his throat. âBeats me,â he rasped, the bitterness of the words coating his tongue. He leaned more fully into Valarrâs touch. The coolness of his cousinâs skin was a fragile kind of relief, like shade after walking too long beneath a merciless sun.
Valarr let him, his pretty eyes never leaving Aerionâs face. Then he bit his lower lip, a flicker of hesitation crossing his features before he spoke again, âCan I get in too?âÂ
Aerion looked up at him through heavy lids. At first, he didnât understand what Valarr was asking. But as the meaning settled, the request felt like a gift. After a night of being dropped and left alone by an alpha who shouldâve held him and never let go, Valarr was offering to stay.
But Aerion was naked beneath the heavy covers, his skin still damp and sticky with the heat. The silks and pillows were ruined, stained with his slick and the lingering scent of Daeron, the bitter musk of an alphaâs seeds dried on Aerionâs thighs. Valarr was already close enough to smell it all.
And they hadn't shared a nest since they were pups, since the days when they had tumbled together into piles of soft wool and blankets of their family nests, before the world had divided them into omegas and assigned them to alphas.Â
A mated omegaâs nest was a sovereign, lonely altar. A place that belonged only to the omega and the alpha who claimed them. Yet, Aerion had dreamt of this moment before. He had imagined Valarr here, safe within his reach. He had craved the chance to bury his nose in the sweet scent of a pregnant omega since the day he heard that Valarr was with a pup.Â
With a shaky hand, Aerion reached out and hooked his fingers into the sleeve of Valarrâs robe, tugging him weakly forward. It was the only answer he had the strength to give. And Valarr went willingly, a fond smile softening his face.
Aerion shifted, sliding across the silks to make space for him, and the moment Valarr slipped into the nest, Aerion wrapped his arms around his waist and pulled him close. He buried his nose into the crook of the other omegaâs neck, breathing him in.
Valarrâs breath hitched for a moment, but he held Aerion just as tightly. He folded himself around Aerion and his fingers slipped into Aerionâs sweat-damp hair, carding through it gently. He leaned his head down, pressing his face against the crown of Aerionâs head and taking a deep, searching breath, as if he wanted to take in the scent again and again.
Aerion pressed his face into the hollow of Valarrâs neck, pushing his nose against the sensitive skin just as he had done with Daeron the night before. But where Daeron had been a hollow void of drunken silence, Valarr was a surrender.
Aerion felt the shift in Valarr, his body going soft and pliant as he tilted his head back, exposing the vulnerable line of his neck, offering himself up. He let Aerion breathe in the sweetness of his scent. Let him nuzzle closer, seeking more. He let himself be scented.
When Aerion finally settled there, now just breathing each other in, calm and silent, the world felt smaller, safer. The fire in his blood hadn't vanished, but it was no longer a riot.
"You were late," Aerion murmured against the skin of Valarrâs neck.
He was heavy with the haze of his heat for a few days now but he knew Valarr had been meant to arrive at least a day earlier.
Valarr hummed softly, pulling Aerion a little closer. âThey said there was trouble on the kingsroad,â he whispered, his breath warm against Aerionâs hair. "We were forced to stay an extra day at an inn.â
Aerion let out a soft hum too. His hands, still trembling slightly from the lingering fever, slid down to Valarrâs belly, resting gently over the cloth covering it. âHowâs the pup?â he asked quietly.
Valarr shifted slightly beneath his touch. âFine, I guess,â Valarr answered, his voice soft and fond. âI canât really feel much yet. Thereâs some morning sickness sometimes, but other than that, I donât really feel like Iâm carrying a pup yet.â
Aerionâs thumb traced a small, slow circle over the fabric. There were so many questions he wanted to ask.Â
He wanted to ask how Valarr was faring in his own marriage, and if his alpha treated him with the kindness he deserved. He wanted to know why they had been informed only of Valarrâs arrival and not his alphaâs, why the man hadnât come with him, and whether he would come at all. If not, why?
But Aerion held his tongue. To ask those questions would be to pull the curtains open and let the harsh, cold light of their reality back into the room. So he just kept breathing him in, his thumb slowly caressing the curve of the omegaâs belly.
After a few moments of quiet, Valarr spoke again. âYou can touch,â he said softly. Then he added, almost shyly, âI mean⌠if you want.â
Aerion brushed his nose against the sensitive skin of Valarrâs neck, a small, weary smile tugging at his lips. He could hear the truth in Valarr's voice, and he realized his cousin was also starving, too. Valarr needed to be touched just as desperately as Aerion needed to hold on.
Aerion hummed softly in answer, a gentle sound of agreement, before hooking his fingers under the hem of the soft tunic. He slid his palm upward, careful and unhurried. His hand slowly found the small bump of Valarrâs belly, barely more than a gentle curve, but the warmth of his skin seeped into Aerion instantly. His breath caught softly as his thumb began to move almost on its own, tracing slow, reverent circles against the bare skin now.
A soft purr rose from Valarrâs chest and the sound vibrated warmly where Aerionâs face rested against his neck, low and instinctive, the kind of contented noise that only came when an omega felt safe.Â
Aerionâs smile deepened against Valarrâs skin. Encouraged, he let his hand move more freely, rubbing gentle strokes over the small curve of the omegaâs belly, slow and soothing. And Valarrâs purr only grew steadier beneath Aerionâs touch, filling the quiet room with a soft, rumbling warmth.
The sound wrapped around Aerion like a blanket. The fever still burned in his bones, but it no longer felt sharp and lonely. Here, pressed close to Valarr, breathing in the sweet warmth of his scent, the fire finally began to ease. The tension drained from his body, his movements slowed until his hand simply rested over the little bump, thumb occasionally brushing absentmindedly across the skin.
With Valarrâs purring a steady rhythm beneath his ear, Aerion drifted toward sleep, his nose buried against the older omegaâs neck, his arm loosely wrapped around him, palm still warm over the small life growing beneath it.
Aerion had been alone since the moment he woke, writhing restlessly within his nest. The cramps in his belly were so sharp that even the thought of food felt like ash in his mouth. As the fever spiked, his temper grew shorter, his hunger for touch deepened, and every breath he drew was heavy with a need that bordered on madness.Â
Yet Daeronâs side of the bed remained cold. He was nowhere to be found. He had been gone since last night, and he had remained absent all morning all day, leaving Aerion to spiral.
Aerion had spent the hours terrorizing the servants and spitting Daeronâs name like a curse into the empty air. But Daeron was still gone, and the emptiness was starting to scream back.
He cried on his fingers, but it wasn't enough. It was never enough. Not without a real touch, not without that grounding scent to anchor his drifting mind.
He hated it. He hated that he was bound to an alpha for relief. He hated that his alpha was useless. He hated everything as he tried to ride his own fingers, slick and wet, but the relief wouldn't break. There was no relief in the friction, only the burning reminder that he was alone.Â
He finally gave out, dropping face down into the wreckage of his nest. With four fingers still buried deep inside him, a desperate attempt to fake a knot, he rubbed his cock against the bedsheets. But relief just wouldn't come.
His thoughts helplessly drifted to Valarr.Â
His omega cousin should have been here by now. He was pregnant, and he was meant to spend his pregnancy here, at Summerhall. He was supposed to be here already, but he wasnât. Aerion didnât know why. He wanted to ask but he couldnât find the strength to call for someone or even whisper.
If Valarr were here, Aerion could have pulled him into his nest, buried his nose in the pregnant omegaâs sweet scent, and found some measure of relief.
But Valarr wasnât here. Daeron wasn't here. Even his father and mother were gone from the castleânot that Aerion would have sought comfort from his father.
But the silence was deafening. He was utterly, miserably alone.
After the servantsâ persistent pleading, Aerion finally forced a few bites down, though the food tasted like nothing. He took a cold bath to numb the fever, but the relief was fleeting. By the time he crawled back into his nest, the cramps were already clawing again, leaving him curled up and miserable.
He was still trembling, lost in the haze and the fever, when the door finally swung open.
It was Daeron, wearing the black robe he wore whenever he sneaked out of the castle alone to haunt the taverns of the city.
When Daeron wrinkled his nose with a disgusted âUgh,â stepping further into the room to toss his robe carelessly over a chair, Aerion wanted to scream. He wanted to lash out again, to Daeronâs face this time, like he did many times, but he had no strength left. Instead, he drew a ragged breath and hissed, âCome here and make yourself useful.â
But Daeron didn't move toward the bed. He just collapsed there, onto one of the couches, and Aerion watched as the blonde waves spilled over the headrest.Â
âDaeron,â Aerion whined helplessly, the sound thin and broken in the quiet room. He was practically weeping the name, a plea for the alpha to look at him, hoping that even an alpha as useless as Daeron couldn't resist an omega in heat, crying out in such distress. But Daeron didn't even flinch. He remained slumped on the couch, eyes likely closed, offering no reaction at all. The name hung in the air, unanswered and pathetic.
âDamn you,â Aerion murmured as he forced himself out of his nest. His legs trembled, nearly buckling beneath the weight of his fever, but he didnât stop until he reached the couch. With the last of his strength, he dropped himself into Daeronâs lap, straddling his thighs with a force that knocked the air out of the alpha.Â
Daeron stiffened beneath him, letting out a sharp breath as his eyes snapped open, rimmed red and wet with wine. For a long moment, he only stared up at Aerion, his gaze unfocused and dazed. Aerion didnât even know how he had found his way back to the castle in that state. The reek of the taverns clung to him, clashing violently with the sweet scent and heat radiating from Aerion.
Aerion didn't move at first, didnât say anything. He sat there, trembling on Daeronâs lap, his fingers digging into the heavy, dark fabric of his tunic. He waited. He waited for a hand to close around him, for teeth bared in irritation, for rejection. A touch, or a snarl, or even a push. Anything. Anything to acknowledge that he wasn't alone.
âIâm tired, Aerion,â was all Daeron said. He closed his eyes again, head falling back against the headrest as if even this much acknowledgment weighed too heavily on him. Aerion let out a dry laugh, sliding further up Daeronâs lap until his forehead hit the alphaâs collarbone.
Tired? He was tired?Â
Aerion was the one who was truly tired. This was only his third heat, he was only ten and six, yet the exhaustion felt decades old.Â
He was tired of unending demands of his own body. He was tired of having Daeron as an alpha. He was tired of being Daeronâs omega. He was tired of being an omega.Â
Aerion began nuzzling into the alphaâs neck, his nose brushing the skin as he searched for even the faintest trace of comfort. And finally, he felt Daeronâs hand lift, his palm cupping the side of his neck. A touch Aerion had been starving for.Â
But it wasnât an embrace.Â
âI said Iâm tired,â Daeron repeated, his voice warning.
Aerion didnât care. He couldn't. He pressed forward anyway, ignoring the rejection, his fingers curling into Daeronâs neck as he pulled himself closer, nuzzling harder, desperately trying to scent him.
âAerion,â Daeron said again, his voice dropping low, vibrating against Aerionâs chest.Â
âI donât care,â Aerion breathed, the words breaking against Daeronâs skin, thick with tears he refused to let fall. âYou shouldâve been here,â he whispered, moving his hips, a desperate grind against Daeronâs clothed cock. The sudden friction forced an involuntary, sharp gasp out of the alpha.Â
Aerion didn't stop. He held Daeronâs neck tighter, anchoring himself. He wanted the heat to burn them both. He wanted Daeron to feel the same suffocating need that had been tearing Aerion apart in the silence of his empty nest.
Daeron let out a groan as Aerion pressed against him again. Beneath the layers of their clothes, Aerion felt his alpha hardening, his body betraying his tired words. Wine or no, denial or not, no alpha could resist the pull of an omega in heat; Aerion knew. The slick from his hole and the constant leaking from his own cock were soaking through Daeronâs clothes, marking him with the heavy scent of a desperate omega.
And then finally, Daeronâs hands moved. His fingers closed hard at Aerionâs waist, not gentle, not kind, but solid and real, pinning his hips in place for a split second before taking control of the rhythm instead. He began to guide Aerionâs hips, forcing a harder and more punishing grind.
The rough fabric of the tunic chafed against Aerionâs bare skin, but the sting was a welcome distraction from the ache inside him. He leaned in more, burying his face in the crook of alphaâs neck, breath shaking as his teeth brushed the alphaâs scent glands. The small nip drew another groan from Daeron and Aerion felt seen, felt answered.
Aerion reached between them, fingers clumsy and shaking as he tugged at the fastenings of alphaâs breeches. Daeron let out another groan, but he finally yielded, lifting his hips just enough to shove the fabric down until his cock snapped free, hot and pulsing where Aerion pressed close.Â
Aerionâs palm slid over the heat of Daeronâs cock, his fingers curling around the thick length of it. He began to stroke him with a desperate, shaky rhythm that tore a sharp breath from the alphaâs chest. He didnât look up. Instead, he buried his face deeper into the crook of Daeronâs neck, hiding there. He didnât want to see Daeronâs eyes, didnât want the distance, the dullness, the reminder that this hunger was not equally shared. Because he knew Daeron would prefer to swim in the haze of wine instead of this heat.
With a broken whimper, Aerion began to lift himself. He rose slowly on his knees, hovering over Daeronâs lap while his slippery fingers with his own slick guided the alphaâs cock to the entrance of his hole. He was already stretched from his own frantic fingers, his body weeping and open, desperate to be filled. He lowered himself, the thick head of alphaâs cock stretching him open, forcing a choked sob from his throat as he finally, finally took the alpha inside.
Daeron didnât wait for him to adjust to the fullness. His hands squeezed Aerionâs waist, his fingers digging into the skin as he took over, guiding Aerionâs hips in a relentless rhythm. Aerion let out a high, broken whimper, a sound of both ruin and relief, as he surrendered to the alphaâs grip. He began to ride him, lifting himself in a slow rise only to slam back down, driving the alphaâs cock deeper into him, catching that sweet spot inside over and over again.
The silence of the room was gone, replaced by the wet slap of slick against skin and the harmony of Aerionâs whimpers meeting Daeronâs low groans.
Aerion could feel himself getting close, so close without even touching himself. He moved faster, harder. He leaned in, his lips brushing against Daeronâs ear as he clung to the alphaâs neck, his fingers digging in with a bruising grip. "Knot me," he panted, begging. "Knot me, alpha."
Aerion knew he couldnât. Daeron rarely could. Especially not when he isnât in his rut. But the heat made Aerion a fool, stripping away his pride until only the aching need remained.
"Please," he begged again, the word breaking into a sob against Daeronâs neck. He knew it was in vain, yet he couldn't stop the plea from spilling out. He clung to the alpha tighter, his body shaking with the effort of riding him, his hips moving frantically. âPleaseâ Daeron, please.â
Daeron let out one final, strained groan, his head snapping back as he bared his throat and Aerion felt the sudden heat of the alphaâs seeds flooding into him, a thick and pulsing release that made his own body to shudder and clench around alphaâs cock, a desperate attempt to hold onto every drop.Â
He waited, breathless and trembling, taking Daeronâs last thrusts with a heart hammering against his ribs, his breath hitched in his throat, but the stretch never came. No knot tugged at his rim; there was no lock to anchor them together, no claim to silence the screaming void of his heat.
As soon as the last of it spilled inside, Daeronâs hips went still too. The grip on Aerionâs waist loosened, his hands sliding away as if the effort had finally drained him. He slumped back, leaving Aerion perched there, half satisfied.
But Aerion didnât let him rest. He ground his hips down, fucking himself on the alphaâs softening, sensitive cock, the friction forcing a jagged gasp from Daeronâs throat. "Aerion," he groaned, his voice hitching into something that sounded almost like a whine.Â
Daeronâs grip tightened on Aerionâs waist again but Aerion didn't stop. He pushed himself further, grinding his leaking cock against the alphaâs clothed stomach. He was panting, a frantic sound in the quiet room, his body trembling as he chased the release that Daeron had failed to bring him.
Aerion felt the alphaâs seeds overfill him, slicking his thighs as they leaked away, and he finally broke. A sob ripped from his throat as his body finally gave in, his own release spilling messy over Daeronâs already ruined clothes. He slumped forward, his forehead resting against the alphaâs bared throat as he trembled.Â
It wasn't enough. Not without a knot. But he knew it would have to be.
They stayed like that for a long moment, their breaths tangling as they panted and rested in the heavy silence. But then, Daeronâs hands clamped onto Aerionâs hips once more. He didn't just move him, he heaved Aerion off with a clumsy force, shoving him onto the cold side of the couch. "Fuck you," he hissed, his voice cracking with a trembling sound that sat somewhere between a snarl and a sob.
Aerion didn't answer back. He pressed his thighs together, trying to trap what little warmth remained, and pulled his knees tightly to his chest. Curling into a ball, he wrapped his arms around himself and kept his eyes shut, refusing to look at Daeronâs face.
It had to be enough. It was never enough, but it had to be.
Moments later, as exhaustion finally dragged him under, he felt the ghost of a pair of arms lifting him. He was carried through the quiet dark and gently dropped back into his nest. Alone again, with only the cooling weight of the alphaâs seeds between his legs to keep him company this time.
