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He remembers his feelings more than the sensation, the first time Valarr had kissed him. Surprise changing into bitter satisfaction at the heir not being as perfect as everybody believed him to, that there were an alpha's urges and needs slumbering beneath the polished veneer of this future king after all, that his cousin was on some level as human, as flawed, as Daeron was.
It had twisted into anger when he’d realized that even in this Valarr chose the sensible option, came to his broken omega cousin instead of risking scandal - or worse - with a minor noble or a whore.
Still he had returned the kiss, hand balled into a tight fist to keep himself from stupidly reaching out to pull Valarr closer. Valarr might have proven fallible with the kiss, proven that he indeed had a cock that wanted to be used, but between the two of them it is still, would always be, Daeron who is the more flawed one.
The kiss had been soft, gentle, so much unlike anything Daeron had been used to, he had almost felt like a naive maiden again, fawning and blushing at an innocent first kiss.
He couldn't stand it, had deepened the kiss, opened his mouth so their tongues could meet. Valarr had seemed slightly taken aback though when Daeron used his tongue and then looked almost panicked when Daeron had moved away and made to get on his knees for him.
“That is … don’t,” he had said as his hand had reached out to stop Daeron, voice a confusing mixture of proper sternness and barely concealed lust. Daeron had been used to the former, much less to the later and after a heartbeat, he got back up, shaking of Valarr’s hand from his shoulder in the process.
He could smell the want on Valarr, a heady thing that dulled the notes of Targaryen steel and blood on him and brought out Valarr’s own more subtle scent of wood and fruits. It had been confusing, smelling an alpha who wanted to fuck him but had not wanted Daeron’s mouth.
But then, Daeron had thought, it made sense. What alpha would choose a mouth over a different hole if available, especially one that was in no danger of bearing any bastards. There was a reason Valarr had come to him after all.
“My chambers then,” he said. “This night.” And without another look he had walked away. Had allowed himself the illusion of pride by not looking back, had destroyed that nonsensical pretense the moment he’d been out of view and his treacherous hand had strayed towards his mouth, the memory of Valarr’s lip still lingering there.
He had almost expected Valarr not to come. For sense to win out, for him to remember that while Daeron would not do him the disservice of bearing him unwanted children, he was still Daeron. Drinking, dreaming, disappointing Daeron. As much a failure of a prince as he was of an omega.
But Valarr had come that night. Valarr had opened his mouth as if to say something and Daeron had not wanted to hear the justification he had for being here. Daeron didn't need them. He knew what he was good for, little as it was.
So he had kissed away any objections Valarr might have seen fit to voice and then had pulled him towards his bed.
It had been their first time. It didn't stay the last. Soon Valarr had become an expected nightly visitor to Daeron’s chambers.
He is hesitant at first but still there is the calm self-assurance and willingness to conquer of an alpha and crown prince, nature and nurture overcoming some of the stumbling blocks. Perfect even at this, Daeron thinks bitterly as he moans and begs underneath Valarr’s cock and knot.
Faintly, vaguely, Daeron wonders how much - if any - experience Valarr truly had had before him, dismisses the thought as soon as it comes because it's one thing being his cousin’s bed warmer until an omega actually worthy of him comes along and something completely different sullying him like that.
Valarr had been far from Daeron’s first and it speaks of what a pathetic excuse of an omega he is that there never had even been the threat of any alpha trying to lay claim on him.
Royal blood could not outweigh a barren womb though Daeron supposes that he should be grateful for his defects as they allow him to at least have Valarr even if just briefly.
Still he twists away whenever Valarr’s mouth wanders too close over his neck because while Valarr might need to train for when he actually has something underneath him he wishes to mark as his, it hurts too much to aid him in this too.
The vision of teeth testing but not truly biting, of the way Valarr’s face might twist in disgust should he smell the shameful desperate want so close on Daeron, of how Valarr so far had kindly refrained from reacting to Daeron's scent, repulsing and repelling underneath the stink of wine, but might be unable to do so close to its source…
The thought of it alone is enough for Daeron to put a quick stop to any such excursions and Valarr -perfect, gallant, gentle Valarr- never pushes. It should make the fantasies go away. Should make the dreams -the normal ones, the ones that make him wake up shaking for different reasons than usual - vanish.
It doesn't obviously because Daeron is a fool who has never found a thing to want he could actually have except for wine.
Stupid, broken, useless Daeron. If he had managed to have a single measly heat, the way his damned body should be able to, it would be easier, he thinks. Not for him but for his family. They could find him some minor old alpha noble, somebody who already has heirs running around and isn't in dire need of more.
The alpha could take a slight raise in standing in exchange for taking the broken omega of his family's hand, the public could quietly blame the alpha's age on the lack of any children forthcoming and Daeron could slowly drink the rest of his mind away, being maybe called upon to be fucked every once in a while by his spouse between the drinking and the dreams.
But no, he can not even manage this much. His inability to go into heat even once is an open secret, both at court and outside of it and if there's one thing an omega cannot be forgiven for, it's being unable to fulfill the sole reason many people think they exist for.
His father had tried, had called upon maesters to aid Daeron once he had passed the age of where it had been expected of his body to start its first heat.
He had been given many types of potions and salves, each smelling worse than the last, but none of it had ever helped, none of it had stirred that fire inside Daeron that he should have been born with.
At last Daeron had overheard one of them telling his father that things like this happened. That it was rare but not unexpected.
Sometimes things don't work the way they are supposed to, the maester had said. Sometimes they were just broken. Daeron had run off before he could hear his father's reply.
Deep inside he had always known that he wasn't whole. That there was something wrong with him, something that could not be repaired. He had thought though it was his mind that was to blame, the dreams that had driven him to drink. Turns out it had been his body too the entire time.
Figures, Daeron had thought, shaky hands spilling wine all over himself as he desperately poured himself a cup. Figures. It wasn't only his mind that was broken. It was his body too.
There had been no more potions and salves after that. There had been more wine and uncaring alphas with cruel hands. Mostly though despair.
Now there is Valarr. Valarr in his chambers. Valarr outside of them. Valarr who beds him gently, who patiently works his mouth on him until he's slick enough to enter without any pain, who touches Daeron until he spills, pulling moans and whimpers out of Daeron he had not thought himself capable of.
He had tried to get him to be rougher, had tried to get Valarr to just bend him over a table and fuck into him until Daeron starts crying around his knot.
But Valarr is gentle. Valarr is gallant. Valarr is operating under the misapprehension that he needs to be nice to Daeron. He doesn't.
He'd come slinking back even if Valarr never bothered making sure Daeron too reached his climax, if he never gently stroked through Daeron’s hair afterwards, if one night he doesn’t tell him - voice heavy with want and need - that he looks so pretty around Valarr’s cock, that he takes his knot so well, that Daeron is so good for him.
“Perfect,” Valarr growls as his cock is driven deeper into Daeron, as he feels the knot starting to swell inside him. His scent like spring, fruit trees in full bloom, drowning out the smell of steel and blood he usually carries with him.
“You're perfect for me.” Daeron’s climax at those words catches him at surprise, as does the pure guttural sound coming from Valarr as he clinches around his knot, milking his cock desperately.
It’s practical, Daeron later thinks when they lie together in his bed, sweat cooling on their skin, Valarr’s knot tying them together, Valarr’s hand gently stroking through his hair, his scent a comforting cloud around Daeron.
Practical and sensible. No stuttering or trying to find the right words once Valarr is married, once he had found himself a perfect little omega he’d actually want to tell all of this to. Only Valarr would take the opportunity of a meaningless fuck and try to make himself into a better alpha.
Practical. Sensible. Cruel but that’s on him, that’s because Daeron cannot keep himself from wanting things he knows he cannot have.
Perfect, Valarr’s voice echoes in his head and for once, he almost longs for the dreams if only to forget everything he had felt during that moment.
He should have put a stop to it after this. Should have probably never done it in the first place but this has started a dull knife that Daeron sharpened and polished until it hurt, until every cut was deep enough to draw blood.
So obviously he doesn’t stop. Valarr keeps whispering nonsense into his ear when they fuck, Daeron fails to not cry when he’s alone in his bed afterwards.
It works fine enough. It breaks apart two weeks later.
“Here.” Daeron eyes the bracelet presented to him with confusion. It's a simple thing, a delicate silver band, no adornments except for a single purple gemstone, shimmering in the sunlight. It's not something Valarr would wear and the realization what it is hits him like a punch to the stomach.
Daeron straightens up, schools his expression into a featureless mask. “It will suffice,” he says, surprised his voice is steady, unshaken. “Just make sure they know to keep it hidden.”
He cannot bring himself to look at Valarr, walks off without another look instead. He tries to find some form of anger inside of him that this is how Valarr goes about ending what they are doing, by asking Daeron to help him with the courting gifts for another omega.
But he cannot find any anger in himself because he might be a fool but he isn’t an idiot. He had always known this little arrangement of theirs would come to an end once Valarr found someone - anybody - better and to a degree, this is kindness.
No need for explanations, no need to talk about what had happened. Valarr had found himself a new omega - pretty likely, fertile undoubtedly – and telling Daeron at all, even as subtle as he had done, that he had no need for Daeron’s body anymore, is more than is really needed.
He had been there to warm Valarr’s bed, for him to get his cock wet, to train how to treat a real omega. Fool who wants more. Fool who dreams of more.
Fool who cannot think of anything but the bracelet for the rest of the day. He drowns himself in wine, stops only because he needs to be able to walk still today.
Smiles sourly into his cup when he realizes that it's been many moons since anybody besides Valarr had fucked him. He had figured Valarr probably wouldn't appreciate the smell of another alpha on him.
Not because he’d care who touches him but Daeron had been told in the past that his scent is barely bearable as is and adding the smell of another alpha on top would likely do little to please Valarr.
But Valarr has found himself someone better to fuck so there is no need anymore to try and endear himself to him, as stupid as those attempts had been in the first place.
He still knows how to sneak out, still knows in which bars to find what he’s looking for. Gentle, gallant, good Valarr.
Anybody who isn’t that. He’s barely wet enough for the cock being shoved inside him, knows the alpha on top of him doesn’t care, welcomes that as much as the pain.
There are bruises afterwards, ugly purple things on his thighs, painful blue spots on his arms, deep red bites on his chest and walking hurts. He welcomes that too.
He doesn’t welcome the figure waiting inside his room when he enters. Valarr’s eyes immediately snap towards his untidy robe, showing off the marks there and his scent grows heavy.
The omega inside him, that useless foolish creature, freezes as it smells the anger coming of Valarr in waves. But it had betrayed Daeron enough times. So he ignores it, walks over to the table and reaches for the wine there.
Valarr’s hand stops him. Daeron stares at him. “If you do not wish to see me drink, I suggest you leave now,” he says. His voice is rough, throat used and abused during his trip into town.
Again he tries to reach for the wine pitcher and then suddenly there’s a flurry of movement and before he can do anything, Valarr is pressing him against the wall.
His mismatched eyes are blown, dark, oh so dark, and there’s a growl coming from him, wild and more angry than Daeron ever heard from him before.
Valarr presses his nose against him, sniffing at his neck before wandering down towards his chest, growl deepening when he sees the bite marks up close. Daeron feels a shudder running through him at the display.
Proper alpha behavior, he thinks, almost deliriously. A treacherous twitch comes from his body, the omega inside whining.
“If you want to fuck me, do it now, I want to get drunk,” Daeron forces out, head falling back against the wall.
“Why?” Valarr asks instead though, voice still mostly a growl and he stares at Daeron with such a fiery expression Daeron has to swallow.
“Why let yourself be fucked by some pathetic excuse of an alpha? Why come back like this? Why run away from me?”
Daeron blinks at him. “Why not,” he replies. “I wanted a knot. I found myself one.” Valarr’s eyes are wandering over Daeron’s face as if he is searching for something. Then he suddenly lets go of his grip on Daeron, stepping away from him.
“Am I not enough for you?” he says and the growl in his voice has vanished, turned into something soft, something sad instead, something that hurts. “I know I don’t have the … experience you have but I thought…”
“Thought that I’d refrain from fucking somebody else even now?” Daeron asks and there is actual anger now because Valarr cannot be asking this of him, cannot be asking Daeron to wait around in case his omega doesn’t want him.
Cannot because some part of Daeron, the pathetic, foolish broken part, would. Would hand Valarr this knife, so painstakingly sharpened, in an instant if Valarr asked him to.
“You get yours, I get mine,” he spits out, closing his eyes so Valarr cannot see that he is lying.
“I do not get what’s mine,” Valarr hisses. “What’s mine doesn’t go out and lets somebody have their way with him.”
Ah, Daeron thinks, trouble in paradise? So soon already? Maybe the bracelet had been less of a courting gift and more of a bribe. And Valarr waiting for him here now, him wanting a distraction, nothing more, and not getting it.
There’s some bitter satisfaction to be found in that thought.
“It’s not my fault if you’re not enough of an alpha to control your omega,” Daeron mumbles and then flinches at the blunt force of emotions coming off Valarr at that, at the smell of burning wood, of bloodied steel.
“What else then,” Valarr says, growls again and he cannot help the shudder running through his entire body at this. “What would you be willing to give me if you do not wish me to be your alpha?”
And then the fire rolling off him stops. The notes of his scent twist, become sad, desperate. “I will take it,” Valarr says and he’s begging, Daeron suddenly realizes, he’s begging him. “Whatever you’d allow me to have of you, I will take it, Daeron.”
Confused Daeron opens his eyes. “I don’t…” he stops himself and he is misunderstanding what Valarr is saying. Misunderstanding what he is smelling on him.
“What are you … what do you mean?”
“I mean how would you allow me to have you?” Valarr repeats, eyes so sincere, scent so desperate. “I promise I will stop trying to court you, I promise I will not scent you, I will not ask anything more of you than bedding you, just please, let me stay in your life in some way.”
Daeron feels like he is drunk. His heartbeat is drumming in his ears, bewilderment mixing with disbelief.
“Courting me?” he manages to stutter out. “What do you mean courting me? You are asking me to help with courting gifts for some other omega!”
Valarr eyes widen in confusion. “What other omega?” he asks.
“The one you got that damned bracelet for!” It bursts out of Daeron and he sees something spark in Valarr’s eyes.
“It’s for you,” he then says, voice rough. “I got it for you.” Daeron cannot speak. He can only stare in numb disbelief as Valarr reaches into his robes and pulls out the bracelet.
“I know one is supposed to start with flowers,” Valarr says, almost wistfully. “But I know you do not care for them. And I thought since we are already … since we had…” He trails off, looking at the bracelet in his hand.
“I thought you would like it,” he then says quietly. And in the silence falling after this Daeron starts laughing. It’s a wild and uncontrolled thing, turning into a sob halfway.
“This is cruel,” he says and he isn’t crying. He will not cry. He has so little but he will have this. “I did not think you capable of that but congratulations. You are.”
Valarr looks at him bewildered. “What are you talking-” he begins but Daeron interrupts him.
“Pretending to court me. What a joke. Did Aerion set you up to this? Or my father?” Had they noticed the way he had been looking at Valarr, foolish longing, unwise desire.
Found it best to remind him of his place in a way that would stick, in a way where he would not bring shame ever again upon his family by wanting what he can never have? It had worked. Gods, it had worked.
“It is … it is a cruel joke,” he whispers and he cannot hold the tears back anymore. Twists his face away so Valarr will not see them.
A hand on his face then though, gentle, soft, pulling him back towards Valarr. “It is not a joke,” Valarr says, voice almost breaking. “I would never do this to you.”
“So what, I am supposed to believe you are actually courting me?” Daeron forces out.
“Yes,” Valarr replies, eyes never once leaving Daeron’s. “I want you. I want you so much.”
“I am a drunk,” Daeron hisses. “I am mad. I am an omega who cannot bear you any children. You will inherit the throne. You cannot want me.”
Valarr’s hand on his face softly strokes over his chin, wipes away a tear.
“I shouldn’t,” he then admits. “I should find some high-ranking omega who will bear me heirs. I should not be here. I should not want you.”
He leans forwards then, burrows himself against Daeron’s neck and he can feel Valarr’s nostrils moving as he breathes in deeply.
“But I want you,” he whispers against Daeron’s skin. “I want you so much. You are the one thing I want that I shouldn’t. That I can never have. But I do.”
Moves away then, away from Daeron’s neck, towards his mouth. Kisses him, hard, longing and Daeron can taste the desire on him, feels his knees give in.
Is caught gently by Valarr who looks at him with such a look of pure adulation, his heart skips a beat.
“I want you, Daeron,” Valarr repeats. “Please. Let me have you. Let me court you. Let me love you.”
Fire bursting inside his stomach, spreading through his veins inside his entire body, a heat so intense and sudden he almost chokes on it and he starts shaking.
Valarr’s eyes widen in shock and he pushes forward, holding Daeron tightly.
“What’s going on,” he says, voice alarmed. “Are you okay?” And then he stops, mouth slightly open as he takes a deep breath. And then another one.
Daeron is too focused on the burning inside him, the intense heat that now has engulfed him completely but seems to be concentrating especially lower on his body.
“What’s happening,” he asks and confusingly he feels himself grow wet with slick as he ask this.
“Heat,” Valarr says and his voice is a growl, deep and dark and everything Daeron could ever want and more. “You’ve gone into heat.”
“What?” Daeron asks confused. “I don’t … I can’t…” And then his eyes fall onto Valarr, his scent of blooming trees, of wood and fruit and he stares at him almost accusingly.
“You did this,” he says. “You did this to me.” And in response Valarr just smiles widely at him, his eyes filled with so much want Daeron let’s out a whimper as the heat somehow impossible seems to multiply.
His skin burns when Valarr lunges forwards to kiss him again. He moans into the kiss, feels Valarr immediately force his tongue in, only to suddenly pull away abruptly and he whines at the loss of contact.
“Tell me to go,” Valarr growls and it almost looks like the words are causing him physical pain.
“Tell me to go and I will. I will get the maester, servants. They will ensure you are alone and safe during your heat. You don’t … if you don’t want this, I will leave.”
Daeron’s hands reach out for Valarr before he is done speaking, pulling him back towards him. Close enough for their mouths to almost touch again.
“You said you wanted me,” he says, whispers into Valarr’s heated skin. “Then have me.”
The growl coming from Valarr in response makes the heat almost burst, makes Daeron want to show off his neck and beg Valarr to bite, to mark, to claim.
Instead he finds himself on his back suddenly, staring up at Valarr who has somehow pushed him onto his bed without him even noticing.
He looks down at him with eyes so dark Daeron feels another shudder run through him and an embarrassing amount of slick staining his robe. Valarr pulls it off, movements wild and lacking his usual grace, stopping only briefly to suck open-mouthed kisses against Daeron’s skin, taking great care to cover the marks the alpha had left on him earlier that night.
“Mine,” he whispers, staring down at him and Daeron can feel him through his own clothes, cock hard and aching and never before had he wanted something as badly inside him as he wanted Valarr’s cock in that very moment.
“Please,” he begs, voice breathless and broken, pushing his hips up to move against Valarrr’s clothed cock. “Please, Valarr.”
Somehow impossibly Valarr’s eye darken even more when Daeron says his name. He pulls of his own clothes, lets his cock spring free, achingly hard and red and Daeron moans loudly as he positions himself.
He bends down to kiss him again the moment he pushes inside, burying himself fully instantly.
He goes without any resistance, Daeron’s body welcoming him completely and the flames will burn him, Daeron thinks, will burn his entire body until he is nothing but ash and he wants it, will burn without hesitation if it means feeling like this, feeling Valarr inside him forever.
Valarr starts moving, thrusting inside of him, uncoordinated and uncontrolled, seemingly too far gone to care.
It is pure bliss, Daeron moaning deeply every time Valarr fills him completely, wrapping his legs around him to force him to stay inside. He can feel Valarr’s knot swelling and had the feeling been ecstatic before, now it is a matter of survival.
The heat is consuming him, will burn him completely if he cannot get Valarr to knot him.
“Perfect,” Valarr somewhere mumbles above him as he keeps thrusting, distantly but so close still, close enough to make Daeron shake. “You’re so perfect.”
And then his thrusts grow swallow, broken, his swelling knot catching inside Daeron before it becomes too much.
Valarr’s mouth is pressed against his neck all of a sudden, teeth scrapping over his skin and the moment Daeron feels him spill inside him, he bites down, skin bursting under the force of it.
The claim and the feeling of Valarr inside him is enough to push Daeron over the edge himself and he almost blacks out with the intensity of it all.
When he comes to, Valarr is looking down at him. His neck aches with the leftover pain of the bite and he can feel Valarr’s knot, can feel his seed inside him and he shudders in delight suddenly when he realizes what it could mean with his heat having finally come.
He can see Valarr’s eyes following his gaze, sees a smile spread on his face, impossibly wide when he seems to come to the same realization.
“Mine,” Valarr whispers and then he leans down to kiss him and maybe, Daeron thinks. Maybe he can have what he wants.
“Yours,” he replies and kisses his alpha.