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Snow always made Kings Landing strangely beautiful. The soft layers of it suppressed the smell, and it reflected the warm light of the fires in the buildings softly, tempering the flames into something Aerion could get lost in without slipping too far away.
Kings Landing was nothing like Summerhall. The capital always made Aerion feel like he was going to crawl out of his skin, too many unfamiliar eyes and ears, waiting to strike at a moments notice. Summerhall was more familiar, with knights, maids, and servants Aerion recognised, all tightly loyal to one another.
He had never realised just how different things were in Kings Landing prior to his exile to Lys. His time in the Free Cities had sharpened him, woken him up to the workings of the world. It had also softened him, forcing him to live amongst the common folk, to embrace that part of the world.
He had come back to Westeros not different, but subdued, knowing when to speak and to act, when to listen to his emotions and when to temper them. That was not to say he was now the perfect son, nothing like Valarr and his insipid boringness, but he was enough for his father to look upon him with an ounce of respect, pride.
A knock at the door ripped him from his musings. It was a hesitant rap against the stone, a slight fumble to it that betrayed the nerves of the person performing it. He walked to the door, stopping to rub his cheeks to ruddy them and pluck at the front of his thin ornate robe, positioning it in a way that he knew would be artfully disheveled, effortlessly seductive in its simplicity.
He pulled open the door, tilting his head up to narrow his eyes at the giant before him.
“You’re late.” he hissed.
He was not late, even in the slightest.
“My apologies, Your Highness,” Ser Duncan the Tall said with a deep bow of his head. “I did not mean to keep you waiting.”
Gods. No matter how many times he saw the knight, he would always be thrown by just how large of a man he was, and the bulk of his armour just added to it.
He wanted to eat him alive.
Aerion just clicked his tongue, faux displeased at the imagined slight. He stepped aside slightly before snapping and grabbing the knight by the hand, yanking him forward.
“Get in, you fool, you are letting the cold air in.”
Duncan pulled the door shut behind himself and Aerion didn’t resist the urge to squeeze his hand lightly before dropping it. He crossed the room and sat himself in an ornate wooden chair. He situated himself artfully, allowing a slip of his pale leg to show and watched as Duncan’s eyes traced the movement. He looked entirely out of his depth stood in Aerion’s chamber, hands linked tightly in front of himself.
“Come.” Aerion commanded, holding up a hand to stop him once Duncan had crossed the room, stepping onto the soft carpet.
“Take off your armour,” he said, affecting a bored tone. “Your clothing too.”
An extremely attractive red flush covered Duncan’s cheeks.
“Your Highness, I did not think-“
“Exactly,” Aerion cut him off. “You do not think, you listen. Take off your clothes.”
Duncan was still for a beat that stretched too long for Aerion’s likings, nerves sweeping icily through him like the wind blowing outside the castle walls. It was entirely a gamble, summoning the knight to his chambers and offering no explanation, and he did not know what he would do if it blew up in his face.
Run back to Lys, most likely.
The silence stretched longer before Duncan nodded to himself and unlatched his cloak in one swift movement, pulling it off and folding it haphazardly. He then began unbuckling his armour piece by piece and it was not long before the shining metal lay in a pile by his feet.
“Continue.” Aerion spoke suddenly, and Duncan was quick to pull his undershirt over his head. It was when he began unlacing his pants that Aerion noticed the large bugle. Oh, he was already hard. Some biting commands, a flash of pale skin, and Aerion’s cool indifferent gaze was all the knight needed.
The chambers were almost silent, the only noise Duncan’s heavy, stuttered breathing, and the crackling of the fire. The knights broad chest was heaving, and Aerion was distracted by it, and even broader shoulders, as he dragged his gaze along the giant man’s naked form. He had to resist the urge to squeeze his thighs together, wanting nothing more to roll his hips into the wave of arousal that shot through him.
Duncan was standing before him, naked and desperately aroused, awaiting instruction. This was all for him.
“Kneel.” Aerion breathed, voice quiet but final. Duncan went to step forward, intending to kneel in front of where Aerion sat, but stopped firmly in his path upon hearing his displeased noise, soft in the back of his throat.
“Kneel, where you stand, giant.” He repeated, tilting his head in faux demurity.
Duncan kneeled, slowly lowering himself until his knees were pressed firmly to the floor, his eyes never once leaving Aerion’s face. This time, Aerion did not resist the urge to roll his hips as a rush of arousal flowed through him, his cunt throbbing at the sight before him and the realisation that this bumbling oaf could very easily suck on his tits at the height this position brought him down to. He watched as Duncan’s eyes finally slipped from his face, tracking the movement of his grind into the chair.
“My Prince-“ he began but Aerion cut him off with a harsh shush, tipping his head back over the edge of the wooden chair as a particularly satisfying squeeze of his thighs sent a jolt through him.
“You will speak, ah, only when I command it,” Aerion said, rolling his shoulders forward and bringing his gaze back to the sight before him. “Do you understand?”
“Yes-“ Duncan replied, before thinking better of it and giving a firm, slow nod of his head. Aerion’s smile was all teeth.
“Good dog,” Aerion said, sinking down slightly in his chair and smoothing his hands over the soft silk of the robe covering his thighs. “And good dogs deserve rewards, do they not?”
Duncan’s answering nod was hesitant.
“Do you deserve to be rewarded?”
He began to nod his head again, hands clenched tightly on the tops of his thighs, when Aerion snapped: “Speak.”
His swallow was audible. “I deserve only what I’m given, my Prince.” He hesitated, mind slowly catching up to the situation at hand, before he spoke again. “Y’re no reward, m’lord, but a gift.”
It was simple, unadorned with no underlying intention of flattery, just purely based on the hedge knight’s very first thoughts, yet it sent a flutter through him, not of arousal, but of something sweeter.
A weaker man may have called it affection.
“That’s right, I am a gift, to the realm, to you,” Aerion said, allowing the silk of his robe to slip down his shoulder, exposing the sharp lines of his collarbone and the small curve of a breast. “Thank me.”
Duncan’s reply was prompt. “Thank you, my Prince.”
“For?”
“For allowing me this honour?” The knight’s tone lifted towards the end of his sentence, shaping it into more of a question than a statement, but Aerion chose to ignore this, and nodded his head, pleased nonetheless.
“Good dog,” he repeated as he spread his legs wide, the silk spilling down to rest on the outside of his legs, allowing the knight to view his cunt for the first time. “Come and claim your gift.”
Duncan’s eyes widened in the low light, and somehow, Aerion could see his cock grow harder, thickening and twitching where it lay against his thigh, too heavy to stand upright despite his arousal. He could see wetness beading on the tip and felt his cunt throb and release a wave of slickness in response. He could only imagine the picture he painted, draped carelessly on the adorned wooden chair and wrapped in a gauzy, silky excuse of a robe, legs spread with his pussy glistening in the firelight.
He had never been more vulnerable, more exposed, but he felt like the most powerful man in the seven kingdoms.
He brought a hand up to the edge of the robe which still covered his breast and slowly dragged it down, revealing his modest chest in its entirety, and slowly circled his nipple with a nail before squeezing the whole tit in his hand harshly. He could hear Duncan’s breath catch in his throat at the action but didn’t look up at the man, continuing his ministrations and squeezing in a way that made the soft, white flesh spill through his fingers.
In Aerion’s own small hands, his breasts filled its entirety. In Duncan’s, he imagined they would settle quaintly in his palms, hardly a handful. Hardly a mouthful, Aerion thought. Gods, he could likely fit the entirety of his breast into his mouth. He felt like he was dangerously close to release, and Duncan was still fucking kneeling.
Releasing his breast and leaving red marks behind which spoke of finger shaped bruises in the morn, he dragged his hand down the length of his stomach, undoing the loose tie of the robe as he went, leaving himself fully exposed. His hand came to rest at the top of his mound, dipping his fingers into the neat white blond thatch of hair between his thighs. Slowly, under Duncan’s rapt gaze, he slipped his hand down, cupping his pussy in his hand and hiding it from the knight’s view, suppressing a smile at the unconscious noise of displeasure he released.
His cunt was utterly soaked, blood warmed and fat with arousal, and Aerion couldn’t help but gasp as the top of his palm brushed against his sensitive clit. He ground against himself for a moment, free hand coming up to grip the arm of the chair as he moaned softly. He dragged one finger through his folds, dipping briefly into his small hole and up over his clit, a wet noise filling the room as his folds separated. He kept dragging his finger up, leaving a wet line of slick up his belly that Duncan followed with his eyes, glistening in the firelight, and began to circle at his nipple, this time with the wetness of his pussy to soothe the motion.
Aerion turned his gaze back to Duncan, eyes half lidded with arousal and tilted his head as the pair made eye contact once more.
“Come to me.” Aerion said, voice barely above a whisper. The taller man went to lift himself up onto unsteady feet before Aerion made another displeased tsk, freezing him in his tracks. Duncan looked back up at the prince and Aerion had to suppress a small laugh, a giggle, as the way his mouth fell open at the sight before him.
Aerion, with one of his legs now drawn up, foot resting on the seat of the chair and knee tilted outwards, resting against the chair's arm. The position left the prince entirely exposed, the pink insides of his cunt glistening, with his tight hole barely exposed and winking, still slightly hidden by his fat lips. He was sin incarnate.
“Crawl, Ser.” Aerion spoke again, tracing shapes on the soft flesh of his inner thigh. He ached to feel the sting Duncan’s teeth there, perhaps he would draw blood. “Crawl to your gift.”
Duncan released a deep, strangled moan, falling forward onto his hands and knees and slowly crawling across the wooden floor, eyes never leaving Aerion’s cunt. The Seven save him, this man really was a dog, a beast.
He was closer now, close enough that Aerion could see the sweat that beaded down his neck, body overheated from arousal despite the coolness of the night. Once he was close enough, one enormous hand reaching out to grab at him, Aerion stuck his foot out swiftly, pressing the soft ball against the center of his forehead, and stopped the taller man in his path.
He could see Duncan blink, brought out of the haze of his arousal briefly as Aerion pressed more of his weight behind the foot. Duncan didn’t say anything, like the good dog he was, and brought a hand up to cup his ankle and smooth a hand up the back of his calf, coming to rest at the bend of his knee. Not moving him like he knew the knight very easily could, just resting there.
“You are to use your mouth,” Aerion said softly as he dragged the tip of his toe down the side of Duncan’s face, sliding along the sharp carve of his jawline before pushing his chin upwards. “And you are not to stop until you are told, nor are you to touch yourself. My pleasure is your pleasure.”
He would never say it out loud, but Duncan was devastatingly handsome in the warm light of the fire, his sandy hair looking like spun gold and blue eyes blown black. Aerion could feel his throat bob as he swallowed harshly at his words. In lieu of answer, Duncan tilted his head down and placed a featherlight kiss to the top of Aerion’s foot. He pushed Aerion’s foot lower and dragged his nose over where he had kissed, all while shuffling in further on his knees, pausing briefly to mouth at the delicate protrusion of his ankle.
Aerion watched, expression neutral, as the knight slowly kissed his way up Aerion’s outstretched leg, drawing closer until he was borderline flush with the chair, chest pressed against the hard wooden grain. He brought his free hand up, grabbing hold of the foot Aerion still had tucked up on the chair and lifted it, slipping the limb over his broad shoulders. The action forced Aerion’s legs to part further, and he let out a soft sigh at the stretch of the muscle. Duncan turned his head and pressed a kiss to the bend of the knee resting on his shoulder and dragged his mouth up the soft skin of his inner thigh, releasing his own moan at the taste of Aerion’s wetness that had seeped down earlier.
He brought the soft white flesh into his mouth, suckling harshly on the ridged raised lines of healed scar tissue as he slipped his hands up the outsides of Aerion’s thighs to grip tightly at the curve of his hips. He repeated the sucking kisses, growing closer and closer to Aerion’s core before biting down suddenly, leaving a purpling indented teeth mark. The harsh action ripped a loud moan from Aerion’s throat and his hands flew down to grip tightly to Duncan’s brown tresses, making the knight reply with an answering moan.
“Again, use your teeth again.” Aerion commanded, scraping his nails through Duncan’s scalp. Duncan, like the good dog he was, heeded the command instantly, pulling the meat of his thigh into his mouth, suckling and gnawing on it. He repeated the action a few more times, causing Aerion’s cool facade to crack. By the time he was able to get his wits about himself and yank the knight’s head back, his inner thighs were a mess of purple and red bruises and bite marks, which would no doubt bring him grief for at least a week as they healed. His already soaked cunt throbbed viciously at the potential ache he would feel when his thighs would rub together in the future.
“You oaf,” he murmured, running his fingers through the deceptively soft hair. “Do you intend to render me invalid? To sup on my flesh instead of my cunt?”
Suddenly, Aerion yanked his head back by his hair, making the taller man release a deep gasp of surprised pain. He bent himself in half, legs still over Duncan’s shoulders and brought their faces closer together. He watched as the knight’s eyes darted around, flickering between Aerion’s own face and his chest, nipples hardened with arousal.
“Do you wish to consume me, Ser Duncan? To own me? To slip your hand under my clothes during the daylight and feel the evidence of your claim on the dragon of House Targaryen?”
He released his grip on the knight’s hair, watching as the implication of Aerion’s words settled into place in his brain. Duncan’s eyelashes fluttered as Aerion gently stroked his face, pressing his neatly manicured thumb into the soft cushion of the knight’s bottom lip, turning the pink flesh white with pressure.
“Answer me.”
“I-“ Duncan began, before stopping and clearing his throat. “I wish to have whatever you will allow of me.” He murmured, matching his tone to Aerion’s.
From anyone else, he would have found the answer polished, manicured like his nails, but from the knight, it was painfully earnest, assiduous in its sincerity.
For a moment, Aerion just considered him with a tilt of his head. There was no inkling of fear in Duncan’s gaze or posture, like there were no potential consequences that could come from this union. From his wide eyed gaze to the flush that spread down his neck from his cheeks to his chest, it looked like the knight could not comprehend how he had ended up in this position, faced with the wet pussy of a prince. He dragged the sharp edge of his nail across Duncan’s lip before slumping back in the chair with a soft hmm, sliding himself down further and bringing his cunt closer to the knight.
“You may continue, oaf.” Aerion said haughtily, like he was not the one who had brought their relations to a temporary halt. Duncan blinked, seemingly pulling himself from a daze before looking at the plump, pink flesh of the prince's cunt in mild surprise, almost like he had forgotten about the task at hand.
“Do not tell me this is your first time with a cunt.” Aerion said slowly.
Duncan remained silent.
“Oaf.” He snapped.
“You said not to tell you.” Duncan replied, tone simultaneously dry and embarrassed.
Aerion felt as if he had been struck dumb, he would be the knight’s first. He felt himself pulsate at the thought and had to stifle a whimper, rolling his hips slightly. Duncan seemed to wilt slightly at Aerion’s silence.
“Would you like me to leave?” He asked, words seeming like they were being drawn out of him.
“No,” Aerion snapped emphatically. “No, you are to stay, and you are to learn,” He dug his heel in harshly to the knight’s shoulder blade. “And you are to stop talking.”
Duncan’s jaw snapped shut with an audible click and somehow, his eyes widened further. He nodded slowly and dropped his eyes once more to gaze upon Aerion’s cunt.
“Well? What are you waiting for? Kiss it,” Aerion murmured. “Kiss my cunt.”
Duncan leaned in slowly and placed a soft, dry kiss to the top of Aerion’s mound, rubbing his face against the soft, downy hair. He placed kisses all over the mound before dropping a wet, sucking kiss against his swollen clit suddenly, sucking the nub into his mouth, making him release a heavy moan, a hand flying up to grip the ornate back of the chair.
He did not linger on Aerion’s clit, releasing it with a soft kiss before pressing his face into his cunt further. There was very little finesse to it, he had received more practiced pleasure in the whorehouses of Lys, but it was made up for in spades by his enthusiasm. He licked and sucked at Aerion’s wetness like it might be the last thing he ever did, his own eyes shut in pleasure. Duncan sucked over his small hole before spearing it with his tongue, licking into him to coax more wetness forward. The sensation sent a jolt through him, and he clenched down on the wiggling appendage. He felt Duncan’s mouth spread into a smile against him as he repeated the motion and ripped a high pitched gasp from the prince.
“Oh- Fuck!” Aerion moaned, clenching his thighs tighter around the knight’s head. “Duncan.”
The knight answered with a wordless hum, causing Aerion to bite down harshly on his bottom lip to swallow down a scream. The hand still gripping the back of the chair flew down, threading through Duncan’s hair and pulling him in closer.
“Duncan, my clit, oh, fucking hells.” he gasped, digging his heels into the taller man’s should blades.
He felt the thick tongue exit him, and was not given any time to mourn as Duncan quickly began lapping at his throbbing clit once more. It was too much and not enough all of a sudden, and Aerion found he could not get any leverage in his current position. He was suddenly consumed by a vision of riding the knight’s face, and combined with the stimulation of his clit, he found himself hurtling closer towards his peak.
He was releasing a steady string of whimpers by this point and he felt his whole body shuddering, unable to move the way he wanted to due to Duncan’s tight grip on his waist line. It was with one last suckle to the sensitive nub that he came, mouth dropping open in a wordless scream, tightening his grip no doubt to the point of pain on Duncan’s hair.
Duncan did not stop licking at him, trying to lap up as much of Aerion’s wetness as possible, releasing a harsh moan of his own at the sensation of Aerion’s orgasm.
He could still feel the aftershocks deep inside himself when he finally regained his strength to push Duncan away, biting his lip when the knight made an unconscious noise of displeasure. He was a vision in the low light, hair disheveled, pupils blown wide, and the lower half of his face completely covered in Aerion’s wetness.
The sight made another deep wave of pleasure roll through him.
It was like he could not help it, and needed desperately to be closer. Aerion slid his legs off Duncan’s shoulders and stood suddenly, pushing the chair back with a force that it tipped and hit the floor with a loud crack. The hazy look of pleasure had left Duncan’s face, replaced by one of shocked confusion as Aerion now stood before him.
“Your Highness?” he questioned, voice uncertain.
“Shut up.” Aerion snapped, slinging one of his legs back over the knight’s shoulder, the strain easing when his hands came up to grip the backs of his legs, taking his weight easily.
The position was likely to be inconvenient in the long run, with Aerion having to come up on the tips of his toes to really gain any leverage. But it created a delicious view, being able to look down on Duncan’s kneeling form, looking almost worshipful, sent a rush of arousal so strong through him that he had to plant a hand on the table next to them for balance.
Duncan turned his head, pressing a kiss to the purpling bruises on the inside of Aerion’s thigh. It was a sweet gesture during something so vulgar, and Aerion could not help the smitten sigh he released, still weak from his earlier orgasm.
“I am going to fuck your face, oaf, and you are going to take it,” Aerion said conversationally. “Does this sound pleasurable to you?”
“Yes, please, my Prince.” Duncan said, begged, eyes bright with anticipation.
Aerion’s free hand came up and gripped the back of the knight’s neck harshly, and pushed his face into his cunt. They released twin gasps of shocked pleasure, and he began immediately rolling his hips into Duncan’s open eager mouth.
It was not long before the room was once again filled with the wet noises of Aerion’s soaked cunt. He was still wet with the slick of his earlier orgasm and he had only started dripping further in their repositioning. Duncan took Aerion’s rough handling in stride, opening his mouth and licking deeply into him with every roll of the princes hips.
In his eagerness, the hand Aerion had planted on the table slipped forward, causing his clit to slide harshly along the uneven cartilage of Duncan’s nose. The noise that ripped from him was almost unholy, and he repeated the action time and time again.
“Seven hells,” he moaned, hunched forward around Duncan’s head. “You take it so well, such a good boy for me.”
The words made the knight moan, picking up the pace of his tongue.
He could feel his orgasm approaching quicker this time, pleasure slamming into him as Duncan moved his mouth with more surety than he had possessed when they first started. His movements were no longer his own, the rolls of hips being guided by the firm hold Duncan had on his thighs and ass, fingers digging into the soft flesh, no doubt leaving bruising marks in their wake to match the ones left on his hips.
“Fuck.” Aerion moaned emphatically as he came, orgasm ripping through him with an unexpected fury. His whole body tensed and shook as pleasure overtook his body, the hand not on the table slapping down onto Duncan’s broad shoulder, gripping him tightly as he was licked softly through the pleasure.
He felt unsteady, his second orgasm of the night making his legs shake from overstimulation. He could feel his calf beginning to strain from where he was pressed up onto the tips of his toes, the other leg hanging uselessly over the mountain range Duncan attempted to pass off as shoulders. He leaned more heavily onto the hand planted on the wooden table, panting softly as he caressed the soft tawny hair behind the knight’s ears.
He could hear Duncan’s own panting breathing from where the taller man had his face still pressed against the crease of Aerion’s thigh. Aerion allowed the peace to exist for a moment longer before tugging Duncan’s ear between his fingers as he started to pull the leg he still had on Duncan’s shoulder down.
Lowering his shoulder to allow Aerion’s leg to slip off, he lifted his head to look up at the prince, pressing his chin to the barely there softness of Aerion’s lower belly.
“If I find out you have done that to someone else,” Aerion murmured, throat rough from his earlier gasps and moans. “I will have them killed and you will be sent to the Wall.”
Shock did not colour Duncan’s features like Aerion expected. Instead, a small smile spread across the knights face and he pressed a soft kiss to the side of his belly button.
“It was good? For you?” Duncan asked earnestly. Aerion just hummed in response, scraping his nails over the taller man’s scalp once more.
“It was adequate, we will have to practice. Twice daily perhaps.” Duncan laughed, and he allowed a small twitch of his lips in response.
“Anything, anything you want, Your Highness.”
“Anything I want?” Aerion asked sweetly, tilting his head. “Lay down.”
Duncan was quick to follow the order, and brought Aerion down with him by the tight grip he still had on the princes hips. Duncan lay flat on his back on the soft carpet, with Aerion perched on his ribs. His cock was thick, tip a bright ruddy red from neglect, and Aerion was quietly proud of the knight’s restraint. Aerion was far from a blushing virgin, and had lain with older men, older knights, with far less restrained.
Reaching back, not taking his eyes from Duncan’s face, he gripped his cock in his small hand, the flesh warm and throbbing in his grip. Duncan moaned, loud and surprised as Aerion began stroking him slowly.
“Do you want to fuck me?” Aerion asked softly.
“My, fuck, my wants are your wants, Your Highness.” Duncan answered shakily.
“Good answer, you are very good, Ser.” he hummed, pulling his hands away, pleased at hearing Duncan’s soft gasp.
He leaned forward, pressing his breasts tightly against Duncan’s own lightly furred chest. The knights hands sprung up around him, one running up and down the plains of his back in a sweeping motion while the other gripped the soft flesh of his ass, squeezing the flesh so it spilled between his fingers.
“I want you to fuck me, right on this floor. You will do this, won’t you?” Aerion said, their mouths hovering over inches apart.
Duncan nodded, and he was rewarded with a small, rarely seen smile, as Aerion pressed their lips together for the first time that night.
It wasn’t their first kiss. The first had happened clandestinely and suddenly a few nights ago. The whispers in Aerion’s mind had clawed their way out of the daylight, following him into the darkness of his chambers. They were loud, oppressive in their ceaselessness, making the shadows the fire spat onto the walls dance in a way that terrified him, speaking not of dragons, but of doom. The screaming in his head always felt louder at The Red Keep, his elder brother had once claimed that it was due to the ghosts of their family line, too much Targaryen blood spilled on the stone. For once, Aerion was inclined to agree.
He paced until he could not stand it anymore, warm blood dripping to the floor from where he had scratched at the soft flesh of the inside of his forearms. He could hear a ghoulish whimpering and it was a long moment before he realised the sound was coming from himself.
Uncaring that he was only dressed in an oversized linen nightshirt and a thin robe, he stumbled out into the hall, the cool blue light of the full moon washing over his overheated body like a wave, pushing the whispers back behind the closed door of Aerion’s chambers. The knight standing post outside his door was not one that they had brought with them from Summerhall, and he hissed at the man to remain at his post or fuck off entirely, unwilling to have a witness to his emotional turbulence.
It was later than he had realised, having lost more time than expected during his machinations. The castle was mostly asleep, maids and servants still rushing about, but it allowed for Aerion to drift around unseen. Perhaps his father would still be awake and he would allow Aerion to sit with him. The elder prince was always… kinder at The Red Keep, though Aerion believed that it had less to do with the location itself and more so with those who resided within it.
He walked through the halls in a daze, the plan of finding his father becoming more and more vague as he wandered. Eventually, inevitably most like, he found himself standing in one of the palace gardens, overlooking the city below. It was moments like this, when his mind was quiet and he felt most unlike himself, that he could see Kings Landing at its peak. He could see the arching dome of the Dragonpit, glorious in its full unbroken beauty, and he could see the dragons who once lived within it, filling the sky above.
“Your Highness.” A rumbling tone spoke suddenly, and Aerion blinked, startling imperceptibly, and the vision was gone. The only thing filling the sky was the smoke from the city below and the Dragonpit stood mockingly, crumpled in on itself in ruin. He did not deign himself to turn around fully, looking over his shoulder, entirely unsurprised to see his brother's gigantic knight standing before him. He was fully dressed in his armour, save for his helmet, and Aerion came to the conclusion that he must have found himself in the path of the oaf’s chosen patrol route.
“Ser.” Aerion responded shortly, not entirely having it in himself to spit vitriol at this time. They had not interacted much during their shared time at The Keep, passing each other during the day with Aerion doing his very best to attempt to ignore the knight’s existence entirely. Their interactions during the night however had been different, curiously more charged, a strange electricity to the shared eye contact they would make across low lit rooms. He could still feel the phantom press of Duncan’s large hand against his waist from when the knight assisted him in dismounting his horse, the ornate craftsmanship of his cloak proving to be a weighty hindrance.
It had been a handful of years since they had last seen each other, and Aerion found himself stunned to find that the knight had somehow grown taller. A deeper part of his mind was less stunned to find that the knight had also become handsomer.
“It is past the hour of the bat, my prince, and the night grows colder,” Ser Duncan spoke, stepping closer to the prince but still keeping a respectful distance. “Allow me to escort you back to your chambers.”
Aerion thought of his chambers, and of the shadows on the walls, and turned his head back towards the city.
“I do not wish to return to my chambers tonight,” he replied. “Begone with you. Oaf.” He tacked on the last part, almost offhandedly.
The knight stood silently for a long moment, almost allowing for Aerion to slip back into the daze he had fell into earlier when the metallic shift of armour brought him back to solid ground. Duncan had forgone the respectful distance he had kept between them, coming to stand by his side.
“My prince-“
“The Dragonpit used to be representative of our power, the strength of our House,” Aerion cut the knight off. “It held dozens of dragons before its destruction, before their destruction.”
Duncan just looked at him, the pupil of his blue eyes blown wide in the low light.
“The first time it was destroyed was by Princess Rhaenys, The Queen Who Never Was, and her dragons, Meleys. It is said she burst through the floor during King Aegon II coronation, killing thousands of small-folk and beginning the Dance on a large scale. The second was by the small-folk themselves, when they stormed the pit and murdered the dragons chained within. The she-dragon Dreamfyre was the one who caused the thing to come crumbling down on itself, thrashing in her death throes.” Aerion’s voice was soft, recounting the history unblinkingly. He turned to look fully at the knight.
“It is something I have never understood, a cruelty almost, that my ancestors kept their dragons chained underground, leaving them idle,” He paused briefly. “I would not do such a thing.”
Duncan seemed to think for a moment before speaking. “Ser Arlan used to say that we treasure things more when we do not possess them, your Highness.”
“It is foolish to disregard something as soon as you possess it,” Aerion replied, turning the words over in his head. “Especially when it is something to be treasured.”
He reached out, running his finger over the symbol of House Targaryen Duncan had embossed into the plating of his shoulder pauldron of his otherwise simple armour.
“What do you possess, Ser Duncan?” Aerion said, resting his hand flat against the dragon and looking up at the knight through his pale eyelashes. “What do you treasure?”
“I am a knight of the seven kingdoms,” Duncan murmured back softly. “I possess nothing.”
“You want for nothing?”
“That is not what I said.”
They stared at each other, the words hanging thickly in the air between them, threatening to drip down like honey. A frigid breeze ripped through the garden, breaking the moment as Aerion shivered and sighed gently, shuffling further into the shadow of the tall knight and positioning himself so he was cut off from the direct path of the wind.
He brought his hand up to brush his hair flat and jerked with surprise when the knight grabbed him by the wrist, causing him to hiss.
“Release me, you fucking-“
“You are injured, how?” Duncan said, voice rising with his own shock.
Oh, the gouges on his wrists, he had forgotten. They had stopped bleeding but the blood had dried messily, and he could only imagine what the insides of his robe sleeves looked like. He would need to clean them in the morning. It was unlikely that they would scar, unlike the times Aerion had taken a knife to himself on his worse days, the belief that there was a beast within him growing stronger than he could handle, but it did not bode well for a prince of the realm to walk around looking mauled.
“My brother is not the only Targaryen who is ailed by whispers of the mind, yet I do not attempt to numb myself by drowning in cups and whores,” Aerion snapped. “This is my own doing.”
“Your Highness-“
“My whispers were screams tonight, not vague dreams of the past or future,” Aerion said, feeling himself begin to shrink back into his own mind. “The fire haunts me, it calls to me,” he swallowed harshly. “It scares me.”
“Your Highness,” Duncan said again, voice calm but firm, as if he were talking to one of his horses. “Allow me to summon a maid, to clean your wounds, or-or allow me to clean them myself.” He squeezed the delicate wrist in his grip lightly.
The pressure was enough to bring Aerion out of the corners of his mind, his eyes refocusing to meet Duncan’s earnestly concerned gaze. It was strange to witness such concern without it being tainted by pity.
“Tis hardly a wound, merely a surface gash. I shall deal with it in the morning,” Aerion snapped again, feeling more settled in his skin. “Release me, you oaf.”
Duncan dropped his hand suddenly, as if realising whom he was grabbing and the events of what had happened last time he grabbed Aerion like that.
“Forgive me, Your Highness, I forgot myself in concern.” Duncan said quickly, his head dropped in supplication.
Aerion merely waved a hand as if to knock the apology out of the air, and turned back towards the city.
The quiet stretched between them for a handful of minutes, the night seeming to grow darker as the city itself grew brighter, more fires popping up as he gazed down upon it. The small moment of peace was broken when Duncan spoke suddenly.
“The Dragonpit, it was like a stable?”
Aerion blinked, unsure of what he had just been asked. Was it mocking? No, Duncan was entirely too earnest in his tone of questioning, and as Aerion slowly brought his eyes back to look at the giant of a man, his expression was open, genuine in his curiosity.
“You are a fool.” he answered flatly.
“No, my prince, I am a knight.” Duncan replied.
Aerion opened his mouth to berate him before catching sight of the small grin on the other man’s face and his mouth clicked shut. He let out a noise he had never made before in the knight’s presence. A genuine giggle, and watched as the grin spread into a full smile.
Gods above, Aerion thought, somehow this man, with his commonly plain features, was perhaps the most handsome man he had ever seen in his whole life. His nose was crooked in a way it hadn’t been before, speaking of a poorly done realignment, likely by his own hand. Aerion found his eyes lingering on it, flickering between it and the new scar he had on his jawline.
“Is there something on my face, my Prince?” Duncan asked, looking unsure of himself.
Aerion felt his face warm and pulled his eyes away.
“Yes, stupidity. You are drenched in it.” he snapped. The other man just laughed softly, dropping his eyes to the floor before snapping his head back up.
“Your Highness, you wear no shoes!” he exclaimed. “You must be freezing!”
Yes, he was freezing, more than he had been when he left his chambers, more cold than he had been all of ten minutes ago. It was a sudden cold, and yet, he was surprised when the first snowflake landed on the tip of nose. He felt himself go lightly cross-eyed in an attempt to look at it, and heard the knight chuckle lightly. He shot a look that could curdle milk at the taller man as more snowflakes fell.
He heard Duncan begin to fiddle with a clasp of his armour and was surprised again when he released his cloak and swung it around, settling the fabric over Aerion’s shoulders gently. It was warm, and smelt of the oils the knights of The Keep used to grease their armour, as well as something that belonged entirely to Duncan. Satisfied that the cloak would not slip, Duncan brushed one hand lightly over his cheekbone, pulling his hand away to show Aerion the snowflake he had brushed away.
“There was no mention of snow today,” Aerion said, looking away from Duncan and back out towards the city. “Somehow, it makes this shit heap of a city more palatable to look at.”
“Aye, it’s beautiful.” Duncan replied softly.
Aerion scoffed and tilted his head back towards the knight, watching as his breath huffed out visibly before him.
“I wouldn’t go that far-“ he cut himself off, finding that Duncan was still looking at him, likely had not taken his eyes off him at all. “Oh.” He felt his face become flushed with warmth, and buried it in the folds of the borrowed cloak.
“I’m cold,” he said suddenly, attempting to find his grip on the conversation. “Escort me back to my chambers?” It was not meant to be a question, but it came out as one regardless.
Duncan straightened to his full height, and Aerion found himself growing flushed again and hoped it could be excused by the cold. He brought his hand to the Aerion’s lower back but did not dare touch, simply hovered in a gesture that was simultaneously herding and protective.
They left the garden and reentered the castle, and despite the hollow warmth of the castle, Aerion felt himself shiver, becoming strikingly aware of just how cold he was. He watched as Duncan watched him and stepped closer, attempting to provide warmth through their close proximity.
The distance between them was entirely improper, their closeness becoming something that was reserved for lovers. In the late hour, and in general perhaps, Aerion found himself entirely unconcerned with propriety.
They traversed the castle soundlessly, and if Aerion was aware that Duncan was leading him on a more scenic path than the straightforward one he had taken himself earlier in the night, well, he was not going to break their peace, for once. It was still entirely too soon before they arrived at the doorway to Aerion’s chambers, the hallway empty following Aerion’s dismissal of his guard earlier.
By this time, it had begun snowing thoroughly, promising a heavy blanket by the time the sun began to rise. With this change in weather, Aerion found himself craving the shapes the fire would spit onto the walls, not fearing them.
As they arrived at the stone doors to Aerion’s chambers, he felt the phantom heat of Duncan’s broad palm lower, and the tall knight took a step back, the very picture of propriety and duty.
It took everything in him not to sigh heavily as he pushed the door open, attempting to not let too much of the heat escape but also not wanting the night to end just yet.
“Goodnight, Ser Duncan.” Aerion said softly, half tucked behind the heavy doors to his chambers.
“Goodnight, my Prince,” Duncan replied, just as soft as Aerion had been. “I hope you are able to find rest easily.”
Aerion nodded, and the knight took this as his dismissal, turning on his heel and beginning his trek back down the long hallway. In the low light, Aerion watched as he flexed out his hand and clenched it tightly into a fist, and was hit with the jarring realisation that that had been the hand Duncan had pressed against his waist a few days earlier, the hand that had grabbed his wrist in the gardens and brushed the snow off his face, and it had been the hand that had hovered at the small of his back during their walk back to his chambers, not quite touching. It was the hand Duncan had offered him as they descended the stairs, allowing him balance as he focused on not tripping on his own robe.
It was such a simple gesture, it would mean entirely nothing to anyone else. But to Aerion, it was enough.
“Ser Duncan.” He called out, slipping out of his chambers and down the hall.
The knight stopped in his tracks, turning around as his hand came to rest on the pommel of his sword. There was a small furrow in his brow as he watched Aerion approach.
“Your Highness, is something the matter?” he asked earnestly.
Aerion ignored him, coming to a stop in front of the taller man and pressing up onto the tip of his toes, hooking his fingers into the top of his breastplate to tug him down, their mouths crashing together none too gently.
Subverting Aerion’s expectations, the knight did not hesitate to reciprocate the kiss, hands springing up from his sides to clutch at the prince’s jaw and hip, tugging him in closer and tilting his head upwards in one smooth motion. Aerion released his hold on his armour and slid his hands up, looping his arms around the knight’s strong neck and let himself be kissed.
Their mouths slid together like it was the only thing they had been made for, their heads turning in sync as the dark hall filled with the wet noise of kissing and the small whining sighs Aerion could not hold back, especially as Duncan’s tongue softly began to seek entrance into his own mouth.
It wasn’t Aerion’s first kiss, but strangely it felt like it would be the only one that ever mattered. It was softly passionate, with Duncan sucking his bottom lip into his mouth briefly before pressing their lips together tightly.
They separated from the kiss at the same time, breathing into each others space for a brief moment before Aerion dropped back onto his heels and Duncan straightened to his full height once more. They did not speak, just looked at each other. Duncan’s lips were swollen and Aerion watched raptly as his tongue swept across the pink flesh. He still had one large hand cupping his jaw, thumb brushing back and forth almost unconsciously, and Aerion tipped his face more firmly into the hold and closed his eyes, his own hands pressed flat against the cool metal of Ducan’s chest plate.
He didn't know what to say, he could not find a single word to describe the way he was feeling. He wanted to run away, take Duncan with him, and disappear forever. To Summerhall, to Dorne, to Lys, even. It was a foolish thing to want, but it filled him entirely nonetheless.
“That was…” Duncan spoke suddenly before trailing off.
“Yes, it was.” Aerion said, nodding his head in Duncan’s hand.
The knight was looking at him, expression indescribable. Long gone was the hedge knight from Ashford Meadows, green and honourable in a way that annoyed him to the point of gratuitous violence. Aerion had thought that Duncan back then had worn his emotions and heart plainly, exposed for the world to see. He could not say the same about the Duncan before him.
Perhaps he did not know enough.
Duncan removed his hand from Aerion’s face and brought his hand down, pinching the edge of his robe between two fingers and pulling it back up onto his shoulder from where it had slipped down into the crook of his elbow. He had not noticed. The leather of Duncan’s gloves brushed over the exposed protrusion of his collarbone, causing his breath to hitch.
“You should go back to your chambers.” Duncan whispered, voice low despite the empty hall.
“Yes.” Aerion replied, making no effort to move just yet.
“I should go back to my station.”
“Yes, you should. You will.” he murmured.
Neither of them moved. The air felt charged, heavy with emotions that neither of them were ready to speak on, afraid to ruin the careful intimacy of this first encounter. It was Duncan who moved first this time, not away like Aerion expected but closer, leaning forward and down to press their foreheads together briefly. The action felt leagues more weighty than the kiss they had just shared, and Aerion could not hold back his shaky exhale.
“I need you to walk away first, my Prince, or we will never leave this hall.” Duncan murmured.
“Aerion, call me Aerion.” he whispered back, unwilling to label it begging in his own mind.
“Go to your chambers, Aerion.” The knight responded, his name settling like velvet on his skin. He released another trembling breath, and clenched his hands into fists.
He pressed upwards suddenly and planted a firm kiss to the arch of Duncan’s cheekbone before stepping back, turning on his heel and walking quickly back to his doorway.
He turned slightly, looking over his shoulder to see Duncan standing in the same spot Aerion had left him in, looking dazed with a hand pressed against the spot he kissed. He waited until the knight looked at him and graced him with a small genuine smile, the action entirely unpracticed and awkward on his face, and internally celebrated when Duncan’s expression grew further unmoored. He slipped through the door without a further word and pressed his back to it, resisting the urge to slide down the cool stone and form into a puddle on the floor. It was a long moment before he heard the metallic clunk of the knight's armour as he moved down the hall, and it was a longer moment until he could not hear it anymore.
It was with a sudden realisation that, oh, he still had Duncan’s cloak wrapped around him.
The very cloak was draped over the edge of Aerion’s unmade bed, staring at him, reminding him of what this was.
He had the knight exactly where he wanted him, and he would never be letting him go.
“I was going to ride your face into the carpet, but I believe that can wait until next time, yes?” Aerion asked rhetorically as he settled into Duncan’s lap, situating the man’s neglected cock snugly between his soaked folds. “You will fuck me now.”
Duncan stared raptly at the way Aerion’s pussy held his shaft between it, before the words settled over him and snapped his eyes to Aerion’s face.
“I- Is that wise?” he questioned.
Aerion’s pale eyebrow ticked up. “You are not in any position to question me, it is best that you do not forget that,” he heaved a sigh, and made like he was going to rise. “If you are not up to the task, I will find someone else to perform it. I hear my cousin has arrived from Dragonst- Oh!”
Quicker than he could comprehend, he found his position swapped with Duncan’s, his back now pressed flat to the soft carpet as the knight hovered over him.
“What in the seven-“
Aerion cut himself off with a gasp as he felt Duncan position the thick head of his cock against his small hole, forcing the tip in with one forceful shove.”
“Oh fuck, you fucking animal.” Aerion hissed, head thrown back into the carpet in a mixture of pleasure and pain.
“Don’t talk about anyone else when you’re with me, fuck, you’re tight.” The knight growled, grabbing Aerion’s leg to sling it over his hip. He rolled his hips forward, shoving more of his dick him.
He could hardly breathe, despite being relaxed from two orgasms and the stretch of Duncan’s tongue, it still wasn’t enough. The knights cock was simply enormous, bullying Aerion’s soft walls apart to carve a space inside of him. He tilted his head up from where it had dropped back onto the floor and stared between them, the scene before him ripping as moan from his throat. He felt full to the brim and Duncan was only half way inside.
“Kiss me.” Aerion pleaded, feeling desperately unmoored. The knight did not hesitate, pressing their lips together with a gentle fervour that gave him something to focus on. He arched into the kiss, wrapping his arms tightly around Duncan’s thick neck and digging his nails in, causing the taller man to moan heavily into the kiss.
Duncan’s moan was met with a bitten off scream as he shoved the rest of his cock into Aerion with one last thrust. Gods, he had never been so full in his entire life, stretched just to the edge of discomfort, the thick, pulsating cock inside of him greatly outweighing the harsh intrusion. His head fell back to the floor with a muffled thump and Duncan followed him down, pressing their foreheads together tightly.
It was unconscious, almost, the way his hands slide down from where they were digging into the knights heaving shoulders to his face, cupping it with a gentleness he did not know he possessed. The gesture seemed the wipe the tension clean from Duncan’s body, loosening him to the point Aerion was shocked that he had not noticed the tightness sooner.
He was utterly lost in the blue of Duncan’s eyes.
With a simple dry press of their lips together, Duncan pulled back, hitching Aerion’s legs higher around his waist with a movement that somehow pressed him even deeper, ripping a moan from both of them. He let his hands fall limping, dragging his nails down Duncan’s chest before resting them up by his head. The position caused his own chest to press outwards, and he watched as Duncan eyed his tits hungrily.
He rolled his hips lightly and huffed a soft moan.
“Fuck me. Don’t make me wait.” Aerion whispered, the words coming out weak and pleading.
Duncan pulled back slowly until just the tip was notched inside Aerion’s tight entrance before fucking back inside with a wicked snap of his hips. He repeated the action again and again until the room became filled with the wet slap of skin on skin. The motion was unpracticed at first, but Duncan slowly built a rhythm of harsh, rolling thrusts, each shove of his thick cock inside forcing the air from Aerion’s lungs.
“You feel so good,” Duncan moaned desperately. “Am I- Is this good?”
He could hardly breathe, it felt like Duncan was inside his womb, the tip kissing his cervix with every full thrust. He just nodded, unconscious ah ah ah’s falling from his open mouth.
Suddenly, Duncan sat back onto his heels, pulling Aerion with him and positioning his lower back on top of his thick thighs. He didn’t think it was possible, but the knight seemed to slip deeper inside of him, rolling thrusts taking a harder edge as Aerion’s back arched, hands scrambling for purchase he could not find on the flat carpet.
“Oh, oh!” The moan was ripped out of Aerion’s throat. “Right there!”
The new angle was exquisite, stretching out his thighs and back in a way that spoke of pain come morning, though they would hardly be the sole ache in his body. Soon the only noise that filled the room was Aerion’s own whimpers and moans, Duncan’s answering groans, and the wet slap of the knight’s heavy balls against the meat of his ass.
The grip of Duncan’s hands on his small waist tightened, almost in unison with Aerion’s cunt, as his cock rubbed up against something deep inside of him, spending lightning bolts of pleasure through him.
“Gods, fuck you and your stupid, oh fuck yes, massive cock.” Aerion whimpered out, he had never been this wet in his life and felt thoroughly ruined.
The knight ignored him, laying one of his hands flat against Aerion’s lower stomach with a befuddled look on his face before releasing a stuttering moan after a particularly tough thrust.
“Aerion, fuck,” he moaned. “I can see-“
“I told you,” he panted. “Your stupid cock, ah, it’s too big.”
“But you’re taking it so well.” Duncan murmured, running his hand over the small bulge in Aerion’s stomach. He could barely hold back his moan at the light praise, and wondered vaguely when he had lost the thread of control so badly, when this had shifted from being a performance to something so intimate. He could hardly stand it, the distance between their bodies suddenly too far despite the depth of Ducan’s cock inside of him.
“Hold me, you fool, fuck!” he moaned, feeling his eyes roll back with pleasure.
He found himself scooped up, sat on top of Duncan’s folded thighs as his thrusts gentled in their speed, but not their power, the pair syncing up the roles of their hips.
“You’re taking me so well, you’re so beautiful.” The knight murmured, pressing their foreheads together so they would breathe moans into each others mouths.
“I am keeping you,” Aerion whispered back. “You will know no other ever again.”
It was not a question, but Duncan answered regardless, releasing a pitiful moan , nodding his head weakly.
“‘m yours.”
“You’re my what?” Aerion purred, pulling himself from the brink of pleasure.
“Whatever you want, I’m your knight, your man,” Duncan whimpered. “I’m your dog, please.”
“Good boy.” he whispered, letting his eyes fall closed as Duncan’s thrusts grew sloppy.
“I’m going to, oh fuck-“
Aerion slipped a hand between them, rubbing over his clit with a viciousness that tore a high pitched moan from his throat.
“I’m so close, Duncan!”
“Where- Aerion, please, where?” The knight pleaded, voice desperate.
“Inside,” he hissed. “Cum inside me, Duncan. Mark me, make it take.”
Duncan’s breathing grew laboured, and Aerion could almost feel him thicken further inside of him.
“Make me swell with your child, Ser, I will birth you strong babes,” he whispered, voice like a siren. “Keep me forever.”
It was with one last jolting thrust to his cervix that Duncan came, a too loud moan spilling from his mouth as he pulsed deep within the prince. Aerion could feel it, the warmth spilling, deep enough that moon tea would be useless. There was no way he was leaving this room with an empty womb. The thought, combined with the way Duncan’s hand had come up to cup and squeeze his breast as he rode out his own aftershocks, sent Aerion spiralling into his own orgasm.
It was deep, rolling through him like a wave from the tips of his toes up his spine. It was soundless, his mouth dropping open and drool pooling down his chin as he dug his nails in harsh lines down the plains of Duncan’s muscled back.
They panted into each others mouths for a brief moment before Duncan pulled back and smiled at him softly. Aerion could not help it, and pulled the tall man down into a kiss. He had not meant for it to be so soft, so sweet, but in his current state, it was impossible for it to be anything else. While they kissed, Duncan slowly slipped his legs out from under Aerion’s lower back and placed him fully on the soft carpeted ground. He broke the kiss just as softly as Aerion had started it and laid down next to him.
There was much to discuss, much to plan, but that could all wait until morning, or perhaps until the next day, or maybe, until Aerion started to swell with their child. Right now, he could not bring himself to think. There was no whispering in his head tonight, and the shadows from the fire spoke of rebirth, not retribution. He rolled over with a soft sigh and Duncan’s arm was quick to wrap around him, pulling him close as he stroked his fingers over the curve of his hip.
Yes, everything could stand to wait a little bit longer.