Chapter Text
Chapter One
Why aren’t you opening it?
Dunk couldn’t read the fancy writing on the outside of the letter, but even he recognized the wax seal on the back. Recognized the three-headed dragon. Recognized this particular variation. The personal sigil for Prince Maekar.
And the maester had set the letter in front of Aerion.
The omega made no effort to reach for it. No effort to look at it, not beyond confirming that his own name was written on the front. Not even when the maester politely excused himself from the room, leaving their group to finish their breakfast.
Ten months, we’ve been traveling together. Five months since your letter to him went unanswered. Why aren’t you tearing it open?
“Omega?” Dunk probed.
Aerion didn’t answer. He picked up the last bite of his buttered bread and popped it in his mouth, washing it down with a mouthful of water.
Biting his lip, Dunk glanced at Egg, who stared at the letter in front of Aerion curiously. He himself had written to Maekar only last week, sending the raven when they got back from their trip to the Wall. Yet there was no return letter for him.
Like Dunk, Egg looked at his brother expectantly, waiting for him to open the letter and read it aloud.
“Aerion?” Dunk tried again, but Aerion ignored him. Ignored Egg. Ignored the letter.
None of that, Dunk thought silently. You’re not fooling me. You miss your father, whether you admit it or not. I know you want to tear open that letter more than you want air to breathe.
He gently reached over and stroked Aerion’s arm, unsure if it was a good or bad sign that his omega didn’t growl. “Do you want us to give you privacy?” he offered. “So you can read it alone?”
“No need,” Aerion said calmly.
He picked up the letter almost casually, his lovely scent neutral, with no hint of the turmoil churning within. Getting up from the table, he took one last swig of his water, then set the cup down and sauntered through the room, letter in hand. Calm as could be.
So calm that Dunk didn’t see him heading for the hearth until it was too late.
“What are you doing!” he cried, leaping to his feet a hair too slow. Aerion tossed the letter into the roaring fireplace with a flick of his wrist, as if he were skipping a stone.
Dunk seized one of the fireplace tools, plunging it into the fire after the letter, but the paper had already burst into flame, blackening and curling before his eyes. Ruined. Whatever message Maekar had sent to his son lost forever.
“Shall we head down to the training yard?” Aerion asked, brushing stray crumbs from his hands. “The hunting party isn’t riding out until tomorrow, and you’ve almost got the hang of that pivot lunge.”
“Aerion, that was from your father!” Dunk protested, staring in horror at the destroyed paper. “He sent you a letter!”
“Indeed, he did,” Aerion agreed, tone uninflected. “And had he sent it five months ago, I would have read it. But I no longer care what Maekar has to say.”
Yes, you do…
Even Egg didn’t believe him, staring at Aerion dryly. Dry…and with a hint of what could almost be called pity.
“Omega, I…”
“And I do believe, Ser Duncan, that you promised me you would not bring up Maekar ever again,” he said, glancing at Dunk sharply. “Did you not?”
“But I didn’t!” he protested, gesturing to the fireplace. “He…”
“Unless you plan to restore burnt paper, Ser Duncan, the matter is closed.” Aerion turned and heading for the door. “Now, am I going to the training yard alone, or do the pair of you intend to accompany me?”
Dunk hesitated, glancing at Egg again just as his squire looked at him. Neither knew what to say, either to each other or to Aerion. All the same, Egg’s brow knit with worry. Fearful, no doubt, of what his brother might do.
I can’t let him train alone. Not now. Left alone, his volatile dragon well may start breathing fire at a moment’s notice.
And so he relented with a nod, grabbing his shoes and tugging them on as he quickly followed his omega, gesturing for Egg to join.
But we’re discussing this later.
*****************
“Better, Ser Duncan!” Ser Jaren praised as Dunk successfully blocked his strike.
The graying Master-at-Arms drew back his axe and aimed another blow at Dunk’s belly, but he managed to catch the wooden blade beneath the handle and wrench it out of Jaren’s hands. And when Dunk pressed the tip of his training blade to Jaren’s chin, the man broke into a wide, toothy smile.
“Excellent!” he praised again, stepping back and clapping Dunk hard on the shoulder. “We’ll do some axe drills as well, in case you need to arm yourself with one of their weapons, but you should fare just fine against the Ironborn.”
Dunk smiled, hoping it would hide the way his gut roiled.
Don’t vomit again! he scolded himself.
Advice he would have to repeat in ten days’ time, when he would mount Thunder and join Lord Stark’s knights and men-at-arms when they rode for Deepwood Motte.
The trap was set; false whispers and reports that a shipment of expensive teas, silks, and other imported treasures would be discreetly arriving on a single fishing vessel. Allegedly, the Starks were conducting business this way to keep the treasures safe from the Ironborn.
But when the Ironborn arrived to raid the treasure, they would be met with naught but Northern warriors.
Northern warriors and me, Dunk corrected. Then, with a side glance to Aerion, he amended, And my omega.
Aerion’s armor was already polished. Sword meticulously tended to. Daggers at the ready. Each spike on his flail sharpened to a deadly point. The omega himself swung an axe at one of the Northern alphas here to train, landing a hard strike against his opponent’s armor.
“My father trained me with a mace as well as a sword,” he’d explained earlier when Jaren noted his prowess. “Switching to an axe only requires a bit of adjustment.”
I don’t want you fighting with a sword, mace, axe, or anything else. I don’t want you fighting at all. I want you here at Winterfell, safe behind castle walls.
An argument Dunk tried to make a few days prior, when Lord Stark announced the plan. An argument that died on his lips when Aerion shot him a withering glare. They’d yet to discuss it since.
Jaren let them continue training for another hour, then gestured for Egg and the other squires to collect the training equipment. “Go and get ready for supper,” he instructed. “And take tomorrow to either rest or practice archery on horseback. It’s not good to do hard training too many days in a row. Not right before leaving for battle.”
Dunk nodded, shoulders stiff and aching as he allowed Egg to take his weapon. Judging by his squire’s stiff gate, Egg was feeling it as well. He and the other squires had spent the day doing training drills of their own. Light combat, lifting, running, pulling, and most ominously of all, a lesson from the maester on how to field-dress wounds.
Gently clapping him on the shoulder, Dunk asked, “You alright?”
Egg winced, stretching some of the soreness from his arm, before taking the training sword. “I’m fine, ser,” he promised. Peeking over his shoulder at the other squires, he added, “It’s good that I’m training as well. So I can help you.”
Now that the fighting’s turned real.
Dunk didn’t want Egg to come any more than he wanted Aerion there. But that was a squire’s duty. Best he could do was command Egg to stay at a safe distance until the battle abated.
As Egg carried the sword, the tiniest trace of lavender and fresh spring grass touched Dunk’s nose, bringing a smile to his face before he even turned to see his omega standing there, watching his brother as well.
“He ought to stay here,” Aerion mused. “When the rest of us leave for battle.”
Dunk twisted, gaping at him. “You’re worried about your brother?”
Aerion sneered. “No,” he said sharply. “I don’t care. Not beyond the fact that my family will somehow make it my fault if he dies. I bring it up only because he’s too small to truly be a squire.”
Pointedly, Aerion jerked his head towards the other squires speaking to their knights. Egg was the youngest among them by at least two years. As Aerion noted, he was the smallest as well.
He managed a half smile, then rested his hand on top of Aerion’s head. “You’re small for a knight,” he pointed out, chuckling at the way it made his omega snarl.
“I am not small, you oaf!” he snapped, balling his fists. “You’re a giant. Everyone is small next to you!”
Dunk carefully stepped out of striking range, then raised his hands submissively.
“I didn’t mean it as a bad thing!” He quickly hid his smile. “I meant that height doesn’t mean much. You knock alphas on their asses all the time.”
Despite being small. And no, not just because I’m a ‘giant’.
Aerion rolled his eyes, still sneering, but at least he unfurled his fists. “Regardless, I think it would be best for him to stay behind.”
Dunk snorted. “You know he won’t have that. He’s blood of the dragon, same as you. And nearly half as stubborn. Besides, he’s earned it.”
And I think you actually do care about him. Despite your claims.
“Whatever,” Aerion sighed.
Dunk lowered his voice. “I don’t understand why you hate him so much.”
Aerion didn’t answer, jaw twitching.
“You clearly don’t hate Daeron. He told me the two of you were close once. And you were happy when Aemon said he was looking forward to visiting with you when it’s safe for us to go to Oldtown.”
“I wouldn’t say I was happy. Pleasantly surprised, mayhaps,” Aerion corrected.
That, plus his invitation, tells me you didn’t bully him the way you bullied Egg.
“So, I don’t get it,” Dunk finished. “Egg’s a good boy. Kind. Loves being helpful. Little wild sometimes, but he responds to a stern hand. So why do you hate him so much?”
“When did I say I hated him?”
“You must. What you did to him was…”
A sharp warning glare from Aerion stopped him. Dunk bit his tongue, remembering that they were in public.
“The only reason I can think for it is that you hate him,” he finished instead.
“Well, no one ever accused you of being intelligent, did they?” Aerion bit scathingly.
Dunk sighed. No, they didn’t.
“I just…”
Lip curled, Aerion growled, stepping back away. “Since I am clearly a vile monster, Ser Duncan, I shall spare you the displeasure of my company.”
Fuck.
“Aerion…”
But it was too late. The omega snarled once more, turning from Dunk and storming off in the opposite direction of their suite. Dunk started to chase after him, but he hesitated, glancing back to where Egg was still helping the other squires to clean up.
It’s not like I’m running off without him. He’ll be fine on his own for a bit. And we’ll meet up with him before supper.
But when he turned back around to follow after Aerion, the omega had disappeared from sight. Whining, Dunk sniffed the air, then started to follow his scent, but his feet stilled, mind whirling.
Alpha instincts clawed at Dunk. His omega was out of sight. His omega should never be out of sight. It was unnatural. Wrong. A wrongness chafing Dunk’s very bones.
Doubly so because Dunk had just hurt him.
What was I thinking? Today of all days! They would need to speak about what happened with Egg eventually. It was a conversation long overdue. But despite Aerion’s dismissiveness, the burnt letter blackening their hearth had burned his heart just as deeply. A fresh reminder of the pain of Maekar’s rejection.
And today of all days, Dunk had cornered him and made him feel like a monster.
But was chasing after him the right thing to do, or should he give Aerion some time to himself? He wanted to chase his omega. But was that what Aerion needed? He hadn’t had any time to himself since the letter arrived this morning. Maybe he needed time alone to breathe.
Life’s hard enough as it is. Why’d I have to be born so fucking stupid as well?
“Ser?” Egg called from his elbow, snapping him out of the spell.
Fuck.
Dunk cleared his throat, nodding towards where Aerion disappeared. “Your brother, he…he…”
Seven Hells, he didn’t even know how to answer that question.
Egg made a face. “He still thinks Father hates him?” he asked. “Even after what I told him three weeks ago?”
Dunk sighed, rubbing his sweaty hair. “He won’t talk to me about it, but yeah. I think he does.”
Shaking his head, Egg murmured, “I wish Father did hate him.”
He glared at his squire sharply. “That’s unkind, Egg,” he said.
Your brother fears that more than anything else in the world. Even death, if his willingness to fight the Ironborn is any indication.
Egg said nothing, his youthful scent spiked with anger, even when Dunk sank to his knees to look his squire in the eye.
“I know you feel like he got away with everything,” he said gently. “All his life, I know it feels like he got away with everything. And on top of it all, he was Maekar’s favorite. But true punishments are about correcting a problem. Your father did a good thing by forcing Aerion to learn humility, because he’s hoping it’ll help him grow into a better person.”
And sometimes, I think it might even be working.
“But withholding love is not teaching Aerion anything, and it’s not making him a better person. Inflicting senseless pain is not punishing someone, Egg. It’s just cruelty.”
Egg swallowed, his expression wavering. “And what if my father’s not withholding anything?” he asked. “What if he’s just finally seen Aerion for who he is?”
Then Aerion will always have me. Thick and slow though I may be, he will never lose me. And I’ll help him to heal as best I can.
Dunk clapped him on the shoulder, then rose to his full height. “Come. Let’s get cleaned up for supper. Your brother will be along when he’s ready.
When, hopefully, I can undo some of the pain I also inflicted.
**************
Aerion was not at supper. A fact that might have sent Dunk into a gasping panic, were it not for one of the other hunters.
“We might have a few new pelts coming in,” the hunter said hopefully to Lord Stark. “A fox or something got into one of the kills from two days ago. The princeling went out to set traps for it.”
It was enough to get Dunk through the meal. Not that Dunk had any idea what he ate. The food he shoved down his throat might as well have been tasteless lumps of clay, settling heavy in his stomach. Worse when he realized he might well have been eating something that Aerion had helped hunt.
I shouldn’t be eating while he isn’t.
As soon as he could reasonably excuse himself, he motioned for Egg to follow him back to their suite. When he crossed the threshold of their building and finally picked up traces of Aerion’s fresh scent, Dunk could at last let himself breathe again.
He’s here.
He took the stairs two at a time, with Egg hurrying at his heels. When he reached their suite, he quickly barred the door, bid his squire a hasty goodnight, then bolted for the bedchamber, flinging the door open…
Only for his heart to sink.
Aerion sat upright in their bed, reading a book he’d started the night before. Dunk tried not to let his disappointment show as he took in Aerion’s nightclothes. Aerion seldom wore nightclothes when safe beyond castle walls, preferring to sleep naked after the two of them made love. Wearing them was an ill omen.
These were not even his normal nightclothes, but the ones that stretched all the way up to the base of his jaw, covering his arms and legs down to the ankles and wrists. Constricting nightclothes that Aerion hated wearing, and that Dunk hated even more. Because they covered every mark Dunk had left on his omega’s skin.
You only have two. Can’t I please see them? he thought sadly. The ones from Aerion’s heat three weeks prior had all faded already.
“You weren’t at supper,” Dunk said tentatively, shifting his weight as he closed the door behind him.
“Well spotted,” Aerion answered, not bothering to look up from his book. “I thought I’d spare the Starks the distress of dining with a monster in their hall.”
Fuck me.
‘Monster’ had become a term of endearment for them, in a way. One usually followed by a kiss or a round of coupling. Aerion wore it like a badge of honor.
But today was different. I did not call him a monster. He thinks I treated him like a monster. When he was already distressed to begin with.
“I didn’t mean…”
“Very well. You didn’t mean it. You’re sorry. You want to fuck me because, monster though I may be, I’m still beautiful. Did I get that right?” Aerion turned a page in his book.
He sighed. “Omega…”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to take matters into your own hands tonight, Ser Duncan,” he cut in coldly. “I’m not in the mood.”
Dunk shook his head, then crossed the room. “I don’t want that, Aerion,” he said, turning to sit on the edge of the bed. “I want to talk.”
The instant Dunk sat down, Aerion glared at him coldly, gathered his book, extracted himself from the blankets, and crossed the room to the far side of the bedchamber, flopping down on their settee instead.
Dunk scowled. Brat.
Sighing, he followed him, kneeling next to the settee, which still left him taller than eye-level with his omega. Not that Aerion would look at him.
“You’re far more than merely beautiful, Aerion,” he whispered.
“Yes, yes, Targaryen beauty.” Aerion rolled his eyes. “I’d wager you’re grateful you stopped me from biting you during my heat. Beauty fades in time, and even if it didn’t, alphas will eventually tire of staring at even the most beautiful omegas.”
Dunk flinched, twisting his hands in his lap. “There’s nothing I want more in this world than to wear your mark in return. Aside from your hand in marriage, mayhaps.”
Aerion’s eyes stilled on his book, but he said nothing. No further barbs.
“I could barely eat without you there,” he added softly. “And I’m always hungry.”
“Alpha instincts.”
“No, not alpha instincts.” Dunk gripped the edge of the settee, not touching Aerion yet. “Because I hurt the man I love, and…”
“You didn’t hurt me, Ser Duncan,” he cut him off tersely.
Yes, I did. You just don’t want me to know it.
“I was an idiot then,” he amended. “The timing. We…we’ll have to talk about it someday. But I shouldn’t have cornered you the way I did. Not today.”
Aerion’s jaw twitched, caught between his urge to scold Dunk for alluding to the letter and the urge to pretend the letter didn’t exist.
“You are an idiot,” Aerion conceded, turning another page.
“But I’m not an idiot who would ever hurt you on purpose,” he vowed.
Aerion’s fingers stilled, rubbing the paper between his fingers. “I’m aware of that. You’ve had plenty of opportunities if that was your intention. You’ve even been frustratingly gentle with me during sparring in the recent weeks.”
Because I held you in my arms while you were in heat. Took care of you. Saw the sweeter side you pretend doesn’t exist, however deeply buried it may be. And the idea of doing anything to hurt you after that is unbearable.
Dunk inched closer, resting his hand higher on the cushion.
Lowering the book, Aerion finally turned to look at him, an unreadable expression in his eyes.
“And before you remind me yet again, I’m also aware that you’re in love with a monster. For now.”
Dunk smiled sheepishly. “Not a monster,” he corrected. “A dragon. And from what I understand, those bonds last for life.”
Lips twitching, Aerion shifted, his scent bright and happy. So much so that a teasing note touched his voice. “You’re not riding me, Ser Duncan.”
“Of course not, my prince.” Ducking his chin, he blushed before adding, “I much prefer serving as your mount.”
Aerion chuckled, at last setting his book down to brush his fingers through Dunk’s hair, nostrils flaring. “You washed before supper?”
Dunk’s cock twitched to life. “Scrubbed every inch,” he promised. You trained me well.
“Hmm.” Aerion scritched his fingers along Dunk’s scalp, sending pleasant tingles down his spine. “Call me ‘dragon’ again.”
Emboldened, Dunk at last touched his omega, letting his hand run up his clothed thigh. When Aerion didn’t rebuff him, he stared into those beautiful purple eyes he loved so much.
“My dragon,” he whispered, heart thrumming as Aerion shivered in his grip.
The prince smiled, scent flooded with happiness and arousal. He yanked off his nightshirt, tossing it to the side and leaving himself shirtless in the firelight. Two purple bite marks decorated his lean, muscled body, one on his neck, the other on his hip. Dunk’s marks. The sight rewarded him with a primal thrill.
Mine. He rumbled low in his chest, leaning forward and kissing the mark on his omega’s hip. Aerion hummed, gripping Dunk’s hair and tugging. All the permission he needed to hook his thumb into Aerion’s waistband, tugging off his pants with a hard yank.
Beautiful…he marveled, taking his time to kiss Aerion’s flat belly. The sharp cut his muscles. Took his time to suck deep hickeys into the velvet skin of his thighs, brilliant red on an ivory canvas. All the while, Aerion gripped his hair, hooking his legs over Dunk’s shoulders and rewarding him with soft moans. The sweet scent of his omega’s slick flooded his brain, and he lapped his tongue along Aerion’s balls, shivering at the taste.
Aerion impatiently yanked his hair, the hint of a growl twisting through his moans. And with a smile, Dunk obeyed, wetting his prince’s cock with his tongue before taking it in his mouth.
“Fuck,” Aerion panted, arching his hips while Dunk sucked him. “Mmm, yes. Good boy…”
Dunk swallowed, his omega’s smaller cock barely reaching the back of his throat as he sucked him. He gave Aerion’s ass a quick squeeze before slipping his fingers inside, the hot, wet passage gripping him while he searched for the spot that would make his omega cry out. But just as he brushed it, Aerion tugged his hair hard.
“Touch yourself,” he commanded, making Dunk tense. “Use my slick. Want to watch.”
Myself? His cheeks flamed, even with Aerion’s cock in his mouth. He wants me to…
It wasn’t as though Dunk had never done such a thing. Aerion was his first lover. In the years before they met, Dunk had no choice but to see to his own needs.
But it was a shameful thing. Disgusting. Quick and furtive, with the ever-present fear of being discovered. Not at all like lying with his omega, pleasing him with his body.
He wants to watch me. He said it would please him.
Dunk pulled back, letting Aerion’s cock slip from his mouth. “I…I…”
Aerion grinned, pushing back Dunk’s hair with his fingers. “Is my bold hedge knight shy?” he teased.
Dunk’s entire face went beet red, chin tucked to his chest. He scarcely managed a nod.
Aerion laughed, unwrapping one of his legs from Dunk’s shoulders and sliding back on the settee. “Well, I am not.”
Dunk blinked, peeking up. Wait, is he…?
His breath stilled as Aerion plunged his fingers inside himself, coating them with wet slick before taking his own cock in hand.
Gods be good, he is.
Aerion smirked, eyes locked with Dunk’s as he stroked himself shamelessly. Slow at first, then faster, twisting his hand and brushing his thumb along the head. With his other hand, he gathered more slick from his thighs, then rubbed slippery fingertips against his nipple, tweaking and pinching while he moaned wantonly. And when he came with a gasp, he brought cum-soaked fingers to his mouth, licking them clean. Never breaking eye contact with his alpha.
Dunk watched, eyes wide, cock hard and throbbing in his trousers, breathing shallow pants. The sight of his ethereal omega pleasuring himself rendering him frozen.
Fuck…
With one leg still hooked over Dunk’s shoulder, Aerion brushed his foot against his alpha’s hair. “Now you,” he said throatily.
But I’m not beautiful like you.
He wasn’t. But he was a knight. And it would not serve to be rendered paralyzed by shyness whilst his omega was so bold.
Slowly stripping off his shirt, Dunk tossed it to the side, then unlaced his pants, letting them fall around his knees, hard cock pressed against his belly. He slid his hand up his omega’s leg, pressing fingers inside him and soaking them in slick before wrapping them around his own cock. Even in his massive hand, it felt large, nearly needing his second hand to encircle it fully.
Just focus on him. An easy task. Aerion looked up at him hungrily, purple eyes clouded with lust. At the thrill of what Dunk was doing or the thrill of making him do it, he couldn’t tell. Nor did he care.
With one last deep breath, he began to stroke himself.
And fuck, it was nothing like touching himself alone. He stared down at Aerion’s flawless body, jerking himself furiously while he imagined the tight squeeze of being inside him. Boiling hot pleasure flooded him, exhilaration electrifying his skin until he gasped, moaning openly. Aerion moaned too, cock still hard as he took himself in hand again, drawing his own pleasure from the sight.
Aerion came first, eyes fluttering closed. He drove his fingers into himself again, snapping his hips forward and gasping. Twice, then a third time, breathily crying, “Alpha…”
Me, Dunk growled. Pleasuring himself while watching me. Wanting me. Dreaming it is me filling him.
Dunk ran his hand along Aerion’s thigh. Pressed his thumb on the bitemark on his hip. Then bit his lip, muffling his cry as he came as well. Streaks of hot cum shot from his cock, painting Aerion’s belly and chest, marking him once again as Dunk’s. A sight so erotic, Dunk nearly came again, pleasure coursing through his spent balls.
Aerion purred deeply, eyes still closed as Dunk’s cum cooled on his chest. “Alpha…”
Mine.
Grabbing Aerion by the hips, Dunk ripped his omega’s fingers out of himself, then lowered his head, replacing them with his tongue.
“Fuck!” Aerion cried, moaning as his hand found Dunk’s hair again. “Alpha!”
The sweet taste of Aerion’s slick danced on his tongue, intoxicating him as he lapped and speared it inside of his omega. Bringing him to climax twice more until Aerion collapsed against the settee, the leg on Dunk’s shoulder shaking and trembling. Only then did he draw back to look at him once more, the sight of Aerion sweating, panting, deeply satisfied and covered in Dunk’s cum. A memory seared into Dunk’s mind until the day he died.
Mine.
But a half second later, he blinked away the pleasant haze, remembering how Aerion hated being dirty. Dutifully, he rose to his feet, fetching a cloth and some water to clean them up, adding a splash of boiling hot spring water from the spigot in their wall.
He took his time, starting with Aerion’s face, to wipe away every trace of sweat, cum, and slick until his omega’s scent was fresh again. Aerion wriggled happily, thanking him with a quick purr. Even accepted Dunk’s kiss, lazily slipping his tongue into his alpha’s mouth.
“So,” Dunk asked, resting his forehead against Aerion’s, “am I forgiven?”
Aerion chuckled. “I suppose…” he fake huffed, making Dunk laugh.
“Gods, I love you.”
Aerion hummed. Still not saying it back. But he did allow Dunk to carry him back to their bed, tucking him in beneath the blankets. And when Dunk slid in next to him, Aerion fixed him with a brief warning glare.
“It’s cold,” he declared.
It wasn’t. The hot spring water flowing through the walls, combined with the roaring fire, made the room nearly too warm for the blanket. But Dunk said nothing, heart fluttering. Knowing what “cold” meant in Aerion’s bizarre language. Wordlessly, he turned over on his side, back to Aerion.
Sure enough, his omega snuggled in behind him, wrapping his arm around Dunk’s waist, leg draped over his hip.
“Only because it’s cold,” Aerion repeated, half growled.
Dunk smiled, not that Aerion could see it. Never mind that it was an alpha meant to hold an omega. Never mind how ridiculous they must look, what with Aerion being so much smaller than he was. Peace and safety flooded Dunk’s chest, lulling him.
“Yes, omega. It is rather cold tonight,” he agreed, eyes closing.
And I pray it is cold every night.
*****************
The peace shattered before the rising of the sun the next morning.
“Ser?” Egg called, knocking heavily on the door to the bedchamber. “Ser Duncan?”
The door was not barred, but the squire would never enter without permission. Smart beyond his years, Egg knew better than to take the risk of seeing something he had no desire to see. Instead, he grew increasingly loud, pounding the door until Dunk cracked open a single grumpy eye.
Aerion, oddly enough, did not whinge at being roused. Years of hunting experience taught him to be an early riser, and he popped out of bed with scarcely more than a yawn of complaint.
“Your squire wants you,” he muttered sleepily, pushing Dunk’s shoulder.
On the other side of the door, Egg growled in frustration, pounding harder. “Aerion!” he called instead.
Dunk smiled, closing his eyes and snuggling back into the pillow. “Right now, he’s not my squire. He’s your brother.”
“Oh?” Aerion asked darkly. “You wish for me to deal with him then?”
Fuck. Dunk growled, sitting up in bed.
“Hang on, Egg,” he called. “We’re coming.”
It was only as he tugged on his pants that he stilled, realizing that Egg had never once called for his brother while they traveled together.
Something’s wrong.
He hurried to finish dressing, made sure Aerion was decent, then rushed for the door, ripping it open.
“Egg?” he asked. “What is it?”
But his squire didn’t answer. Pushing past him, he rushed at first, then slowed nervously as he approached his brother.
“A guard just knocked on our door,” Egg declared. “The lookouts alerted them that a host is approaching Winterfell.”
A host? Dunk stiffened, mind whirling as he tried to remember where he left his sword.
“Greyjoy?” Aerion asked, reaching beneath the mattress to produce a dagger that Dunk didn’t even realize he’d hidden there. “The Last Reaver is bringing the fight to us?”
Egg shook his head. “No. Not a Greyjoy host. A Targaryen host.”
Aerion said nothing, eyes hardening, fingers going white around the dagger’s sheath.
Egg swallowed, then added, “A Targaryen host flying Father’s personal banners.”