Chapter Text
The sun was a merciless hammer. Aerion hunched over his saddle, complaints falling from his lips every few paces as the brown dye he’d used to hide his silver strands melted in the heat, dripping down his neck in dark, muddy streaks. He stubbornly refused to shed his fine silk tunic—one of the few possessions he’d been allowed to keep—and so he sat atop his grey palfrey clad in a fabric that did little to ease the stifling glare. His only concession had been to unbutton the collar, baring his chest to the slight breeze. In doing so, however, the jagged, fresh mating bite on his shoulder blade was starkly visible—a raw brand of shame for all the world to see, throbbing and stinging every time a bead of sweat rolled into the wound.
"If he faints from the sun, Ser Duncan, I am not lifting him back onto his horse,” Egg grumbled from atop the mule he sat upon, his straw hat pulled low to shield his eyes. "We could have been in Vaith by nightfall if not for his vanity."
Aerion didn't look back, but his lip curled, revealing the sharp glint of his teeth. "If the bald whelp speaks of me again, Ser, I will cut his tongue out and make him eat it in his next stew."
"Are you not both too grown for your quarrels?” Duncan said, his voice thick with weariness. He adjusted the reins of his steed, the great horse he called Thunder. “I’d have you each keep a civil tongue. We’re short on water, and this complaining doesn’t fill the skins."
Aerion turned his head, his curls sticking to his damp forehead. His violet eyes burned with a venomous, unadulterated hatred. "Do not command me, you overgrown brute. You think because my father chained me to your heel like a hound that you own my mouth?”
Egg’s face went scarlet. "He saved your life! They’d speak of your shame across the realm if Ser Duncan hadn't claimed you!"
"Quiet, Egg," Duncan warned, the alpha’s patience visibly fraying like an old rope. The oppressive Dornish air had turned Duncan's face flushed and dark, wetness pooling heavily under his arms. He seemed even more ill-suited for the climate than Aerion, and the miserable look of the giant lifted Aerion’s malicious spirits just a fraction.
They rode for another three hours as the sun began its long descent toward the rust-colored wastes. The crimson grit of the Prince's Pass rose in choking clouds, coating their boots, ruining the fine fabric of Aerion's tunic, and settling into the creases of their skin. Egg kept his distance, intentionally riding a few paces ahead, his small shoulders rigid with anger.
"Ser Duncan," Egg called out suddenly, his voice rasping slightly from the dust in his throat. "There’s a small settlement ahead. Just at the base of the pass. Looks like a well-stop for caravans."
The alpha squinted through the haze, and Aerion followed his gaze. A collection of low-slung stone buildings, plastered over with cracked, pale mud, huddled around an ancient stone cistern. A few scraggly trees offered a pathetic patch of shade, their fronds dry and brown.
"We’ll stop there for the night," Duncan said. "Get the horses watered properly. And maybe find something that isn't hard tack for supper."
"And a bath," Aerion murmured, his voice faint but still dripping with irritation. "I smell like a stable-hand's mattress. If I am to sleep in a hovel, I will at least do so without filth caked to my skin."
Duncan didn't answer. He just kept his eyes on the road, his broad shoulders squared against the weight of the prince's burning glare.
The settlement was called Hill’s Shadow, though there was little shadow to speak of. It was a miserable place, populated by sullen-faced goatherds, silent weavers, and a few low-born traders who had broken their axles on the pass. The air smelled of roasted peppers, sour goat’s milk, and the tang of horse dung.
As their small party pulled into the central square, a dozen pairs of dark, suspicious eyes tracked them—a giant alpha of a knight, a bald boy, and an omega with his chin jutted up, his fair features twisted with displeasure.
Duncan dismounted first, his boots hitting the hard-packed earth with a heavy thud. "Egg, take Thunder and Maester to the troughs. See what the stable-boy wants for a bale of dry hay."
"And my palfrey?" Aerion asked, staying atop his mount, his mouth downturned. One of the local goatherds stared openly at him, his mouth slightly agape at the sight of him.
"Get down, Aerion," the alpha said quietly, offering a hand.
Aerion ignored the hand completely, sliding down the side of the horse of his own will. Egg stepped up seamlessly, snatching the palfrey’s reins before the beast could wander off. As he did, the boy noticed the goatherd’s interest in Aerion's exposed collar. Egg’s small shoulders squared, puffing himself up, his small face hardening as he bared his teeth at the man until he uncomfortably looked away.
Aerion noticed. His lip curled in annoyance. "I do not need some alpha pup to guard my virtue.”
Egg only grunted, shaking his head as he led the animals toward the water troughs.
Aerion could not contain a small, sharp intake of breath as his sore legs shifted on the ground. He had been riding for days in clothes not meant for such a journey; his skin was raw and chafed.
Duncan turned his gaze toward the main building. "The innkeeper is over there. He doesn't look friendly." He looked back at Aerion, his voice dropping to a serious, low register. "You stay close to me. Don't look at anyone, don't talk to anyone. These aren't the lords of the capital. They don't know of your dragon blood, and they won't care for your temper."
“What did I say of making demands of me?” Aerion hissed. "A few weeks on the road and you think you are my minder.”
"Aerion," Duncan groaned. He let out a long breath, then grabbed Aerion by the upper arm, his fingers easily circling around the whole of his flesh. "I’ll not argue with you about this.”
Aerion pulled back, his boots dragging in the dirt as he fiercely fought the grip, until the giant sighed.
“Behave,” Duncan said in exasperation as they drew more stares from the courtyard. “And I’ll see to it that you have a bath.”
At the mention of water, Aerion ceased his struggling, grudgingly allowing himself to be led toward the threshold.
The entry room of the inn was dark and cool. A few traveling carters sat at tables, their conversations dying down to low whispers. The innkeeper, a scarred alpha with a broken nose, looked Duncan up and down before eyeing Aerion with shrewd, lingering interest.
"We have stew, bread, goat's cheese, and peppers," the innkeeper said, his voice like grinding stones. "A pallet in the common room is two copper pieces. A private room upstairs will cost you extra."
"The private room," Duncan said immediately, pulling one of his few remaining coins from his pouch.
Aerion sniffed disdainfully, for even this dullard knew not to leave him in a room full of dregs and local laborers. Even with the mating mark clear upon his neck, these base-born scoundrels cared nothing for propriety.
"And a bath," Aerion demanded, stepping forward. He looked down at the innkeeper as if the man were a beetle beneath his boot. "Bring hot water, scented with lemon oil if you have it.”
The innkeeper snorted. "The only water we have is cool, and there are no scented oils here. Why bother with luxuries for the likes of folk around here?” He grinned after he said that, and Aerion’s face burned with rage as he realized the alpha was including him in such lower-class ilk.
He opened his mouth for a biting retort, but before the words could leave his lips, the wooden front door swung open.
Egg stepped into the tavern, his small body weighed down by their bulky saddlebags. He took in the tense scene instantly—the innkeeper's mocking grin, Aerion's trembling fury, and Duncan's rigid posture. Dropping the heavy bags to the floor with a loud thud, Egg stepped up right beside Duncan, a growl rumbling in his throat as he glared fiercely at the scarred alpha.
Duncan immediately stepped between the innkeeper and Aerion, his frame completely blocking the omega, while placing a warning hand on Egg’s shoulder.
"The cool water will suit us fine," Duncan said hurriedly, de-escalating the situation. "So long as there's enough of it to wash the dust off. And we’ll take three bowls of stew as well."
The innkeeper eyed the trio for a long moment, then nodded, took Duncan's silver stag, and spat on the floor. "The room’s at the top of the stairs. Last door on the left. Best not let your pretty bird out of your sight, stranger. It’s not often we have things worth looking at here.”
Duncan made a low noise of agreement, before herding Aerion and Egg up the creaking stairs and into their quarters.
As soon as the door clicked shut, Aerion’s complaints flowed freely once more.
"This place is an insult,” he said flatly. He kicked the tip of the mattress with his boot, unsurprised when a mouse crawled out, twittering angrily at being disturbed. "A prince of the blood, sleeping in an utter shit hole.”
“Aye, well, I’ve slept in places worse than this," Duncan said wearily. Aerion could not tell if the fool meant it as an appeasement or not. "We have precious few coin left, as I’m sure you’re aware.” He scratched the back of his neck, giving Aerion a stern, reproachful look. “And if you keep glaring at every alpha from here to Sunspear, someone is going to put a knife in your ribs while I’m asleep."
"Let them try,” Aerion scoffed, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. The bite on his neck was itching terribly beneath the grime, fouling his mood further. "I’d have them gutted before they could blink.”
"Using what?" Egg muttered from the corner, dropping the bags onto the floor. He wiped a streak of sweat from his bald head, glaring at his brother. "You’ve got nothing sharp left on you save your tongue and your nails.”
Aerion’s violet eyes flew to Egg, flashing dangerously before his lips curled into a mean smile. "Hmm," he murmured, taking a slow step toward the boy. "Perhaps you're right. Let's see then, you little rat, if you can stand against me.”
Before Egg could reply, Aerion lunged forward, his hands reaching to scratch and tear at Egg’s face.
Egg jerked back, though the young boy had no need to defend himself. Duncan’s arm shot out like lightning, catching Aerion by the waist mid-stride. He lifted the omega clean off his feet, completely ignoring the stinging slaps and desperate punches Aerion rained down onto his broad back and shoulders. Duncan bore him down onto the bed, pinning Aerion's wrists above his head with one hand while using his other forearm to hold the omega’s thrashing ankles down.
"Egg, go downstairs," Duncan said tightly. "Go eat your stew in the common room. Stay there until I come get you."
"But Ser—"
"Go, Egg."
The boy looked at Aerion, who was still thrashing wildly against Duncan’s unbreakable grip, his fine tunic riding up and his silver-brown curls a wild, tangled mess. Recognizing the weight of the alpha's command, Egg nodded once, slipped out the door, and clicked it firmly shut behind him.
The room grew instantly smaller, suffocatingly hot. Aerion was panting heavily, his pale face flushed with heat and rage, his violet eyes feral as he glared up at the giant pinned directly over him.
"Let me up," Aerion hissed, his fangs bared in a desperate snarl. "Let me up, you brute, or I’ll—"
"You'll what?" Duncan asked, leaning his weight down just enough to stall Aerion’s frantic movements and assert his dominance. "There's no one here, Aerion. Just me. The man you're mated to."
Aerion flinched violently at the word mated. It was a harsh truth he’d been steadfastly trying to ignore since the day of his trial and being forced into this cursed union.
"You're acting poorly," Duncan said, scolding him as though he were an unruly pup. "You insult yourself by behaving in such a way.”
"Shut up," Aerion snapped, turning his head sharply to the side. Why did he care what this stupid, low-born hedge knight thought? "Shut your mouth, you beast. I hate you. I hate you more than anyone in this world."
"I don't care if you hate me," Duncan said evenly, his gaze unwavering. "But you will respect me. And you won’t lash out at the boy. Do you understand?"
Aerion turned his face further away, pressing his cheek into the rough, coarse wool of the mattress, refusing to meet the alpha's eyes. It seemed he could be brought lower after all. Stripped of his titles, his fine clothes ruined, and trapped beneath a common knight. He had no choice but to obey.
"I asked you a question, Aerion," Duncan said, his tone dropping, harder now. "Do you understand?”
If only the gods would smite me where I lay, Aerion thought hollowly.
"Yes," Aerion choked out, a single, bitter syllable squeezed past his clenched teeth.
Duncan let go of his wrists slowly, cautiously, as though checking to ensure the unruly omega wouldn't strike out again. Aerion didn't move. He remained pinned to the bed by his own despair, throwing his arms over his face to hide the furious, frustrated tears burning at the back of his eyes.
Duncan stood up, his towering frame blocking out what little light remained in the room. He sounded almost awkward, the harsh alpha authority melting away into simple discomfort when he spoke again.
"The bath will be prepared for you soon," Duncan muttered, adjusting his belt. "Wash yourself. I’ll try and ask around the settlement... see if there’s anything more suitable for you to be dressed in.”
Aerion didn't reply. He just waved a dismissive hand until the sound of Duncan's hesitant footsteps trailed out of the room, leaving him alone in the dark.
Not long after, an older beta woman dragged in a tub, leaving and returning with sloshing pitchers of water until it was filled. He sat in the cool water for a long time, the chill slowly leeching the fury from his limbs. Aerion leaned his head back against the splintered rim, closing his eyes as the dust dissolved off his skin. In the quiet of the room, the anger left him—he felt too drained to cling onto it. He traced a wet finger over the mating bite on his shoulder. The skin was crusted, a raised, angry crest that felt permanently hot to the touch. It was a brand that bound his soul to an alpha who had not even existed in his world a few weeks prior. How he wished they had never laid eyes upon one another.
A soft knock at the door broke the silence.
Aerion didn’t bother to submerge himself. "What?" he bit out, expecting Egg or the brute returning to torment him.
Instead, the door creaked open to reveal a young girl. She carried a bundle of folded fabric over her arms, stepping into the room with the light feet of a desert cat. "The tall knight sent these," she murmured, keeping her gaze lowered. "He said your clothes were ruined by the trail."
"Set them down," Aerion demanded.
She hurried to comply, leaving the bundle on the small wooden stool beside the tub before slipping back out into the hallway.
Frowning, Aerion stood up, water cascading off his hips as he stepped out of the bath. He reached for the clothing, but as he shook out the garments, his mouth thinned. This local garb was nothing like the structured velvets and silk doublets he favored. It was a pair of loose, billowing trousers made of a fabric so thin it was practically weightless, paired with a matching, wrap-around tunic of pale, cream-colored linen.
He held the tunic up to the fading window light. It was almost gossamer.
"The beast is a lecher," Aerion murmured with dark amusement, though he was not wholly surprised. All alphas were, even the one who pretended not to be. Duncan had told him to stay close, to keep his eyes down, and not to draw attention to himself—yet the brute had procured attire more revealing than that of a pleasure-house worker in King's Landing.
Yet, looking at his stained, sweat-soaked tunic stinking in the corner, he had no choice.
Grudgingly, he pulled the trousers on. They sat low on his hips, held together by a simple, thin cord, the fabric clinging precariously to the line of his thighs. When he slipped into the sheer tunic, it did nothing to hide the lines of his body. The deep V-neckline plunged low, nearly down to his navel; he had never bared so much flesh to those undeserving to look upon it before in his life.
He thought up an array of insults and curses to throw at the brute when he arrived, but as he paced the small room, the weightlessness of the fabric was, admittedly, a mercy against the heat.
When the door finally opened once more, Aerion turned on his heel, his jaw set, ready to unleash the venomous tirade he’d spent the last twenty minutes perfecting.
Duncan entered first, balancing two steaming wooden bowls of stew in his hands, with Egg close behind carrying the remains of his own meal. The giant alpha began to speak. "I managed to find some—"
The words died instantly in his throat.
The giant froze mid-stride, his frame locking up so suddenly that a splash of brown broth slopped over the rim of the bowl. His eyes went wide, flickering furiously up and down Aerion’s form.
Behind him, Egg huffed as he slammed directly into the back of the knight's knees, scowling up at his master.
Aerion drew himself up. "Well?" he sneered, crossing his arms. "Is this your idea of a jest?"
Duncan swallowed hard. The stoic alpha who had just pinned him to the mattress was gone, replaced by a thoroughly flustered boy.
"I—I didn't—" Duncan stammered. He looked everywhere but at Aerion now, his gaze darting to the ceiling, the window, the floor. "The—the girl at the well-stop, she said... she said it was what the local omegas wore. I didn't think... I didn't know it was so... so..."
So revealing.
Seeing the massive, towering hedge knight reduce to a bumbling, stuttering fool at the mere sight of his flesh did something miraculous to Aerion’s black mood. He could not help it; Aerion threw his head back and laughed, amused despite himself.
"You colossal dunce," Aerion mocked, the tension leaving his shoulders as he took a step forward.
At his approach, Duncan's eyes snapped back to him. For a fleeting second, the laughter died on Aerion's lips as their eyes locked. Duncan’s gaze finally settled directly into his, and the bumbling embarrassment in the alpha’s eyes hardened into something else—something unreadable. The bond between them flared, a current that made the breath catch in Aerion's throat and the bite on his shoulder sting with a fierce throb.
Aerion was the first to break the stare. He caught himself, his lip curling as he forcefully shrugged the feeling off, refusing to let the alpha get the better of him twice in one night.
"Give me that," Aerion muttered, snatching one of the wooden bowls directly out of Duncan’s stiff hands. He didn't wait for a spoon, sitting cross-legged on the edge of the bed and bringing the bowl to his lips, utterly ignoring the giant still lingering in the doorway as a sudden feeling of satisfaction flowed through him.