Chapter Text
The winter of the year of 189 was the worst Westeros had ever seen. Thousands died from the cold and if not from the cold then the disease and if not from the disease then starvation. And Daenora had thought that the City Watch would know better than to cause more chaos among Flea Bottom, but that must've been too much to ask of the simple minded men.
The woman stood above the boy, piercing eyes cutting through the two Gold Cloaks that stood before her. "Arrest them," she ordered and the two men at her back stepped forward, swords drawn and pressed against the armor of the Gold Cloaks. They at least didn't fight it, knowing they had done wrong. The Kingsguard that had accompanied her took them away and left the princess with the whimpering boy and the dead girl.
Daenora stepped forward, lingering for a moment before bending down, knees protesting. The rain always did that and the cold didn't make it much better. I'm getting too old for this horse-shit, she mumbled and reached for the corpse. A strangled cry erupted from the boy and he lunged for her. She caught his gangly limbs and tugged him to kneel in the mud beside her. "What is your name?" She bit out, fully turning to him.
Fat and wet blue eyes looked up at her, leaking with tears and rain and whatever fucking fluids children leaked. "Dunk." What a stupid name. He looked away and down at the girl, body shaking and Daenora realized he was sobbing.
"Friend of yours?"
"My only one," he whispered and then the unbelievable happened - he pressed his body into Daenora's, hugging the woman. She lifted a hand to push him away but hesitated. He was still too young to present but Daenora had always had a sharp nose. He smelled of the forest. Daenora closed her eyes and for a moment she was fifteen again, racing through the Kingswood with her brother hot on her heels, back when life was simple and better. Daenora opened her eyes and carefully rested her hand on his shoulder.
A sweet Omega. Left alone in Flea Bottom. She couldn't leave him here, her instincts were screaming at her to care for the little thing, tuck him close and put a sword to anyone who would dare hurt him. Dark Sister hummed at her side and she had decided. She stood, lifting the boy up with her.
"Princess Daenora," Ser Wode appeared around the corner of the alley, standing at attention.
"Bring her back. We'll give her a proper burial. Come with me, lamb." She directed the last part towards Dunk and the Omega bowed his head and followed the Alpha.
Daenora sat Dunk into the copper bathtub, the boy stripped and pushed around with ease. She'll have to teach him to push back so nobody can just force him into a bed - a real concern as she washed him, the dirt and brown finally scrubbed off. Milky white skin with kisses from the sun across broad shoulders, soft brown curls and his eyes. Gods, his eyes - bright and luminous blue that seemed to catch everyone's attention.
The Omega and Beta handmaids she commandeered all cooed over Dunk, petting his skin and rubbing floral oils into it and combing through his curls. Daenora stood at the bed, looking at the clothing options. Dresses, because that is expected of an Omega in the court. And Daenora didn't want Dunk to be too out of place. She looked up at him, still sitting at the vanity, the little maids still fluttering around, holding up silks to his face, to wrap his hair away in the veil.
"This one. This cut will do, have more made like this." The seamstress nodded, who then ordered Dunk to stand so she may take his measurements. Daenora twisted away and when the seamstress rounded her once more to adjust the dress she picked, Daenora turned to Dunk and approached the vanity. Daenora owned very little jewelry, what she had was more suited for Alpha's, fierce and harsh lines, blackened steel and rubies.
"Aunt Daenora?" She turned to the door, furrowing her brow. Bright violet eyes watched her from the door and a drowsy smile played on the soft lips of her nephew.
"Rhaegel." She approached the door, hiding away her room and her Omega. Rhaegel looked up at her, smiling brightly. His dark hair framed his face, long and undone.
"I saw the maids coming in here with all the bathing things, but you're not that dirty. Who's taking the bath?" He was Daenora's favorite nephew, sweet and gentle. Baelor was too intelligent and too much of a strategist, Aerys never looked up from his books and Maekar…well Maekar was fifteen and an annoying little shit. But he was like Baelor already, although he hadn't quite gotten his flames tempered the way Baelor has.
"I've picked up a stray, Rhaegel. Why don't you go to the kitchens and bring up some honeycakes, I'll introduce you then," she said, redirecting the young Beta, who immediately giggled and skipped down the corridor. Daenora turned back to the room, Dunk now in the dress she chose, looked at her with bright eyes.
A modest neckline, airy and light fabric, but dark crimson in color, Myrish lace decorating the neckline and sleeves, poofy white sleeves ended in thick cuffs with lace and had beads sewed into floral patterns upon the body of the dress. She nodded, looking to the seamstress.
"Excellent. As many dresses as you can manage, he'll need them. And every two moons you'll return to take measurements once more. He'll grow fast." The Beta woman nodded quickly and gathered her fabrics and left, as if she had never been in the chambers.
Dunk clenched his dress, biting his lip. His handmaids tucked his short hair into a soft white Lyseni silk, hiding away his brown curls and then they fitted a thin band of gold atop his head, holding the silk to his head. Daenora stared for a long while, eyes flicking over the boy, before she nodded, satisfied.
"Come with me."
"You will not speak unless you are spoken to. You will refer to him as 'Your Grace', nothing else. Your name is Duncan, not Dunk, understood?" Dunk nodded, trying to keep up with Daenora's long strides. "I am asking him to name you as my son and my heir. Once he accepts, you will call me Mother. You will be put to lessons to learn to read, to write and how to keep your numbers."
"And if he asks how old I am?" Daenora stopped and turned sharply to Dunk, who skidded to a stop, flat shoes slipping on the stone.
"You will answer honestly."
"But I don't know how old I am." Daenora tilted her head, staring down at the boy. "The best I think is eight."
"Then you will be eight." She began walking again and soon his steps started beside her and they fell into silence. Daenora knew her brother - Daeron would adore Dunk and Myriah will coo over him, just as all the other Omega's did. Daenora didn't see the appeal, but whatever kept the boy at her side.
She wasn't worried about them - she was worried about her nephews. They caused too many problems. Especially Baelor. Daenora stopped before the chamber's door, Ser Wylde and Ser Harlton standing at attention. "Is my brother available?" Ser Wylde nodded, quick and precise and opened the door, announcing her to those in the room.
Daeron and Myriah at the head of the table, Baelor to Daeron's right, his Lady-wife beside him. And Daenora's worst nightmare seated at Myriah's left - Brynden. Her half-brother was…different. He watched too closely for Daenora's like, he was the only one who could ever catch her unawares or outwit her. She didn't like that and she didn't like how his red eyes immediately flicked to the boy behind her, Dunk's eyes fixed to the ground and his hands clenching the coattails of her doublet.
"Sister! Have you come to join us for supper?" Daeron smiled at her and for a moment Daenora thought her mother had returned. Soft white hair curled over his face and his even softer lilac eyes - nothing like Daenora's harsh violet and stick straight white hair. Before she could answer, a grumbling sound echoed in the solar. Daeron's brow furrowed before he tilted his head, leaning closer to his wife to look around Daenora.
"Who is that wee thing?" Myriah asked, voice silky and soft. As she moved to shift in her seat, a gently tinkling sound followed her, the many gold hoops and jewelry she wore clinking against each other. Daenora sighed and stepped to the side, lowering a hand to Dunk's head, guiding him around her to stand in front of her.
"This is Duncan. I've brought him to ask if you would name him my heir." Daenora stared at her brother, watching his reaction. The other Alpha stared at the boy, before a soft smile played across his lips. Myriah, as Daenora expected, began cooing and stood from her seat, rounding the table.
Orange and red fabrics clung to the Omega, bright pops of color in the dreary Keep, that at least Daenora could appreciate from the woman, along with always knowing she was around with all the noise that followed her. Bells and gemstones. Daenora didn't understand Dornish fashion, but it suited the dark haired Omega. Dunk twisted his hands around as he looked up at Myriah, who bent and pinched his cheeks, purring and cooing. Then she lifted the boy, Dunk whimpering as he was put on the woman's hip.
Daenora hadn't thought to move, but her hand was suddenly on Dunk's arm, gripping. The room stilled as Myriah looked up at her, surprise alight in her eyes. Daenora let go of Dunk's arm, forcing her arm to her side, clenching it into a fist. Myriah tucked her nose to Dunk's neck, breathing in the fresh forest scent, one she shared with the boy. Daenora tore her gaze away and remained focus on Daeron.
Her brother smiled widely at her, amusement and mischief glinting in his lilac eyes. You are absolutely fucked, he's saying, trying to not laugh at his sister, at her predicament. "Having bastards, dear sister?" He asked, voice tight from keeping his laughter to himself.
"I have done no such thing," she hissed, fangs flashing in the firelight, "I picked him up after he was being accosted by some Gold Cloaks, who have, by the way, murdered an innocent girl." Dunk cut off his sob and tucked closer to Myriah, who cooed and rocked him, walking back to her seat. Daeron shifted in his chair, nodding, serious now. His eyes flicked to Brynden, then Baelor, then back to Daenora. "He will be my son." She stated, squaring her shoulders and resting her hand on Dark Sister's pommel.
Daeron nodded. "I will speak to Ser Humfrey about the City Watch. And Duncan," the boy looked to the King, blinking tears away from his bright eyes, "welcome to House Targaryen. You'll carry our name now, although my sister has little to her name but her sword and her wits, you are her heir." Daenora sighed, slightly relaxing before the door behind her burst open. She twisted, hand clenching the hilt of her sword. Maekar led the charge, red in the face with anger. Rhaegel followed and Aerys after him, nose stuck in a book. Rhaegel immediately hugged Daenora, who huffed and patted his head.
"Who is that?!" Maekar pointed at Duncan, who whimpered and wiggled from Myriah's arms, who mourned the loss and Duncan ran back to Daenora and hid once more behind her, tucking close to her leg. He was tall for a boy of possibly eight-summers, about at Daenora's waist, but Daenora was tall, taller than most men.
"This is Duncan," Daenora spoke, sharp and cutting. Maekar's mouth snapped shut, glaring up at her. Ever the annoying one, Daenora thought. Maekar, her little twin, Daeron so helpfully said after his birth, screaming and cursing this world fresh from the womb. Maekar, with the bright white hair and harsh violet eyes, Daenora stared into a mirror with every snarl he directed towards her. "He's my son. And you will treat him as such or Kinslayer will be my new name." Daenora snarled, fangs flashing and she could taste the iron from where she had cut her lip on her fangs.
Maekar at least had the mind to stay quiet, turning away. "Welcome, little one," Baelor spoke, soft timber rumbling through the room. Duncan peaked around her leg and gave him a small smile, before looking up at Daenora.
"M-mother?" She looked down and realized she could grow use to the pools of cerulean blue. "Can we eat?"
"May we," she corrected, tongue softening for her son. "Sorry brother, we will be taking our supper in my chambers, as I have done for the past decade." She tilted her head towards Daeron and guided Duncan back towards the door, the young boy holding her hand in death grip. Poor lamb is scared, she thought, hides it well though.
"You smiled." Daenora paused, looking back at her brother.
"What?"
"You smiled. Actually smiled." Daeron stared at her, not smiling or laughing. Not mocking. Just - sitting there, shocked and in awe. "Duncan is already changing you, dear sister. And for the good, it seems."
Duncan listened well, his Maester and Septa told Daenora as they stood before her desk in her private solar. Maester Luwin, a young man from some Riverland house and Septa Alyssa from a Northern house. Duncan had scolded Daenora for not remembering their names and Daenora made an effort to do so in the future.
"It's been two moons, is there anything else you two can comment on other than his obedience?" She snapped, putting the stack of papers Duncan brought to her solar on the desk before throwing herself into her seat, grunting at the sudden weight off her knees. Six-and-thirty and she feels like she's already in her fifties. Duncan, her sweet lamb of a son, came around the desk and kneeled beside her, putting his head on her thigh.
Where he picked it up, she could not tell, but he seemed happy at her feet so she just rested a hand on the top of his head, stroking over the soft brown curls. He wears his coif sometimes, usually when they must sit with the family, but during his lessons, his handmaids run a floral oil through his curls and do something to keep them bouncy throughout the day.
"He keeps his numbers well," Maester Luwin began, Septa Alyssa nodding with him. "He picked up reading much quicker than some noble children I've taught but his writing…" he trailed off and Daenora narrowed her eyes, leaning forward to the stack of papers, pulling the top one off.
A mess of letters, just enough she can read to see that it's his name, repeated over and over on the scroll. It got a tad neater down the scroll but was still too much of a mess. She sighed, setting it down and looking at Duncan, who found the carvings of the oak desk far more interesting.
"What can I do to help him with this? Outside of your lessons?" Because Stranger take her, she will not have her son unable to write his letters.
"Perhaps," Septa Alyssa spoke, voice high and pitchy with youth, "you can practice with him? Write down what you want him to write, so he has examples." Daenora stared at her and after a moment, the young woman cast her brown eyes to the floor, lips twitching.
"Fine. Anything else?"
"His sewing is going well," Septa Alyssa chirped, bright once more, "and he is doing well with the harp, although I think perhaps wind instruments would be best for him." Her fingers flexed where she held them at her chest and Daenora bit back a snarl. His hands are too big, Daenora could hear her say.
"Keep him with the harp, I want to hear the song he's picked to play for me at the very least." She couldn't help the snarl that climbed through her throat and the Beta's before her cowered.
"Be nice, Mother," Duncan said, soft and gentle at her knee. Daenora scoffed and shifted, petting his hair once more.
"Leave." She waved her hand and the Maester and Septa bowed low before racing away, as politely as they could. Daenora sighed and Duncan tilted his head to look up at her, chin digging into the fabric of her breeches. His hands came up to fiddle with the silver of her buckle, fashioned into a dragon's wing, before trailing up the slash of false dragon scales that decorated her left side, a dark crimson against the richer than night black of her clothes.
His dress today was more complex than his first one, bright red with gold accents, modest neckline and long tulle in dark orange - a dress Myriah had made for him. His jewelry had evolved in the past two moons, gold necklaces with sapphires and rubies, armbands with diamonds and emeralds, rings with opals and moonstones, hairnets with pearls and amethysts, girdles with garnets and bloodstones, earrings with labradorite and lapis lazuli. And his ever present jade bracelet - gifted to him shortly after his arrival at the Red Keep by Baelor.
Daenora nearly ripped her nephew's cock off for that offense, but Duncan had shown her how the carvings of it were of different flowers and birds. He had been so fascinated with it, Daenora allowed her nephew to live, with all his parts. But she did notice that not even his Lady-wife had gifts as expensive as a jade bracelet especially made and carved by Yi Ti.
Daenora loved her son, her little lamb, and enjoyed that her family took to him with ease, welcoming him into their fold - but she knew the dangers of a sheep within a dragon's horde. And she was at fault for that - the most possessive of her lamb. But he was her's, her son, after all - so she was in the right to snarl and snap at her family when they tried to take up Duncan's time. And take up his time they did, all of them.
Rhaegel sat with Duncan in some lessons, especially when he was playing the harp, her nephew swaying with the notes.
Aerys read aloud to Duncan, the boy following along in his own book, her nephew picking simple books for them.
Maekar always had Duncan sit in the shade of a large elm while he trained with the Master-at-Arms, showing off for him.
Baelor had more responsibilities than his brothers, but that never stopped him from finding Duncan to bother him.
Myriah and Daeron would steal him away from lunch or a snack, would take his measurements to get him more dresses, or have him sit in on Small Council meetings, which, as she thought of it, was perhaps were her son learned to sit at the knee of the Alpha.
Daeron, she snarled to herself but sighed anyways. Brynden was always away and here, everywhere all at once, but seemed to leave little gifts for her little lamb, freshly cut flowers, jars of seeds to plant in the gardens, feathers from particularly beautiful birds, and seashells that sat on Duncan's desk so he could trace the lines through them.
"What are we having for lunch, mother?" Duncan asked, his fingers tugging at the false scales, trying to pull one free. Daenora rubbed a finger over her mouth, thinking.
"How about we join my brother for lunch?" Duncan brightened and nodded, climbing up from the floor as Daenora stood and tucked himself into her side as they left her solar. And, as if ready to ambush her son, Maekar and Baelor rounded the corner, freezing at the sight of both of them.
"Aunt Daenora," Baelor recovered first, folding his hands behind his back, smiling at her and avoiding all eye-contact with with Duncan. Maekar was not as polished as his brother and stepped forward to reach for Duncan. The Omega smiled brightly up at him and took his hand, leaving his mother's side. Daenora chuffed and Duncan had the decency to look sheepish, but remained at Maekar's side.
Evil boy, Daenora narrowed her eyes. Baelor chuckled and then held something out to Duncan. The boy chirped and took what he had, Daenora tilting her head to investigate it. A ribbon that has been braided with red and black and attached to one end was twine, to tie it to something and the other end was - Daenora snapped her head to glare at Baelor, stepping forward to crowd him away from her son. Pitch black scales with the lightest red accents at the edge of them hung from the other end of the braid. From Baelor's dragon egg.
And a fucking courting gift if she's ever seen one. Daenora scoffed and tore it from Duncan's hand, snapping her jaws at Baelor and tearing her son away from Maekar. The Omega whined, the sound echoing through the hall and if Daenora wasn't his mother or was a weaker Alpha, she would have let go and allowed him to return to Maekar's side.
But Daenora was not weak. And she was his mother. And she took him far away from the offending boys, snarling and snapping, could feel her fangs crowding her mouth, too big and too fast. She knew her scent was drowning the hallways she stomped through and Duncan hadn't fought, whining and crying. If she turned to look at him, she would find fat tears rolling down his soft cheeks and that may break her resolve.
But she dragged him through the heavy doors of his chambers and sat him on his bed. She had been right, tears rolled down his cheeks, staining his dress with them but he sat still and rubbed the jade bracelet on his left wrist. She tossed the offending thing onto the table and began ripping through the vanity, where the other gifts from Baelor sat.
"Mother!" Duncan cried and she paused, clenching a delicate gold chain, one that had a ring for Duncan's middle finger and a bracelet to attach to his wrist. Fat opals decorate it, rich in quality and delicate shine and flash in them. A truly beautiful piece and something his wife didn't have. She put it down and turned to Duncan, who had crawled over his bed to look up at her, sobbing.
She approached the bed, reaching out to pet his hair and he threw himself into her arms, tucking as close as he can, nuzzling into her fine doublet. He couldn't reach her chin, couldn't placate the way most Omega's would, but he was her pup. His tears were enough to calm her, her blazing forest fire scent soothing to a warm hearth.
"Oh little lamb, I'm sorry. But this," she glared at the ribbon on the table, "is a courting gift. And you are too young and he is married. Baelor is being foolish and you must tell him no when he tries to give you gifts like these." Duncan nodded, sniffing and wiping his tears off on her.
"I will mother, I will." Daenora purred, tucking him closer and petting over his head. Daenora may have brought a little lamb into the dragon's maw, but she would be damned if she wasn't the dragon he rested within.
Baelor tapped his finger against the hard oak of his desk, closing his eyes as he thought. Daenora had torn their little bird away, stomping away with his gift in her claws. He understood Daenora's anger - or rather her possessiveness. Duncan was the cutest little thing to ever grace the halls of the Red Keep, even his father admitted that.
His bright eyes that stared up at you, taking in every detail of your tale - Aerys loved that, could have the Omega beside him while he read and Duncan would stay quiet, listening to the soft-spoken Alpha.
His gentle touch, tracing every part of your clothes, fascinated with the textures - Maekar used that to his advantage, telling the stories of his scars and Duncan would touch every silvery mark.
His bouncy curls that were perfect for braiding, perfect for holding flowers - Rhaegel will sit beside him in his lessons to do just that, braiding the brown curls and sticking fresh daisies and daffodils into the braids.
His soft body, slowly filling out as he should be with consistent food and care - Baelor would tuck him into his lap, feeding him the little treats he wished for.
His aunt had brought a bird into their horde and thought she could keep him for herself. He twisted the box that held his gift in it, a golden necklace with teardrops of rubies and garnets. He was going to give it to Duncan at supper, but he had wanted to give him the ribbon first, one that he could tie into his hair or keep on his desk. Had thought it would be a good gift for Duncan, in their house colors and some scales from Baelor's dragon egg, the one that sat in the brazier beside the hearth in his solar.
So Duncan knew he was welcome into their house, into their horde, one with the dragons, even though he was just a little bird.
A little bird that Baelor couldn't help but desire.
The door opened and his wife entered, carrying a book and plate with honeycakes and watered wine. She placed the plate on the desk and then sat on the corner of it, staring down at him, amusement and knowing lighting her dark blue eyes even darker.
"The whole keep could smell Daenora, what exactly did you do to make her so wroth, dear husband?" Baelor sighed, running a hand over his face, scratching the furrow of his brow.
"I only gave Duncan the gift we made, but she was furious with it. I thought it was a rather thoughtful gift, don't you, dear wife?" Jena smiled softly and shook her head.
"And this?" She touched the box he still held, "another gift for your little bird?"
Jena had been put off by his attention on Duncan at first, but the boy had a way of wiggling into everyone's heart and Jena soon wanted to put the boy into her nest to cuddle and keep. She even picked out a few of the gifts herself, the older Omega tucking gold chains around the boy's neck or bringing threads and beads for him to use in his embroidery.
A knock at the door and they both turned, Ser Wylde struggling to open the door before Daenora pushed him away, snapping at the Kingsguard. Baelor sighed, tilting his head. His aunt waved the knight away and slammed the door shut, turning to the two at the desk, eyes narrowed.
His father wasn't an entirely soft man, Baelor knew, but when you placed him next to his sister, it made Daeron look like a ray of sunshine. Daenora was a harsh woman, had always been, easy to anger and quick to draw her sword. Harsh lines made up the woman, taller than all the men in the Keep, eyes sharper than steel - Maekar wore the same look, always looking like he was eating something sour. Another reason Daenora didn't like his younger brother.
She ran her tongue over her fangs, still dropped and gums bleeding, even Baelor could tell from here. "Stop giving my son courting gifts, boy. It's extremely rude, especially to your Lady-wife." She hissed, gaze falling to Jena, who simply smiled at her.
"I made that gift, Princess," Jena chirped, turning fully and standing at her husband's side. Daenora's eyes narrowed further, before her expression smoothed fully, taking in the both of them.
Baelor admired his aunt, how quickly she could steel herself in the face of controversy. Had watched her deal with his grandfather, Aegon the Unworthy. Baelor loved his aunt, how quickly she would put herself between him and Daemon, or between his mother and her father. Daenora loved in her own way and Baelor knew he was pushing her buttons by gifting his little bird all the things he has.
"Is that so?" Daenora snorted, shaking her head, long strands slipping from her braid, fluttering curtain of white. "Even so, if you must give him such lovely gifts, wait until he's older," her lips turned into a sneer, "he's only eight-summers old. And if I find that you've gone against my orders, I'll rip your cock off and feed it to the dogs in Flea Bottom."
She twisted on her heel storming out of his solar, snarling at Ser Wylde before leaving the hallway. Baelor pursed his lips and Jena chuckled, taking a seat on the chair arm and wrapping her arm around his shoulder, pressing a kiss to his temple.
"I won't let her take your cock, dear husband," Jena giggled as he turned to her, brows furrowed at his wife's jape. "But perhaps…she is right. Your gifts are a bit much for such a young boy. They're much more suited for a more mature Omega," if it had been any other making the suggestion Baelor would think they wanted the gifts for themselves. But his sweet wife had a point - he could imagine an older Duncan dressed in beautiful gold and gems, pitch black silk over his milky skin and vibrant red to bring out the copper highlights in his hair. Highlights that Jena had pointed out - the older Omega loving his little bird and wanting to dress him in luxury just as much as Baelor did.
"Perhaps you're right, dear wife." He picked up the box with his latest gift and tucked it into the desk drawer, hiding it away. He supposed he could slow down, could pick out more gifts for his later namedays.
Maekar watched Duncan closely. The younger boy sat quietly under the elm, exactly where Maekar put him half an hour ago, threading black through a cream fabric, making something for his lessons. Maekar was glad he wasn't an Omega, he found their lessons so boring, but Duncan looked wonderful doing the typical Lady and Omega things.
Maekar approached him and Duncan looked up, dewy eyes brightening and soft smile widening. "Maekar!" Duncan flipped his hoop around, showing the Alpha what he was working on. A great black dragon breathing flames down onto a blank field, although Maekar guessed he wasn't finished just yet, and soon there will be screaming soldiers beneath the dragon. "It's Balerion! Septa Alyssa told me the tale of Harrenhal, so I'm trying to make that." Harrenhal, one of Maekar's favorite stories of his ancestors. "It's for you," Maekar couldn't stop the purr that rumbled from between his ribs.
Maekar bent beside Duncan, placing his head on the boy's thigh, looking up at him. "A gift?" Maekar puzzled, nuzzling into the silky fabric of Duncan's dress, vibrant crimson and sunset orange, the warm colors contrasting his milky skin perfectly. Duncan nodded, smiling softly down at him.
"Are you done with training?" The Omega asked, setting his hoop down on the stone bench and then rested his hands on Maekar's head, soft fingers tugging through the Alpha's hair, tangled from the training he had just finished. But before he could answer, rage filled the area, choking smoke and furious spice. Maekar lifted his head and turned just in time to see his aunt descend upon him, clawed grip clenching the back of his neck and tear him away from Duncan, from the sweet forest and ripe berries.
Maekar was thrown into the dirt and he recovered quickly, snarling and snapping at the older and bigger Alpha. Daenora snarled, fangs bared. They stood there for a moment, mirrors of each other. Daenora was Maekar, just better at hiding her truth. Maekar was Daenora, just better at rising to challenges. Like this one.
"I wasn't doing anything wrong," he snapped, pacing around his aunt, trying to put himself between her and Duncan. But Daenora did not bow, or bend, or kneel. She stood her ground, stepping closer to Maekar, refusing to put the predator between herself and her pup.
"I've already told your brother to back off and I'll tell you the same - stay away from Duncan or else your cock is going to find it's way into Blackwater, along with your head." She lashed out, whip thin words striking the younger Alpha. Maekar spat at her, fangs stinging from dropping so quickly. "He's eight-summers old and you're already betrothed! Your brother is worse, married son of a-"
"Betrothed?" The soft voice cut through the heavy curtain of rage around the two Alpha's and they both turned. Duncan was clenching his hoop and threads to his chest, gentle face fallen and eyes wet with unshed tears. "Why didn't you tell me?" He cried, tears finally falling and before either could answer, the boy ran away, pushing past his Septa, who followed after him, calling his name.
Maekar twisted to glare at Daenora, who was already staring him down, arms folded over her chest and disappointment layered over her face. "Look what you've done," she said, as if she was completely absolved of any blame. Maekar scoffed and lunged at her.
The fight, which was more of a squabble, which was more of Daenora grabbing his arm and twisting him, slamming him back into the dirt and her knee met the wide of his back, twisting his arm even further, looking to snap it from it's place. He screeched, snarling and snapping, trying to wiggle his way from beneath her weight. But for all Maekar's strength - Daenora was bigger, stronger and more experienced.
"Enough." Daenora's weight left him and Maekar stumbled up, turning quickly. His father, looking less than amused and his aunt, shrugging Daeron off of her. "What happened? Duncan found us in my solar and was sobbing profusely about how he's been betrayed."
Daenora scoffed and for once in Maekar's fifteen years, he saw a grin play over her face, for a short moment. "I simply informed Maekar to stay away from Duncan, as I did with Baelor, because Duncan is eight and he is betrothed. Duncan didn't take that information so well - my only regret is that is how my son found out."
Daeron sighed, casting his lilac gaze to his youngest son, before turning to his sister. "Yes, I can see how that can upset him. He's gotten rather close to my pups." Daenora rolled her eyes at that, shaking her head. "I can see if I can betroth Duncan to a Lord, if he's feeling left out."
Maekar didn't think his father would stoop low enough to tease his sister, but he supposed that before they are King and Princess, they are brother and sister. Daenora's gaze snapped to Daeron's, anger apparent over her face and just as quickly as she turned, she reached out, lunging just as Maekar had to her - but Daeron had all six-and-thirty years to learn his sister and easily stepped out of her reach, turning to walk away, chuckling to himself.
"You had better not!" Daenora screamed, walking after him, leaving Maekar in the training yard, covered in dirt, ego and body bruised.
Duncan curled up in his nest, poorly made, but the best he could do. His mother seemed to like it well enough, the harsh woman sitting at the edge of his bed, strong hand stroking his leg, soothing the best she could.
"Little lamb, I'm sorry that is how you found out about Maekar," she whispered and he cried more, twisting his body away from her touch. Daenora sighed, hanging her head low and her dark violet eyes watching him from under the curtain of her white hair.
"Is he happy about it?" He asked, tears staining his cheeks. He knew he would never have married Maekar, but of the four brothers, he was the one he liked best - Maekar was closest in age and always tried to get him to play with him, sword fighting or climbing trees. Baelor treated Duncan like a fragile thing and while Duncan liked to be fed by the older Alpha and all the gifts were pretty and appreciated, he didn't want to seem like a useless little thing. Aerys had no interests but reading and studying, which helped Duncan with his lessons. And Rhaegel didn't play the way Maekar did, he sang and braided flowers into Duncan's hair. If Duncan was a fragile little bird, as Baelor called him, then Rhaegel was also one.
"As happy as Maekar can be," his mother mumbled, frowning around her words. She was a lot like Maekar - something she hated to no extent. "He's not leaving, at least not immediately." Duncan sat up at that, blinking up at his mother. She shifted, lifting her head and giving him a soft smile, one of her biggest ones, barely reaching her cheeks.
"Oh, that's good. I'll meet his wife?" He crawled towards her, tucking his head to her shoulder, slouching hiss weight into her side.
"That's right. Lady Dyanna of House Dayne. Has Maester Luwin gone over the Dornish houses with you?" Duncan hummed, thinking.
"A bit…House Dayne sits in Starfall, right?" He could vaguely see their sigil in his mind, purple, if he remembered correctly. His mother's smile grew bigger, almost reaching her eyes.
"That's right. I'm proud of you, your studies are going very well." Duncan grinned and purred with pride. "She'll come here and they'll be married. They'll remain here for some time, but eventually they will have to leave. Daeron will likely give Maekar Summerhall, in the Dornish marches."
Summerhall, Duncan hummed, thinking. A new castle, Maester Luwin had said, founded just a year before and where the King and his family would go for vacation. Duncan whimpered, saddened at the thought of his friend leaving, but glad he will have someone.
"I hope Lady Dyanna is nice," he whispered and Daenora tucked him closer, rocking him in her hold.
"She will be. Now, come along little lamb. You need some food in you, can't believe that boy stole you away before you could have lunch."