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Aemond presenting as an Alpha was always a question of when, not if.
Ever since Aemond hit his growth spurt and took to training with Ser Criston on a nearly daily basis, the court whispered that surely he would be an Apha. The right instincts, that one, their grandfather would say, as if to assure their mother that at least one son would turn out alright, a little less crooked and soft. And once Aegon presented as an Omega just shy of his 21st nameday, all talk turned to Prince Aemond’s presentation; Aegon’s own presentation was an afterthought, something to file away when a political alliance needed to be forged.
He spent his first heat alone, burning within from an uncontrollable wildfire, roaring and leaving nothing but an empty ash in its wake.
And so Aegon seethed in two parts bitterness, one part something else entirely as Aemond grew, all sharp edges, silky hair, pale beauty and untethered danger that was always just out of Aegon’s reach. Aemond treated Aegon no differently once Aegon presented, still maintaining an air of disapproval and smugness that made Aegon want to kiss punch off his face. Once Aemond eventually presented, Aegon knew he’d become even more unbearable, all cocky Alpha condescension toward his lowly Omega big brother.
Any day now, Aegon would think as court ladies swarmed to watch Aemond train. My fate will be sealed.
—--
Aegon doesn’t consider himself a particularly religious man, but if the gods exist, they have a funny sense of humor.
—--
A dull ache presses against his skull as he makes his way to the dining room to join his family for their morning meal, the one mother insists on these days. Aegon’s still scrubbing the sleep from his eyes as he rounds the corner to the dining room, sucking in a deep breath as he prepares himself for yet another day of false pleasantries and bullshit.
It’s then that he’s hit by it - a wave of earth, smoke, flared with spice that knocks into him like a punch to the gut, mouth filling with saliva.
Before he can process the scent, he’s shoved against the wall, and he snarls as his back collides against the stone, baring his little fangs because who the fuck dares to accost him? When he gains his wits back to look upon his attacker’s face, he goes rigid.
Aemond.
Aemond with his silver hair haphazard spilling over his face, shoulders heaving with ragged power.
His singular eye, gleaming manic, gleaming gold.
Alpha.
Aegon means to fight back, to throw his brother off him, but that tantalizing scent is back, curling around Aegon like a comforting blanket and stoking the flame in his belly. The scent (Aemond’s scent, his mind reminds him) - it’s not dominating, not intimidating, but something darker still, something reflected in his golden eye.
It’s hungry.
Logically, Aegon knows he should tell Aemond to get off him and stop flaring his scent like the out-of-control baby Alpha he is, but the words get stuck on his tongue like honey. Aegon swallows heavily as his hindbrain begins screaming at him like it never has before. Irritation is drowned out by need, an instinct he didn’t even know he had to submit, submit to Alpha. The fight leaves his body as he relaxes against the stone wall, limp in surrender, head dropping against the wall to expose the pale column of his throat. He shouldn’t, but it feels so good, so right, and when Aemond crowds closer, Aegon scarcely recognizes the hitch in his voice as he mewls a distinctly Omega sound. Aemond answers with a soft growl, throaty and pleased, and sparks go off in Aegon’s brain because yes, Alpha is pleased, this is good.
Aegon shudders when Aemond’s nose brushes against his cheek, an experimental touch. Seemingly satisfied, Aemond rubs his cheek against Aegon’s in a slow, heady slide that has Aegon panting, one hand coming up to desperately grab Aemond’s shoulder and bring him closer. Another growl rumbles in Aemond’s throat as he tucks his head in the crook Aegon’s neck, taking a deep, heavy breath where his scent is the strongest. Aegon feels his lips moving but can’t form words, can only tip his head back farther, baring more of himself for his brother to nuzzle against. Warm lips brush along Aegon’s scent glands and Aegon nearly sobs at the intensity of the heat and pleasure that shoots down his spine, clouding his mind of all intelligent thought. All he can think is yes and please and fuck me as he scrambles to hitch a leg around Aemond’s waist, body begging for something that Aegon doesn’t even know. The first beads of slick well at his entrance to sweeten the pleas of his soft, needy sounds, and he should be embarrassed by this pathetic display, but he can’t be when Aemond is growling and slowly dragging his teeth against his scent glands, so close, claim me claim me -
Until strong arms pull Aemond away from him.
Aegon whines at the loss of contact, voice shrill as Aemond snarls like a mad dog, trying to free himself from the grip of the kingsguard. The distance does little to clear Aegon’s mind, but he can make out the forms of Mother and Ser Criston in the back. Mother’s exuding a calming scent, one she’d always use when she found Aegon in a disheveled, self-destructive state, and it does help lift a little of the fog in his brain. Aemond’s still growling and thrashing like a beast, and Aegon hazily watches as Ser Criston steps up and shoves a rag against Aemond’s face. Whatever substance on the rag seems to take hold quickly, and the wild golden hue of Aemond’s eye returns to its pretty violet as he comes back to himself.
The last thing Aegon remembers before being whisked away by guards is the wide-eyed look of horror on his brother’s face.
—-
It takes the better part of two hours for Aegon to calm down, and when he does, he’s left restless and agitated.
He’s sitting on his bed, slowly massaging his temples as he tries to process what happened this morning. Aemond is an Alpha. That’s fine. Aegon knew he would become an Alpha, everyone knew. But that doesn’t explain the way his instincts went absolutely haywire the second he inhaled Aemond’s scent, not to mention the way Aemond pounced on Aegon in the first place.
Maybe it was all just a coincidence, a chemical misunderstanding. Newly presented Alphas and Omegas did not immediately go into rut and heat respectively, but that didn’t mean they were unaffected by the hormone rush. When he presented, Aegon spent three days in his room sweating and cramping in what the maesters call a false heat - his body “blooming” like he’s a fucking flower in preparation for his real heat, which came two weeks after. Aemond probably fell into a false rut when he presented, and Aegon happened to be the first Omega he came across, so he lost control of himself. That makes sense.
Except it doesn’t, his newly returned logic insists. Aemond would have come across Omega servants before finding Aegon, ones who were surely more proper and alluring to a baby Alpha. And as for Aegon? Well, he’s been around enough Alphas in the kingsguard to know what they smell like, and even when their emotions are volatile, none have ever made him want to get to his hands and knees and present himself like a whore the way he felt surrounded by Aemond. A month ago, he even accidentally stumbled upon a knight fighting the early symptoms of rut. The knight smelled good, yes, enough for Aegon’s scent glands to give an interested throb and his inner Omega to perk its head up, but he never lost control of himself, never felt like he should be claimed and owned by that knight.
Because that’s what it came down to, Aegon thinks morosely. For whatever reason, Aegon’s inner Omega seemed to think that Aemond was his and he was Aemond’s.
When he was very small, the nursemaids used to tell him and his siblings about the fabled fated mates - lovers who were marked by the gods as belonging to each other. Once they met, no force on earth could keep them apart. Aegon had snorted then and does now, dismissing the stories as something that simpering little Omegas told themselves to help them sleep at night. Chemical attraction? That he could believe. Even if Aemond somehow did genuinely find Aegon’s citrus scent appealing, it’s a simple coincidence. He’ll find other Omegas whose scents smell just as delectable, if not more so, in time.
The thought makes Aegon’s chest constrict in ways that he cannot allow. Lucky, then, that he’s well-versed in ignoring his deepest desires, just the same as everyone ignores him: like if you pretend for long enough, they’ll simply fade away.
He’s considering pulling out his extra bottle of wine and drinking until he falls asleep when a commotion outside his chambers catches his attention. Aegon sits up straighter, straining to hear the posted guards’ muffled voices. Whoever they’re arguing with is persistent, and soon their voices ring out louder as the argument escalates. Angry voices and drawn weapons, and then, like the first light of dawn that cuts through the night, a familiar growl.
Aemond, he realizes with a rush, and he’s on his feet before he can think better of it. His heart pounds in his ears as his inner Omega starts clawing from within, because Aemond is here, he’s here, and the guards are keeping him from you -
Later, Aegon will deny ever making the deep, desperate whine that rips itself from his throat, unbidden. He slaps a hand over his mouth the second his voice trails off, flushing red from humiliation. An Omega distress call, his waning sanity mocks him, really, you’re that pathetic? Apparently he is, because Aemond gives an answering snarl and Aegon can hardly bite back another Omegan cry as he takes a shaky step forward, body in autopilot, a slave to his most basic instincts.
There’s the slump of bodies hitting the ground, and then Aemond barges into Aegon’s chamber like a king coming to conquer. Aegon’s knees nearly give out beneath the force of his stare, but he has enough of his wits about him to stand still and meet his brother’s gaze. Once the door shuts, Aemond blinks like he has no idea where he is or what he’s doing. Perhaps he doesn’t, and that’s enough Aegon to feel cautious and push back against his stupid instincts.
“You shouldn’t be here,” Aegon says, and he’s proud that his voice, though raspy, doesn’t stutter on the syllables.
Aemond blinks again, head tilting a fraction to the side as if to consider those words. He disregards them carelessly, and the second he steps forward, Aegon bares his fangs and hisses, an ugly sound of warning. Aemond jolts in response, eye widening like he’s been slapped. Good, Aegon thinks, pointed canines still flashed, he should be nervous. At least now he’s not the only one out of his depth.
For a while, they just look at each other, bright blue against and gold. Aegon supposes he understands Aemond’s confusion; Aegon had been begging him like a maiden in distress just a moment before. The worst part? A part of Aegon still wants to cry out to his little brother until he comes closer and makes the emptiness go away. The way he should be, chips in his Omega instinct.
Aegon watches as Aemond licks his lips in thought, an innocent gesture that sends Aegon’s blood rushing south. Seven hells.
“Aegon,” Aemond starts, “I ca-”
“Don’t,” Aegon barks, cutting Aemond off. “Whatever you came here to say, brother, just don’t.”
The words come out less of a command and more a plea. Aemond, for once, doesn’t argue. He simply looks at Aegon through pained eyes, like he’s doing everything that he can to war against instinct, and isn’t that a relatable feeling? Aegon feels his body sway forward on that same growing, gnawing instinct, compelling him to give his body what it wants and be closer to Aemond. And oh, if Aegon thought this morning’s encounter was a coincidence, the thought is burned into nothingness as Aemond stares at him like he's a meal and his scent flares again, so rich and enticing that Aegon can taste it on his tongue.
It tastes good, Aegon thinks. It tastes like home.
Aemond approaches slowly but with intent, each step falling with purpose and whittling away Aegon’s defenses. We shouldn’t, Aegon thinks as Aemond draws closer, handsome and striking, his brother has always been so beautiful. We shouldn’t.
And yet, when Aemond reaches out to him, Aegon meets him halfway.
Their fingers tangle as Aemond crowds his way into Aegon’s space again, pupil dilated and breathing ragged. When Aemond licks his lips in a decidedly less innocent fashion, Aegon finally gives in to the instinct and allows his head to roll back, revealing his throat.
Aemond is on him in a flash, and as he pulls their bodies flush against each other, Aegon exhales a shaky sigh as relief washes over him like a wave. He can’t believe he thought to deny himself of this, this fulfilling completion like he’s finally whole. You needed this, needed him. And maybe it’s true; as soon as they’re touching, all his earlier agitation settles, leaving only a deep sense of rightness and no small amount of affection. Aegon leans into Aemond’s sturdy body, sighing again when Aemond noses against Aegon’s messy hair and wraps an arm around his waist. Shifting to allow Aemond room to nuzzle and mouth against his forehead, Aegon closes his eyes as the first pang of arousal stabs him in the belly, drifting lower still until his cock presses against the confines of his trousers. Aemond’s reaction is immediate, chest vibrating with a hungry, rumbling growl that Aegon feels more than hears. Lips and teeth drag across Aegon’s jaw with a new fervor, and Aegon is helpless but to cling to Aemond’s shoulders, drunk on pleasure.
The first brush of Aemond’s tongue on his neck has Aegon choking, hands grappling Aemond’s shoulders hard enough to bruise. Aemond hums, pleased, and when he closes his lips around one swollen scent gland and sucks, Aegon doesn’t even try to smother his loud, needy moan. His body trembles, sweat beginning to dart on his brow as Aemond moves to the other side of his neck. Aemond presses open-mouthed kisses at the unmarred flesh that make Aegon keen, and his body responds with a familiar rush of slick. Aemond must smell his arousal as he chokes something that sounds like gods against Aegon’s throat, and then he’s manhandling Aegon back onto his bed.
Their first kiss is nothing more than a brutal crushing of their lips, all desire and need. Aegon opens his mouth to Aemond’s imploring tongue, and a fresh wave of fuzziness grows in Aegon’s mind as he submits to the hunger in his brother’s kiss, allowing him to do as he pleases. One kiss becomes two, and Aegon growls into Aemond’s mouth and starts mindlessly clawing at his clothes. Aemond breaks the kiss only to work on shedding both their clothes, a feat which takes longer than usual due to Aemond’s need to swoop in for another filthy kiss with each layer he removes.
When they finally lie naked, Aegon’s mouth goes dry.
He’s seen Aemond’s cock before, but that was before he became an Alpha. Now, Aegon feels himself nearly drooling while staring at the thick cock before him, tracing the angry, ruddy head glistening with shiny liquid. Slick leaks more readily from Aegon’s hole just looking at it, and he feels another whine build up in the back of his throat, frustrated and demanding. He needs that inside him, and he needs it now.
Maybe he spoke out loud because Aemond huffs in amusement and props up Aegon’s legs, exposing his slick hole to his greedy gaze. Before Aegon can feel embarrassed, Aemond nudges two fingers inside him without fanfare, and Aegon groans and curses as his body all but sucks Aemond inside. Aemond makes quick work of stretching Aegon, impatience driving them both. Withdrawing his fingers, Aemond makes a show of looking right at Aegon when he brings his sticky fingers to his lips, tongue licking off the stringy strands of arousal like a cat with cream. It’s the filthiest fucking thing Aegon has ever seen, and Aegon nearly comes at the sight.
Aemond grips Aegon’s hips and pulls him forward until Aegon can properly wrap his legs around his waist. The rough knob of Aemond’s cock nudges against Aegon’s gasp, and just that feels utterly divine, a far greater pleasure than any he’s found in the brothels of his youth. Aemond drapes himself over Aegon, nipping at his shoulder and jaw as he slides inside his brother’s wet, eager body.
It’s far too much and not nearly enough. Aegon’s never felt so full in his life, and he shamelessly groans his pleasure to the ceiling as Aemond starts fucking him in earnest. Aegon’s body is hungry for it, his hole so wet that it squelches as Aemond fucks him with deep, even strokes that make the bed shake. Aegon’s cheeks burn in embarrassment, turning darker still as Aemond mouths at his ear and purrs, “You’re so wet.”
All Aegon can do is sob, nod his head frantically because he is, he’s absolutely dripping with it and he feels like he’ll combust with the way Aemond’s fucking him like his life depends on it. Aegon’s hands are constantly on the move, clawing Aemond’s shoulders, scratching over the back of neck, tangling in his hair, anything to touch him, Aemond, Alpha, Alpha. Aemond answers each call, spoken and unspoken alike, maintaining a quiet growl as he burns a possessive trail across Aegon’s neck and shoulder with his hand. He gropes Aegon’s chest, twisting his nipples until Aegon’s eyes roll back in his head with a hoarse growl, mouth slack and panting.
His pleasure quickly nears its peak. Aegon tries to delay it, never wanting this moment to end because he knows he’ll never feel this good again, not even close. He catches Aemond’s eye, dark and wild, and allows himself to think maybe you can keep him.
Aegon holds Aemond’s gaze as he slowly but purposefully cranes his head to the side, jutting his throat toward Aemond’s reddened mouth. When Aemond’s eye drifts to the juncture of shoulder and neck, right where a mating bite would go, Aegon’s brain whites out with pure instinct and adrenaline because yes yes, he understands, good Alpha. Tears well in his eyes as he chokes on desperate pleas, “Do it, Aemond, do it, bite me, come on, please, Alpha.”
Aemond groans like he’s in pain, thrusts growing choppy until the swell of his burgeoning knot catches on Aegon’s soaked rim. A few more thrusts and Aemond comes with a growl, and the feeling of his brother pumping him full is enough to send Aegon over the edge. He shakes through his orgasm, whining as he tries to pull Aemond to his throat, needing his bite.
A calloused hand takes Aegon’s jaw, and for a moment, Aegon smiles, delirious with it -
And then Aemond turns Aegon’s neck away from him, and his smile is swallowed by the sting of rejection, cheeks burning from hot fallen tears.
Alpha doesn’t want you, his Omega laments as he tries and miserably fails at swallowing back more tears. You fool, you knew he didn’t really want you. Before he can follow that spiral, Aemond’s scent goes from scorching to soothing, more petrichor than magma. Lips press to Aegon’s brow, and Aegon closes his eyes, clinging to the comforting spice of Aemond’s scent as he gets himself together.
Aemond maneuvers their joined bodies until they’re both a little more comfortable, and by the time they’re settled, Aegon’s stopped his pitiful crying. A growl bubbles in his throat when Aemond tries kissing his brow again; just because they’re stuck together doesn’t mean Aegon has to accept Aemond’s affection, especially not after denying Aegon the biting mark he begged for.
Gods. If it weren’t physically impossible, Aegon would throw himself from the nearest window to spare himself the humiliation.
“We should talk about this,” Aemond says, though he hardly sounds thrilled at the prospect.
At least that makes two of them.
Aegon snorts, keeping his eyes closed. “Since when do we talk about anything?”
“Since my cock’s been jammed in your ass and will be there for another half hour,” Aemond replies easily, sounding all smart and mature. Aegon’s lips twitch, barely resisting the urge to flash his fangs. Annoying prick.
Knowing he can’t run from his fate, he heaves a sigh and slumps in the increasingly soggy sheets. “Fine.”
A weight pause follows. Right when Aegon opens his eyes to yell at Aemond to get on with it, he sees the look in Aemond’s eye and thinks better of it. Instead of seeing the smug Alpha confidence that comes with getting his knot wet, Aemond looks almost nervous.
“You feel it too, do you not?” Aemond asks, speaking carefully like each word is made of glass.
Aegon only blinks. “Your cock in my ass? Yes, but I mean, don’t flatter -”
“Not that,” Aemond retorts, and Aegon snickers in spite of himself at the way Aemond’s ears flush red.
“This,” Aemond whispers, pressing their cheeks together again and lightly brushing his neck in a kiss that sets his body flame. Fire tendrils curl through every nerve in Aegon’s body, set alight in pleasure and rightness, in yes this, of course this, perfect and mine, are you mine?
Stories of fated lovers dance in his mind, and he can't stop himself from leaning into Aemond’s touch with a quiet, “Yes.”
Aemond nods, breath shaky in - relief? Aegon fails to see how it matters when Aemond is the one who rejected him, and his scent goes sour with the reminder, all rotten fruit. Aemond makes a quiet sound in his throat as he nuzzles closers, a clumsy attempt at comfort. The touch feels nice, but it's not enough to suppress the lingering fear that poisons his thoughts.
"But you don't want it," Aegon says, sounding like a petulant child even to his own ears. You don't want me.
Aemond laughs, sharp, humorless. “You're a fool if you really believe that,” he confesses, only sounding a little begrudging from the honesty of it. "But I want to do this properly, if you'll allow me."
And that’s - oh. Wait. What?
Aegon shifts until he can look upon his brother’s face again. Aemond looks as serious as ever, and Aegon tries to grapple with that. Aemond….wants him? And not just that, a proper mating ceremony? Another fat tear threatens to slip past his eyes.
“Of course you’re a stupid romantic,” Aegon mumbles, though he hardly sounds displeased at the prospect as the tear drop follows its many brothers before it down his cheek. Aemond hums, neither confirming nor denying as he wipes away the tear without hesitation.
He wants you, Aegon’s Omega trills, and this time when Aemond leans in to nuzzle Aegon’s cheek, Aegon offers no protest. Aemond’s scent remains warm and steady, a fire in a hearth on a cold night, and Aegon can’t stop himself from leaning in, nosing against Aemond’s jaw with a snuffle. Aemond hums a content little sound, and Aegon finds himself laughing, body shaking from the incredulity of it all. Aemond idly strokes above one of the scent glands on Aegon’s neck, protective and covetous, and it feels like a promise.
There’s a lot he wants to ask. He wants to know how long Aemond has wanted him, if he was happy when Aegon presented Omega, if he still remembers the tales of the nursemaids. But all he can manage is a meager, mournful, “Mother will never allow it.”
Because it’s true. Mother made it clear that Aegon will be sold off like a cow as soon as a politically advantageous betrothal offer is made. Although Aemond has not entered a formal betrothal yet, Aegon knows their mother means to wed him to Helaena, the sweeter, prettier, better Omega of the family.
Aemond’s throat rumbles with a growl in displeasure. “She will allow it.”
The hand on Aegon’s neck tightens, a possessive curl of his fingers that leaves Aegon moaning. He slaps one of his hands atop Aemond’s, increasing the dizzying pressure as he digs his nails into the skin of Aemond’s hand.
“Promise me,” Aegon hisses, urgent and desperate. “Promise me you’ll give me your bite and I yours, even if she denies us.”
There's a distant part of his mind that thinks he's truly gone crazy, demanding such a thing without the excuse of sex-crazed hormones to fall on. But would it be so bad, Aegon wonders, to have something good to call his own? Call it myth come to life, call it a cocktail of chemical instincts - whatever it is, if they both are under the same spell, would accepting it be so bad?
Aegon's heart pounds, looking into Aemond's eye with newfound conviction. It wouldn't. It wouldn't be bad at all.
Aemond’s breath is hot on his already overheated skin as he presses closer, gold kissing the edges of his irises as hisses back, “I swear it.”
Another laugh tears itself from Aegon’s throat, wild and giddy from the unbelievable victory of it. Mine, you’re mine, for better or worse, you’re mine and I’m yours.
The laughter only cuts off when Aemond starts rocking his knot deeper into Aegon, rubbing against that spot that has Aegon keening and clawing at Aemond’s back. Aemond kisses along Aegon’s jaw, each kiss rougher, dirtier than the last.
“You’ll make such a pretty bride,” Aemond murmurs, and Aegon goes red and dizzy at the implication. He shouldn’t like it, he really shouldn’t, but his cock doesn’t receive the message, and he’s hard against his stomach in no time.
Aemond presses a smirk against Aegon’s cheek, the smug bastard. “You like that, don't you?”
Aegon doesn’t deign to respond, but he doesn’t need to, not when he’s wriggling around on Aemond’s knot with little breathy sounds at just the thought of it. Aemond throbs inside Aegon, making both of them groan.
“And on your first heat after we wed,” Aemond says, breathing the words against Aegon’s lips. “I’ll put a little dragon in your belly.”
“Fuck,” Aegon curses, smothering a hungry sound against Aemond’s lips.
They rut together until Aemond fucks a second orgasm out of Aegon, who shakes through it with a low, long moan. When Aemond tucks his face in the crook of Aegon’s neck, Aegon gently rests a hand on the back of his head to keep him there, where he belongs. Above him, his ceiling swirls like the night sky, dancing like stars in the stories of old.