Chapter Text
It was always going to happen.
Maekar had been lying to himself for years, telling himself it wouldn't happen, that if it hadn't happened today then it wouldn't happen tomorrow either. That maybe, for once in his life, the Sevens, hells, even the bloody Old Gods would show him a sliver of mercy and spare his dignity.
Of course they hadn't, but he had hoped.
His brother had two beautiful alpha sons, bright and honorable as he himself was. Valarr was already mated to a lovely young omega from a suitable house. The union was bound to bring joy, children and plenty of gold.
He couldn't help but compare the boy to his own sons.
A beta drunk, a beta monk, a beta child, two beta daughters. Not a single alpha had come from his loins, and some blamed him and some blamed his wife. Maekar blamed the very sky above him and the ground under him.
He stood outside the doors to his son's rooms. His second born, who was vain and violent but followed him like the most loyal of creatures, who looked at his father like he could do no wrong. He had watched Aerion grow, develop in the strange creature he was today, and every day he had braced himself for this day. Every day he went to bed thanking the Gods that he had been spared for another day.
He dismissed the guards outside his son's room. The men were clearly bothered by the situation, their faces red and eyes glinting in the dim lighting. The guards were all beta, but they still had a nose to smell and blood to stir.
The idea of one of those lecherous animals touching his son made his skin crawl.
He entered slowly, finding the battleground of his son's room. Clothes were strewn across the stone pavement, books and belongings scattered without a care. A goblet touched his foot. It was dented, as if it had connected against something at great speed.
The fire was raging in the hearth, Aerion's own dragon egg safely inside an iron nest. Even when distraught, his son still tried to have his dreams come true. It would have been admirable had it not been so very hopeless.
He took a deep breath, trying to ignore the smell, the sticky, heady scent that pulled at him like a hand around his neck. It had been so long since he had smelled something like that, and for a moment he almost lost himself to it. He closed his eyes, willing his body and his mind to calm down. He needed to be calm.
Aerion was hiding under his blankets, nothing but a trembling lump on his large bed. The light curtains of his canopy were drawn, but they did nothing to hide the messy tangle of sheets and blankets.
“Aerion,” he called, pushing the goblet with his foot “you almost killed the boy.”
The boy was a stable hand, a sweet young lad with little brains. Aerion had hit him over the head with a rock so hard it made him bleed. He did not die, but he laid on the ground long enough to worry the maester.
He would not have murder in his own home.
“He touched me!” Aerion shrieked from behind his shield of blankets “He called me names and he touched me!”
“The boy might be stupid and rude, but he did not deserve to be beaten for that.”
He walked towards the grand canopy, the black metal bending into graceful shapes as it reached for the ceiling.
“He touched a Prince of the Blood and paid the price!”
He reached a hand out, ripping the blankets off in one great swipe. Aerion howled, jumping out to grab at his covers.
And there was his son, on the day Maekar prayed would never come.
The day of his first heat.
Aerion smelled of sugarplums. It was not a dignified scent. And omega of house Targaryen should have smelled like wood smoke, or spices, or something like the scent that precedes lighting.
But here was his son, smelling of sugarplums.
“He touched an omega in heat, after calling it an omega in heat.” Maekar said as he threw the blankets to the side “You need to learn how to control yourself from now on, son. No one is going to tolerate your quirks after today.”
“I am not an omega!” Aerion cried out, pulling himself towards the head of the bed, his scent spiked with fear “This is a fever! I am not-” he child couldn't even speak the truth “I am not!”
“You are.”
Maekar said as he sat by the edge of the bed, his own scent filling the room, sage and leather and the smell of oakwood fire “And denying it is what brought you here. Alone and crying in your room, rather than with a mate of your own.”
He wondered how Baelor would have handled this. Would he have been more tender? Better prepared? Kinder? He almost smiled to himself, knowing that, whatever he was going to do, his brother would have done it better. But then again, Baelor was never going to be in this situation. Baelor had managed to have two perfect alpha sons.
“No one is worthy of me!” His son whined like a wounded animal, but he shuffled closer, sweat and slick making his clothes stick to his skin. His face was flushed, his hair stuck to his forehead. His scent was thick and heady, his eyes hazy.
“I am going to be the dragon of this house! I will bring back the glory days back father, you'll see! Nothing will stop me from doing that, not even this traitorous body of-”
Aerion let out a broken whine as his father scuffed him hard, his hand clamping down on the back of his neck. He went still for a long second before he started mumbling quietly, his mouth hanging open.
Perhaps he should have done this when he was younger. Maybe Aerion would have grown up to be a better child.
“Your fire has always been admirable.” He said as he pulled his son closer, his free hand opening the laces of his own shirt “But right now it has turned into stubbornness, and that will not do.”
His fingers stilled for a second. He wondered if he was doing this to help his son or if it was some punishment he was inflicting on him.
Maybe both.
He pressed his son to his chest, letting his face close to his own neck.
He could feel Aerion relax slowly “There you go,” he whispered as he held him in his lap, one hand still holding him by the back of his neck “I am sorry it just came to this. No young omega want his father's scent, but-”
“No.” Aerion groaned, eyes half lidded as he breathed into Maekar's neck “No, it's good. It's good.”
He nuzzled into the skin like a kitten seeking its mother, his breath warm and damp against Maekar's cold skin.
“Good. As long as you feel better.”
Scenting was always a good way to calm a distressed omega. Usually the one offering their neck and scent would be an alpha mate, sometimes even a good friend or a sibling would do.
It was rare to see a father offering his neck for his child. But his bond had broken already and with time he had lost the scent of a bonded alpha to smell as he did when he was a bachelor. Maybe that was why his scent seemed to make Aerion just a bit warmer than he had been before.
He heard Aerion purr against his chest, his body finally relaxing. Using his own scent was a base thing to do. His pheromones worked like a key on a lock, the door opening not because it wanted to, but because it was made to be opened. His thumb rubbed slow circles on the skin that covered Aerion's mating gland, and he almost screamed at the way his son shivered under his fingers. He wanted to pull his hand away, but found it so incredibly hard to do.
His precious boy was just an animal now.
And gods help him, so was he.
“We will need to find you an alpha soon.”
He hummed as he sat further up onto the bed.
Aerion chased after his body like a dog following the scent of the kitchens, slack jawed and blind to all that surrounded him. He looked so dim and so honest it almost hurt his heart.
“Maybe your cousins? The youngest is still unwed.”
“He is a child.” Aerion mumbled as he wrapped himself around his father's body, his skin feverish and his scent so sweet it made Maekar's teeth ache “I do not need an alpha. I am stronger than any alpha.”
“It is not a matter of strength, my son.” Maekar said, an almost fond smile on his lips. He settled his back against a pile of pillows, Aerion draped over his lap, his face still pressed against his chest. He almost wanted to laugh. His proud son was just an omega, even if he didn't want to admit it. Weak to an alpha's scent and full of desires. He was soft like clay in his hands, so open and easy. He idly wondered if he could have used the same tricks to stop his boy from beating his brothers or scaring away his sisters.
“If you do not have a bond you will be considered prey for any alpha that finds you. The stable boy was only a beta. The guards are betas. And yet they could still smell you, and could still react to you. Bonding would sour your smell.”
“Then bond me.”
Maekar's hand tightened around the back of Aerion's neck, making him squawk in pain.
“Are you truly mad?” He hissed, fingers digging into heated flesh “Do you understand what you are asking for?”
“It has been the use of our house for centuries!” Aerion said, his scent spiked with pain. He arched his back, trying to push into his father's palm rather than away.
“Why should I debase myself with some little alpha lord when I have you?”
“Because you do not have me, you silly little boy.”
He hissed, pulling Aerion's head away from his bare skin. The boy whined, eyes shining in the firelight. Maekar could smell him, smell the need on him. His heart thumped in his ears.
“I am your father, your lord, your Prince-”
“and my alpha.”
Maybe he had not been as safe as he had thought.
He could feel the gland under his thumb. All he needed was to lean into it, break the skin, fill his mouth with the sweet blood of a young untouched thing. He couldn't do it, and yet he could see the value in the idea. A bond would leash Aerion to him forever. He would have a power over him, an absolute authority over his every move and decision. A bonded omega was rarely seen outside of its alpha's shadow, and people might even become more tolerant of Aerion's antics if he was mated and carried a pup or two.
The thought made his stomach roll.
He snapped his teeth together, trying to hold himself behind his own fangs. Aerion was still in his arms, on his lap. His delicate neck bent to the side as Maekar's fingers touched his mating gland.
His mouth was still open, his breathing coming in short gasps as he tried to wiggle himself closer, closer and closer still, as if he wanted to crawl in his father's chest and never let him go. Maekar looked down at him, at his bitten red lips and his violet eyes, a beautiful face that reminded him of his late mate.
“You disgust me.”
He said, his tone so cold it felt like the whole room turned frigid, even as the fire painted Aerion's hair in the red and orange hues he had always favoured.
He watched Aerion's eyes go wide, the violet almost swallowed by the blackness of his irises, and tears ran down his cheeks. He pulled the boy to his chest as he sobbed. It was hard to be rejected after one tried so hard, he thought.
It was still his boy. Even after everything, it was still his boy.
He shushed him gently, his scent warm and comforting around them. Aerion's body was a furnace on him. He felt him calm down, sliding back into that space where he was soft and yielding, a sweet little thing in his hands.
“I am sorry father,” Aerion whined against his skin, his arms wrapped around Maekar's shoulders as he cried “I am so sorry, I never wanted to-” he stammered between tears “I just-”
Maekar would never know what his son wanted or did not want. And honestly, at that moment, he did not care too much about it.
He heard Aerion's scream echo in the room as he sunk his teeth in his neck and thought that he was surely the worst of his kin.
He had kept his son on the bed for three long days. He had not mated him, not as the boy begged him for, but he had held him against his chest and let him breathe his scent. He watched the fight drain out of him minute by minute, watched his son going from a fury to a calm creature in his hands.
At the end of the third day, when the smell of sugarplums had subsided, he thumbed the raw wound on the back of Aerion's neck, feeling the boy twitch against him.
“You did well, my son.”
He whispered in his hair, an almost smile on his lips.
“I am very proud of you.”
There was nothing to be proud about, but he could feel the way Aerion beamed at the praise, his whole essence rewired to please his alpha.
He held him close and hoped the Stranger would soon come for the both of them.