Chapter Text
—I AM GOING TO KILL YOU, LYONEL BARATHEON! DO YOU HEAR ME? YOU ARE A DEAD MAN!
Dunk’s shout echoed through the corridor until it reached Lyonel, who had been slowly climbing the stairs, holding Theon’s small hand between his own while Thoren waited for them with clear impatience a few steps above.
Lyonel lifted his head, opening his eyes with slight surprise, only to find the same expression on his son’s face.
—Oh, oh... What did you do?
Thoren’s whisper made Lyonel shake his head, but he did not respond.
—YOU DID IT AGAIN, DAMNED BASTARD, I AM GOING TO KILL YOU!
When the alpha realized that the omega’s voice was approaching, he lifted Theon and motioned for Thoren to start running up the stairs, only to end up lifting his cub as well when Thoren did not climb fast enough, although part of Lyonel knew it was completely in vain for them to try to run because Thoren’s stag’s hooves and Theon’s doe’s hooves made enough echo on the stairs to give them away.
When he reached the end of the stairs he found Mauss, who looked at Lyonel unimpressed to see him not only running up the stairs but also dragging his children.
—What did you do?
—I swear by the gods that nothing!
—Clearly you did, because not even when Dunk gave birth to Theon did he scream that furiously.
That made Lyonel stop for a moment, his mind racing as he tried to remember exactly what he had done. Or, more importantly, what he had done this time.
He set Thoren down, who only laughed as he adjusted the small green tunic that had ended up twisted after the run.
—Baba is in trouble, Uncle Mauss.
—Your baba always is, love… Now come on, you are not, so we can go eat cookies.
Before Lyonel could protest, Mauss took Theon from his arms and took Thoren’s hand to walk away down the corridor, closely followed by the stag and the doe, who did not even hesitate before abandoning Lyonel to his fate.
Traitors.
He paused for a moment to watch them walk away, feeling his heart race at the sight of his children because even after all that time there were still moments when it struck him fully.
His children… The idea still felt somewhat unreal when he thought about it too much.
Clearly both had inherited his omega’s height, but also his paleness. The light coming through the tall corridor windows made both their pale skin shine as they walked away with Mauss.
Although Thoren still was a small replica of Lyonel in too many ways.
He had his same dark curls, his same ease for laughter, that inexhaustible energy that seemed to keep him moving from the moment he opened his eyes until he finally surrendered to sleep. He even walked in a similar way, with that carefree confidence that made it seem like he owned any place he was in.
Theon, on the other hand, resembled Dunk more.
He had the same curls as his older brother and Lyonel, but where theirs were completely black, Theon’s were interrupted by reddish-blond strands that made his blue eyes shine even more. Even from that distance Lyonel could see how some of those lighter curls escaped over his forehead while the child settled against Mauss’s shoulder.
And every time he saw him he could not help but think he looked like a perfect mix between him and Dunk. Theon turned his head at that moment, as if he had felt he was being watched, and lifted a chubby hand to wave in his direction, greeting him.
Lyonel’s heart gave a small, completely ridiculous jolt.
And it was exactly then that he heard footsteps approaching through the corridor, fast and furious, unmistakably belonging to Dunk.
Ah… Right, Lyonel was escaping his husband and omega.
He stayed silent long enough to know that Dunk’s steps were coming from the corridor that led to the other stairs, so his omega must have been in his private solarium or his chambers. So Lyonel turned and went back down the stairs two at a time in complete silence.
He ran toward the opposite end from where he had entered from the inner courtyard to cross the hall where they received visitors and disappear through one of the abandoned corridors.
The first time Lyonel Baratheon’s life took a complete turn was when he met a squire on a battlefield, with whom he had a cub without knowing it until almost two years later.
The second time Lyonel Baratheon’s life took another turn was when the omega returned to his life, with his cub, and agreed to follow him from Ashford to Storm’s End. And from the moment they arrived, Lyonel felt that the sun and spring had reached the fortress even when it was struck by storms lasting weeks.
They had had a few difficult months after returning from Ashford, not because anyone had trouble accepting their heir, because Thoren was adorable and his cub had the same charm as Lyonel, so it did not take long for the whole fortress to be wrapped around his small fingers, and the same happened with Dunk, with his sweet and kind heart; but because Lyonel had had to make difficult decisions.
Upon arriving he had taken a few days so his omega could meet his uncle, but also to celebrate his son’s second nameday. After that he had to have a difficult conversation with his uncles.
His aunt had quickly admitted that she had been the one who intercepted news of his cub and, just the fact that his uncle admitted that he knew something was happening, although not exactly what, only connecting the dots to understand what was happening when Lyonel spoke to them about Dunk before leaving for Ashford, had been enough for him to forgive them enough to let them live.
But Ser Torren Baratheon and his lady wife had been exiled to a small estate not too far from Storm’s End, with only the necessary servants and never allowed to attend any public event. Over time Lyonel had managed to forgive his uncle enough to let him approach Thoren first and then Theon when he was born; he had also allowed him to attend his union with Dunk, although only because the omega asked him to.
And Dunk had settled into Storm’s End in a way Lyonel never expected. He had been prepared to try to convince his omega to stay, that he could turn the fortress into his home if he allowed it, but it was not necessary.
Dunk took his time to know every servant and then, slowly and carefully, began to take over the fortress. Most of the servants began eating in the great hall with them, the voices saying “my lord” or “my sire” filled with sweetness and sincere affection, and little by little the fortress stopped feeling as enormous and empty as it had throughout Lyonel’s life.
In those first months his omega trained in the mornings, but in the afternoons he walked through the fortress or the surroundings with Thoren and the stag, or kept Lyonel company in his study while he worked. Sometimes he sat on a windowsill with a blanket over his shoulders and an open book on his lap, slowly learning to read; other times he ended up taking over the entire sofa with Thoren sprawled over him.
And at night, after their cub went to bed, Dunk and Lyonel took time for themselves. They talked, sat watching the rain hit the windows of Storm’s End, or simply shared silence while the wind made the stone walls tremble.
And Lyonel continued courting the omega for months until a Dunk, with his beautiful face completely flushed and his blue eyes darkened with determination, practically shouted that he was ready for Lyonel to claim him at last or, at least, share his bed.
Naturally, in less than a week Lyonel had claimed his omega and also married him.
So it was not really a surprise that Dunk went into heat shortly after, now that he was in a safe place, well fed and marked, and dragged Lyonel with him, making him fall into a routine that ended with them welcoming Theon nine months later, on a night as stormy as the night his older brother was born.
Thoren, who had almost three namedays over his small curly head when Theon was born, was not very happy about having to share not only his Dada and Baba, but also his stag, although it only lasted a few days because Lyonel fell ill in the same way he remembered from when he arrived at the islands, and the answer came two weeks after Theon’s birth, in the form of a doe as black and imposing as Thoren’s stag.
And Lyonel had consulted his uncle, also all the family records and anyone alive who might have known something about the ancient Baratheons without finding much, because apparently no other lord or alpha had been blessed in the same way as Lyonel. So he reached his own conclusions and made sure to begin recording everything in a notebook.
He wrote how he had fallen ill without explanation and how he recovered just as quickly, only to then begin having strange dreams about a cub, which he later learned were due to the stag watching over his son, and that said stag was the blessing of the storm gods and the ancient Baratheons for the future head of the family.
He wrote how he fell ill again at the birth of his second son, although it took longer for him to recover, but without consequences; no weakness, no fatigue, nothing. He also noted that, just as had happened with Thoren, a doe had begun to watch his son, and Lyonel thought it was because his second cub was also being blessed like his brother, but without marking him as future heir by giving him a doe instead of a stag.
And during Theon’s first weeks it had been an adjustment for everyone: having two unusually large animals walking behind Dunk and Thoren following his Dada through the fortress with an offended expression every time he found the baby in the omega’s arms. More than once Lyonel had caught him trying to climb onto Dunk’s lap at the same time as Theon to make sure he still had his place.
But now, that Theon was a year and a half old and could run after Thoren and half-babble conversations that only his brother seemed to truly understand, his older brother did not let him out of his sight for too long.
A Lyonel it had been extremely difficult to remain civilized while Dunk carried Theon, although the omega had not been very happy with him for getting him pregnant during the first regular heat he had, because, for Dunk, his presentation heat did not count for much.
And Lyonel understood the logic behind that, he truly did, but that did not change the fact that for entire months he had barely been able to keep his hands off his husband.
His omega had been radiant, not only because in the months between his arrival at Storm End and his heat the alpha had made sure Dunk gained a healthy weight, but also because his morning training had shaped all the flesh and fat he was gaining. He no longer looked like a particularly strong gust of wind could carry him away. There was strength in his shoulders, in his arms and in his legs, defined muscles beneath a soft layer of flesh that only made him even more beautiful in Lyonel’s eyes.
So seeing him healthy, with his small rounded belly slowly growing thanks to his great height, his cheeks constantly flushed for one reason or another, and his hair always slipping free from any attempt to keep it neat, had made Lyonel feel on the edge of madness at all times.
It did not help that Dunk had the habit of absentmindedly resting a hand over his belly when he read, walked, or stood watching some storm through the windows of Storm’s End, nor that he sometimes fell asleep in a chair with Thoren curled against his side and a blanket over his legs, because each of those images managed to freeze Lyonel in place for several seconds like a complete fool.
Because, gods... how he loved him. And knowing that he was going to give him another perfect baby, or a perfect baby girl, only made him love him even more.
Even now, after years, Lyonel still felt something tighten in his chest whenever he remembered those months, the way Dunk had begun filling Storm’s End with a life the fortress had not known for decades and how, somehow, he had made the idea of returning to those vast empty rooms without him completely impossible to imagine.
And precisely because of that, because he was still incapable of denying Dunk anything even after all these years, he had spent much of the day avoiding a discussion he knew he was not going to win.
Lyonel had managed to avoid his furious omega for most of the day, only to be caught when he entered their chambers, intending to go to bed early and give Dunk enough pity that he would not wake him.
But upon entering, he had found his omega, seated on the divan Lyonel had had made specifically for Dunk, so he could rest his long and beautiful form near the warmth of the hearth, but also have a clear view of the windows facing the sea.
—Oh... Hello, my love.
Lyonel smiles as softly and charmingly as he can while he removes his boots before moving further in, knowing his omega hated him wearing boots on the rugs that covered almost all the stone floor to make it more comfortable.
The alpha frowns at the slightly sour scent, but above all nervous and frightened, that filled their chambers because, although that scent in his omega had been common years ago, since Lyonel had marked him it was strange for Dunk to smell like that, especially because through their bond he could feel every trace of love and desire Lyonel felt for him.
—What is it? What is wrong, love?
He removes his doublet to be more comfortable and hurries to his omega’s side, kneeling at his feet, running his hands over his large and beautiful thighs even though at that moment they were covered by his black hose.
—You did it again... Although I suppose the more correct thing to say is that we did it again.
Lyonel frowns, opening his mouth to ask what his omega meant, only to close it so tightly and quickly that he bites his tongue when he notices one of his pale hands moving toward his belly. He moves his hands from Dunk’s thighs to his hips, leaning slightly as he breathes in deeply: Beneath the faint sourness, Dunk’s scent was sweeter and slightly milky, but Lyonel had thought it was because of Theon.
—Is it...? Are you sure?
—Yes, Lyonel, the maester checked me when I vomited three mornings in a row and your scent made me sick.
Lyonel tightens his fingers slightly, tilting his head to look at Dunk through his curls, trying to understand why his omega was like this while Lyonel felt his heart was about to burst out of his chest.
—And it is not...? It is not...? Love, do you not want another cub?
—Yes, but I did not think that... not so quickly... you... you want...
—Gods, Dunk, yes! Of course I do! Another little cub or perhaps a girl? Gods... Dunk, if it were up to me we would have at least ten, but you are the one who decides how many we have or when.
Lyonel leans in a little, pushing Dunk’s legs apart and pulling them around himself as he bends until his face is half pressed against his omega’s flat belly, his heart racing and his scent rising with satisfaction, love, and protection.
He closes his eyes when he feels Dunk’s hand running through his curls.
—I love you, Dunk, and I love our children and if you do not want more, I will accept it, and if you want five more, I will give you five more.
—Of course I want this cub, Lyonel, I just did not think we could bloody have this happen a third time… Theon is only a year and a half old and Thoren is only just starting to accept it... I...
Lyonel makes a small face hidden against his omega’s belly, understanding, because even Lyonel also thought it was completely absurd that it was happening to them again. Dunk had had his first post-partum heat the previous month and, naturally, had dragged Lyonel into his own routine.
He bites his lip to stay silent and let Dunk say what is clearly turning over in his beautiful mind.
—Can we do this?
—What do you mean?
—Can we raise three children together without failing any of them?
Lyonel feels himself soften a little at understanding what was troubling his omega. Thoren would be five name days old by the time the new cub was born and would be in an even more demanding age, as would Theon.
Dunk was worried they would not be able to give each of their cubs the attention they deserved and needed, something entirely in line with his great noble and sweet heart.
Lyonel straightens slightly on his knees to look at Dunk, while the omega’s fingers gently scratch his beard.
—We can, my love... We know too well what it feels like not to be loved enough to do that to our little babies.
Dunk looks into his eyes for a long moment, Lyonel is not sure what he is searching for, but whatever it is he finds it because he relaxes and smiles at him with completely flushed cheeks.
—So... you really want a girl, huh?
—Why do you say that?
—Because since I told you I was pregnant with Theon you have not stopped mentioning a girl whenever you can —Dunk shrugs and rubs his thumb over his cheekbone—. I do not know what the gods are giving us, darling, but... if you do not get your girl now, maybe in a few years, this time truly in a few years, we can try again.
Lyonel smiles broadly, pulling Dunk closer by the hips, licking his lips as he presses the flesh of his thighs slightly while leaning in until their noses brush.
—Can I fuck you now, my love?
—No, idiot, you cannot... I am completely exhausted, so you are going to go bathe your children, feed them, and then put them to bed. —Dunk looks at him so seriously that Lyonel simply collapses into his lap whining and rubbing his cheek against his thigh, the same way their children do when the omega tells them no.— And after you have dinner and come back with honey cakes for me... maybe I will let you.
—Why are you so cruel?
He whines, moving his head until he can press his nose against the crease of Dunk’s leg, breathing in deeply his sweet scent designed to drive Lyonel mad, in his opinion, but before he can sink his teeth into the sweet and perfect flesh of his omega’s pale thigh, Dunk makes a fist in his curls, shaking his head.
—Stop being a damn horny dog.
The alpha did not need to look at the omega to know that Dunk was rolling his eyes completely amused, his cheeks as flushed as a ripe apple.
He pulls back when Dunk loosens his grip on his curls and lifts his head again as he leans back to give his knees a rest.
—Although... —Dunk falls silent, frowning in a way that makes Lyonel alert.
—What?
—If we have a baby girl... how are you going to handle letting her get married?
Lyonel frowns, beginning to growl unconsciously as his fingers tighten on the flesh of his love’s perfect backside, making Dunk part his legs slightly more, moving his hips with fluttering lashes.
—Ah... Well, you have years to think about it, but I warn you now, Lyonel Baratheon. —Any trace of desire that had been sweetening his omega’s scent darkens as those pale fingers cling again to Lyonel’s curls.— If you dare use my children against their sister... you will not see or touch anything because we will not even bathe together, do you understand?
Lyonel whines, writhing slightly and tightening his thighs as he leans into his omega.
—Yes, my love.
—So...
Dunk tilts his head to look at his alpha when he hears his voice suddenly over his shoulder and suppresses a smile at the sight of his bicolored curls completely disheveled, and his clothing slightly wrinkled from dancing all over the hall with Tessa.
—What? —He narrows his eyes, alert at how the incense and spices in his husband’s scent rise.
—Thoren has just been anointed as a knight and Theon is his squire... Our sweet Tessa is already ten name days ol—
—No.
Dunk interrupts him and stands up, moving away before Lyonel can continue speaking while biting his lips to suppress his laughter.
He had been insisting on having another cub ever since their first cub told them he was ready to be knighted and had left the tutelage of Ser Beesbury, under whom he had most recently served as squire, to return home wanting Lyonel to be the one to anoint him.
Dunk had cried for several hours upon realizing that his little baby, his laughing little cub, was no longer a cub despite the fact that there was still a black stag following each of his steps.
Thoren had grown until he was as tall as Lyonel, but Dunk did not rule out that his son might still have one last growth spurt like Dunk himself had, and with each passing year he only looked more and more like Lyonel. While Theon had grown into a balanced mix of both of them, although his temperament was softer and calmer, like his, which helped keep some of Thoren’s overflowing energy in check.
Tessa, the only and last of their children, had reddish-blond curls that fell perfectly arranged, unlike her brothers and her alpha father; she had the tanned skin and Lyonel’s honey-green eyes, but in summer she was covered in freckles like Dunk; and despite only being ten name days old, she was tall and slender, which made Lyonel become like a furious storm when some boy lingered looking at her longer than necessary thinking she was older than her ten years, and Tessa’s doe becoming just as defensive only fueled Lyonel’s temper.
Dunk was sometimes surprised by how much everything had changed.
The Dunk of years ago would not even have been able to look the alpha in the face, out of fear, out of shame, and because he refused to cling to illusions or dreams that had no place among hunger and uncertainty.
And much less would he have dreamed of hosting a celebration feast for the knighting and name day of his first cub. Or of the image of said cub making his two younger brothers dance in the middle of the hall, their laughter as loud and bright as that of their alpha father echoing even above the music.
The Dunk of now had not only grown physically, with access to food to finally fill his large frame as it should be, but his confidence had grown, his ease, his security and trust in the place where he belonged.
Something had broken in order to begin healing when he decided to let Lyonel in years ago, and that had finished healing to give way to this new version of himself when the alpha claimed him; being able to feel how much and how deeply he was loved, desired, and needed had made Dunk cry more than one night while Lyonel slept with his strong arms firmly wrapped around Dunk.
Because someone had finally chosen Dunk even though Dunk was only... Dunk, a half-starved orphan, without even a proper name.
He is pulled from his thoughts with a slight start when he feels something wet press against his hand and he smiles upon finding Tag, Thoren’s stag. The stag had not changed in the slightest from the moment it appeared in his life until this day, and it only shed its antlers when it wanted to apparently, only for a new set just as impressive to grow back overnight, something they had confirmed on three occasions.
Three times Tag had shed his antlers, dropping the heavy and elegant bones at Lyonel’s feet, and perhaps it was the connection between them or that they were technically the same being, which had led Lyonel to quickly understand what the stag wanted. After each of Tag’s gifts, an antlered crown, elegant and perfectly designed, would appear on one of their children’s heads at the next special occasion.
Theon and Tessa were watched and protected with the same ferocity as Thoren by their respective does which, although they did not have antlers, had a protective fury in them that made them even more dangerous in Dunk’s opinion. Theon’s doe was slightly larger than Tessa’s, but all three animals had Lyonel’s eyes and the same black coat, smooth and shining golden in certain light or on certain days.
Dunk thought he was going to die when Lyonel fell ill, out of nowhere, with a fever so burning it left him unconscious for days while he struggled to remain calm with a newborn, a complaining and jealous cub. And the worry had not gone even when his alpha woke up nor when the doe appeared because Dunk still feared that, even if it was a blessing of his husband’s blood and ancestors, there might be a cost for his alpha, but nothing had happened; Lyonel had only been tired and extremely hungry for a couple of weeks before returning to his usual self.
—Dada!
He laughs when Thoren crashes against his chest followed closely by Theon and Tessa. Although Thoren was already 15 years old and had already presented himself as an alpha, he still jumped onto Dunk or Lyonel as he had done since he learned how to do it, and his siblings had not taken long to learn it as well.
—Dance with me, Dada!
—No, with me! —Theon pulls the hand Thoren had not caught.
—No, little one, first with me because I’m his first baby so I get the first dance.
Dunk rolls his eyes amused, but before he can truly respond, Lyonel’s arms wrap around his waist from behind, pulling him gently against his broad chest.
—He’s mine, so he dances with me first.
The omega only sighs as he moves a hand to adjust Tessa’s diadem, which was a small masterpiece of bone, gold, and sapphires that made her hair look even more reddish. He glances toward Thoren and Theon, who were also wearing their own heralds, simpler but unique in their own way.
—I have a question for you, my children.
Dunk rolls his eyes so hard it gives him a slight headache, but he lets his weight fall a little more back onto Lyonel, who only tightens his hold.
—Whenever you say that, we end up in trouble with Dada. —Dunk snorts at Tessa’s unimpressed reply while her brothers only nod with the same expression.
—First... Ow, unnecessarily rough, my sapphire. —Lyonel pokes his daughter’s cheek with a finger making her laugh.— And second... what do you think about another little brother or sister?
Dunk’s eyes meet Thoren’s, something that makes him shiver, and he sees the spark in his baby’s eyes. Dunk had once tried to ask Thoren what he remembered from his childhood, but his son only remembered all the games with his stag, Lyonel’s laughter, and Dunk’s hugs; something in the omega had relaxed at knowing his son did not remember anything of the miserable and poor life Dunk had subjected him to during his first year of life.
—I think it would be fun.
Dunk narrows his eyes, making his son only grin widely with his tongue trapped between his teeth, with the same mocking smile as Lyonel.
—Only if Baba finally pierces my ear.
—Oh, for all the gods!
He snorts, lifting his hands and wriggling free from Lyonel, who had begun laughing, and walks away needing something to eat.
—Come on, Dada... you said I could.
—If Thoren does it, I will too! —The calm but firm voice of Theon makes Dunk sigh because he did not even need to look at Tessa to know she was on the same side as her brothers.
—Fine, gods, you can, but nothing you can rip out, nothing ostentatious, and certainly nothing that screams “I am a Baratheon brat and I have money.”
He ignores his children’s dramatic responses as he continues walking away, one arm wrapped around himself.
It was not that Dunk did not want another baby, because he did, but he was afraid, especially since what had happened two years earlier. He had lost a baby before even confirming it or telling his alpha, and after speaking with the maester, whom he had forced not to tell Lyonel anything, it was likely that all the years of malnutrition, cold, and neglect were finally taking their toll on his body, or simply that it was something that was not meant to be.
Whatever it was, it had taken Dunk months not to cry himself to sleep and to drink moon tea almost obsessively because he was not sure he could bear losing another cub so quickly.
But now... he had been ready and longing for another small replica of his alpha, so after his heat two moons ago he had not taken tea and had taken care of himself almost obsessively, exhausting the maester with his questions, but until his belly began to grow Dunk knew he would not be able to relax and with almost three months it was only a matter of days before his scent began to change and his alpha went completely mad, but for now he would let him wriggle and beg because he found it amusing to see how he tried to drag his children into it as well.
Although... a glance over his shoulder brought his eyes to Thoren again and yes, there it was again, that same mocking smile and an amused wink.
Yes, his cub definitely knew, but he was still HIS little fury so he would keep silent.
Thoren Baratheon
Thoren was with his siblings sitting on a blanket on the cliffs outside the fortress, and although Thoren was already married, with his own children and even a grandchild on the way, he was still extremely protective and careful with his younger siblings.
So when he noticed that Theon no longer knew how to keep holding Tessa so she would stop crying while Tybalt stared too intently at the wine in their parents’ chambers, he dragged them with him to the cliffs to get some fresh air and simply be the four of them for a moment.
His two brothers and his sister had married for love as Thoren had done, and as their parents had done, but only Thoren’s firstborn had received the same blessing as them of being watched over by a black stag. Thoren remembered all too well the euphoria of his father when the stag appeared in his grandson’s nursery.
And he also remembered how complicated it had been for him and his siblings to explain to their respective partners why they were followed everywhere by an animal that technically should not exist.
But the years had passed, his siblings had married and gone to live with their respective partners while Thoren had remained in the fortress as heir and firstborn; but they had all returned as soon as he informed them that Lyonel’s health was declining.
Their father had fallen ill returning from Tarth, after traveling for the birth of his grandchild, because that was something they had done with all their children no matter where they were. Dunk and Lyonel had traveled to accompany them, to receive their grandchildren with the same love with which they had received their children, and to help them or simply be with them while they adjusted to that new stage.
But Lyonel was not improving.
He grew more and more tired until he simply could no longer leave the bed despite his attempts and Dunk’s arguments for him to take care of himself. And that was what scared Thoren the most, because his father had never stayed still by his own will. Lyonel had crossed storms, wars, winters, and entire oceans to reach where he needed to be; seeing him slowly consumed between those sheets, each time more tired, each time weaker, made something inside Thoren refuse to accept what his eyes had been seeing for moons.
Something inside Thoren and the absent shine in his Dada’s blue eyes had told him enough to begin preparing to say goodbye, not only to his alpha father, but also to his Dada, because Dunk would not survive more than a couple of days without his alpha, and it would be the same if things were reversed; Lyonel would be consumed by fury and storm in only days to follow his omega and the Stranger.
So he had called his siblings and had been honest with them.
Tessa had not stopped crying since then, even though they tried to keep her calm because their sister had given birth only three moons ago and had had a difficult delivery. Sometimes they managed to distract her for an hour or two, managed to make her sit with her children or draw a tired smile from her with some memory of their childhood, but it always ended the same. Always. It was enough with a word, a glance toward the fortress, or the simple thought that she would soon have to say goodbye to their parents for her to break again, folding in on herself while tears ran down her face without her being able to stop them.
Tybalt had been silent and withdrawn in a way that reminded Thoren far too much of his omega father. He was the youngest of the four, but although he looked like Theon, being a near perfect balance of their parents, he had the same unrestrained and laughing joy as Thoren and Lyonel, so seeing him like that painfully pulled at the broken pieces of Thoren’s heart. He had stopped laughing, stopped arguing, stopped even pretending he was fine, and seeing him sit for hours staring into nothing made the fear feel much more real.
Theon tried to remain strong, serious, and calm, but Thoren had entered his chambers more than once to find his younger brother crying uncontrollably in a corner. And every time that happened, every time he saw Theon’s shoulders shaking while he tried to smother his sobs against the blankets, something inside Thoren twisted a little more, because Theon had always been the most stable of them.
And Tessa… Tessa was, as Lyonel had named her, their sapphire.
Thoren was aware of his own flaws, his siblings’ flaws, and his parents’ flaws, but Tessa… Tessa had inherited only her parents’ virtues: her omega father’s large, noble, and sweet heart, her alpha father’s simple and laughing joy, Dunk’s patience, and Lyonel’s charm, so it was no surprise she had become the center of their lives.
Tessa was the sun of their storm-governed lives, and they all loved her fiercely, and she loved them in the same way or probably more. Thoren could only be grateful to the gods and their ancestors that Tessa had found an alpha so willing to burn the world if it made her laugh.
—What are we going to do? —Theon’s whisper makes Thoren lift his gaze to his younger brother, noticing how he had begun to tremble.
—What Father taught us, Theon… We are the storm, we are the fury.
—So we make pain our gale to make ourselves stronger —Tybalt speaks in a heavy and choked voice from where he had his face hidden in his doe.
Thoren smiles slightly and nods.
—That’s right, little brother.
—Dada is going to die too, isn’t he?
He looks at Tessa, who was already looking at him, her large eyes shining with tears and her reddish-blond curls moving in the sea breeze.
—Yes, Tess… —he murmurs sadly.
—That’s good.
Thoren turns to look at Theon so sharply he feels his neck crack, and he is not the only one; Tessa and Tybalt look at him with the same horror.
—I didn’t mean it like that, gods! I meant that they are… Dada and Baba are one and the same thing, they live and breathe only because the other exists.
Thoren hums, slowly nodding as he understands what his younger brother meant.
And he was not wrong.
As Thoren grew, he could only dream of meeting someone and falling in love as deeply as his parents, finding an omega who could calm the storm that sometimes grew inside him in the same way his Dada did for his father. He dreamed of finding someone who would look at him as if he held the sun, the moon, and the stars in his face every time he smiled, as happened every time Lyonel made Dunk laugh.
So yes, Thoren understood what Theon meant.
Their parents existed to be together and he was not sure what would happen if one had to live years without the other, beyond the fact that it would be extremely cruel, not only for the one left behind between the two of them, but for Thoren and his siblings as well, because they would live with a ghost. With a shadow of the person they loved, with someone who would still breathe, walk, and speak, but whose soul had been torn away.
And after a lifetime of seeing Dunk and Lyonel love each other in that way, Thoren was not sure which of the two options seemed more painful.
Before he could say anything or any of them could, the three does and the stag rose from where they had been lying, watching over and guarding them, to shake violently, striking their hooves against the stones with impatience as if something was troubling them. Thoren had only ever seen his stag like that when someone approached to attack it.
—What is it? What’s happening?
—I don’t know, I’ve never seen them like this.
—It’s…
Thoren was left breathless before finishing his sentence as he saw the four animals circle around them before vanishing into a cloud of black and gold that fluttered one last time, forming the shadow of a great stag while the wind carried a loud, laughing voice that all of them recognized as their father’s.
The sound seemed to linger over the cliffs for an impossible instant, mixing with the distant roar of the sea and the salt wind that whipped their hair.
And then it disappeared.
They stood in silence, only the four of them for the first time in their entire lives.
Without the familiar weight of hooves on stone, without the soft snorts that always seemed to accompany them, without those honey-green eyes watching them from some corner of the fortress or from a distance, without the silent and constant certainty that, whatever happened, they were always there to care for and accompany them… just like their father.
And if the animals had disappeared... then Lyonel had too.
Thoren was sure the heartbreaking scream Tessa let out before falling to her knees, clutching herself, would haunt his dreams for the rest of his life because it did not sound human.
It sounded like something being torn apart.
He hurried to catch her against his chest, holding her as he had when she was a child and became frightened because she could not see their parents at feasts or the noise became too loud, but there was nothing he could do anymore. There was no embrace capable of fixing that.
—He’s gone… Father is gone.
Tybalt’s whisper was barely heard over Tessa’s screams, which clung to Thoren’s arm with enough force for her nails to dig into his flesh even through his clothes. As if saying it aloud would make it real, as if as long as no one spoke the words they could still pretend everything was fine.
Thoren felt his heart beating violently against his chest and his vision blurred with tears, but he had to… his siblings first.
He stretched an arm, pulling Theon and then Tybalt until he could wrap all three of them in his arms and also keep Tessa within them. He threaded his fingers through Theon’s curls and kissed Tybalt’s while he swayed, somehow rocking all three of his siblings.
Theon had begun to cry silently, Tybalt had his face hidden against his shoulder, and Tessa was still sobbing so hard she could barely breathe.
—We are going to be fine, do you hear me? I swear to the gods we are going to be fine.
The words cracked slightly as they left his mouth because he did not know if he was speaking to them… or trying to convince himself.