Chapter Text
Daeron
Daeron trotted towards the castle dungeons, the damp and mouldy air clinging to his nose. His father had been lenient, only giving him a few lashes, a manageable punishment knowing he allowed Egg to run off and balded his head. While his father showed him mercy, his dreams didn’t, haunting him since days already. He needed to visit the knight, to confirm his deepest fears. If he signed the rogue to his death with his lies, he could live with that, but he couldn’t sit while his imminent death was going after his neck.
He barged into the cell, startling both the omega and the child, a reunion he hadn’t expected at all.
“What do you want?” Egg snapped, lunging his little body to stand protectively in front of the knight.
The sober he felt thanks to the cold air of the night had been crushed, not by cheap wine, but by a potent primal scent emanating from the omega, whose pale big blue eyes were looking innocently at him. In his daze, his mind was telling him his scent was strangely familiar, making him doubt if he truly only met him in his dreams.
“You lied to father!” Egg screamed, trying to shove Daeron out of the cell, “you are a coward! Get out!”
“Egg, let’s calm down,” mumbled the hedge, placing a gently hand on the child’s shoulder. He looked at Daeron with a kindness that felt like a punch. “I remember you, you were at the inn…”
“The inn?” His hollow gaze drifted to confusion.
“You don’t remember m’lord, but you told me you dreamed about me,” the omega said softly, still unaware that the Targaryen alpha in front of him was the reason his death was sealed.
The prince knitted his brows, “did I really said that?”
Egg sighed, his blue almost violet eyes weary of his presence, “Daeron, just go, you have done enough damage.” He turned to the knight, “my uncle wants to see you after you are done eating…”
“I’m done now,” he commented weakly, “I have already kicked one prince in the mouth. Don’t mean to keep another one waiting.” Daeron let out a dry raspy laugh at the knight’s words.
Against Egg’s demands, he accompanied them in their walk to his uncle’s private chambers. The journey was short and he saw the two figures disappearing behind the thick wooded door.
He sank to the floor, finally able to breath, waiting patiently for them while his dream repeated in his head over and over again, still not making any sense. If he was truly the same man from his prophecy, how could this poor hedge knight slay a dragon when lack of skill was evident. Even if his walking was clumsy, he couldn’t imagine him with a sword in his hand. Sure, the man was big, but he also was an omega, which probably only made things worse for him.
Egg eventually left the room, disturbing his thoughts when he sat beside him, hugging his knees. “You have always been a coward…” his brother whispered, “you allowed…you even allowed Aerion to be cruel to me only because you didn’t have the guts to face him,” his voice cold, eyes devoid of any affection, “but this time, you have doomed someone innocent…Ser Duncan is....” the child’s voice broke a bit, “he is kind, unlike you or Aerion. Your lies have sentenced him to death.”
“What did you expect me to do? You know fa-” he tried to reason, but his excuses cut short when the heavy door opened, his uncle emerging from the room, a comforting hand on the knight’s back as he was guiding him to the council room. The omega’s scent indicated he was barely restraining to jump on Daeron, only his uncle’s firm hand saving him from the possible beating.
He got up, prepared to follow them, the daze that struck him again almost made him fall. His brother’s little hands trying to support his bigger frame.
“Don’t go, I mean it Daeron, you have done enough…” Egg whispered to him; with a certain maturity he didn’t knew his brother had.
“I have to…The dream, I have to make sense of it…” He replied softly, trailing after them, leaving behind his brother, who was watching him with disappointed eyes.
His presence in the council room interrupted the meeting, tension palpable in the air.
“Get out, Daeron,” his father commanded, barely able to mask his fury.
“No, let him stay,” Aerion countered, “my brother’s honour is at stake here too,” his voice smooth while his gaze did not leave his uncle’s face.
He didn’t sit at the table, he opted to watch everything from the corner of the room, his eyes analysing the knight, his dream hammering his mind.
“So…as Ser Duncan was saying?” Baelor nodded, encouraging the stressed omega to keep speaking.
“Trial…by combat. That’s my right,” his voice trembled, his omega scent distressed, forcing his alpha scent to flare and try to comfort him. He noticed his family controlled their reaction better. He wondered if the omega realized the dizziness that he was feeling because of his scent.
Trying to inhale anything but elm scent, the realization of the meaning of his dream came to his mind. If Aerion fought the knight, he would be the dead dragon. If it meant his brother’s fate was death, that was something he could live with.
“I refuse,” his brother said smugly.
“You cannot refuse,” their father snapped, hands almost clutching the table, restraining himself.
Their uncle looked at Aerion, with a serious gaze, “any knight accused of a crime has the right to demand as such…” his voice low, “unless you withdraw your claim?”
Aerion eyes locked into Baelor’s, “a Trial of Seven,” he said, his demonic smile creeping in his face. “That is my right, I do believe,” clearly challenging Baelor.
“What the fuck is a trial of seven?” His father snapped as confused as he himself was, he never heard of such thing in his short life.
“It is another form of trial by combat… Ancient, seldom invoked...” Baelor explained, confusing gazes on him while his brother’s alpha scent purred, clearly enjoying this. “It came across the Narrow Sea with the Andals and their seven gods.”
“Well, if it was the Andals…” mumbled his father, pissed at Aerion’s stupid idea.
This made no sense, why having such dream in the first place if Aerion wouldn’t be slayed.
“I am sorry, Your Grace. The old man was never much for praying. What is a trial of seven?” The omega’s voice dripping with confusion, looking dumbly at their uncle.
“The Andals believed that if seven champions fought, the gods, being thus honoured, would be more like to intervene and see the guilty party punished…” Baelor explained, his gaze landing to Aerion again, tired of his nephew’s antics.
Daeron disconnected for a moment, his mind trying hard to make sense out of the dream, he thought he would be the one slayed, but he clearly was safe, his brother’s future on the other hand looked bleak at the mention of combat.
His brother’s voice interrupted his thoughts, voice full of mockery while cracking walnuts. “Daeron will fight by my side, his honour has been wronged as well; Ser Duncan must pay for each one of his crimes agai-“
“I am not fighting, I never asked to have my honour redeemed, brother,” he barked, not wanting to get more deeper in Aerion’s mess, he could fight the damned trial all by himself for all he cared.
“But it would be only fair for you to fight by my side…’brother’, after all, how could you leave a matter of Targaryen honour in doubt?” His brother said amusing, eating the walnuts Daeron have been hoping he would choke on this whole time.
“I am not going to fight, Aerion, get it straight to your head. Whoever has my honour, can keep it,” he replied, his voice deep, “I am not concerned about our house honour anymore since your existence came into this world,” he said harshly, if he agreed to fight, then the dream he feared so much would come true. He wouldn’t be safe from the hedge knight’s hands.
The insult made Aerion rage to spike, almost jumping on him, but their father held him back, saving Daeron’s nose from getting broken.
“You are a disgrace Daeron,” his brother roared, “you should have been the one exiled to the Citadel, you are only a pathetic drunkard that weeps over dreams,” his brother screamed while their father, with all his strength, was leading him out of the room.
Daeron’s desperation was obvious as he was getting closer to the older man, “I do not wish to fight for this,” his voice almost pleading.
“Aerion is within his rights…” Stated his uncle, kindly. “We have no choice, Daeron.”
“No, you don’t understand uncle, there’s no fucking way I am allowing myself to get dragged in this.”
“Then you should have thought better in your declarations, my dearest nephew,” his uncle said, mock in his voice.
“Can we stop this somehow?” He begged, his hollow gaze full of terror.
That made his uncle to chuckle, “no, we cannot, Ser Duncan has no important house…In fact, he has no house at all, he can't hide behind lord’s blood to avoid a trial in which his head won’t be the price.”
“Your Grace…does that mean I will have to fight seven men?” The omega asked innocently, his pale blue eyes empty.
“No, you will fight along six other men, who will be your defenders,” his uncle sighed, “you could be one of them Daeron, but I doubt your brother would be amused,” he added, looking at him expecting.
“I am not fighting,” he roared, “if I do, this…” he pointed at Ser Duncan, “this damned half man it’s going to be the death of me!”
“If that’s the gods plan, how can we go against it?” His uncle replied calmly.
“No, uncle, I mean it, I have dreamed about…I have seen it…” He pleaded again, tears stinging his eyes.
“Then…fight by his side, I could allow that,” Baelor stated, playing with one of Aerion’s walnuts in his hand. “My brother would be upset at me for it, enough to not talk to me for at least one year, but he would come around it…eventually.”
“No! There must be no fight at all, no combat,” he said firmly, daring to place his hands on his uncle’s shoulders.
The omega disturbed them by clearing his throat, “so…can I go now?”
“No!” Daeron snapped, “put your thick head in use, we need a solution.”
“He doesn’t need a solution, he needs six men to fight tomorrow with him, now go,” his uncle replied, his patience thin.
“Give Rhae to him!” He said, the idea in his mind making perfect sense, if the omega married in the royal family, the trial could not continue.
Baelor looked at him for a moment, “are you stupid enough to give your youngest sister to a man who is not only a lowborn stranger but an omega too?”
His uncle sighed, forcing his hands off his shoulders with a strength that made Daeron flinch, “if you want so badly to save him with royal blood, wed him yourself,” he spat with mock in his eyes.
The room stilled, Daeron’s face went pale at the mention of marriage, a plague he avoided his whole life, not dreaming once about getting wed.
“That’s what I thought,” his uncle replied, turning around, blocking their eyes from his face, “you can go Ser Duncan, seek your champions.”
The omega nodded, stepping out of the room, “if I do, would the trial be cancelled?” His steps were cut short by Daeron’s voice.
His uncle’s head snapped in his direction, “well…a trial of judgment would be needed, since we cannot allow ourselves to do a trial of combat against our own kin…But Ser Duncan is no kin,” he explained kindly.
“If I have to wed a lowborn from Flea Bottom to save my life, I would…In fact, bet the fuck out of it I do wed the whole city to avoid my fate,” he said, his laugh dry, the dream clearly scared him more than marriage itself.
“Your idea might have been great in theory, but you are not wed,” his uncle stated.
“Then wed him to me, you are first in line, you hold the power to do so if you desired,” pleaded Daeron, almost kneeling if it was necessary.
“Your Grace, if you allow m-” The omega tried speaking.
“No!” Daeron snapped at getting interrupted.
“Yes, you are allowed to speak, Ser,” Baelor gave a pointed look to Daeron.
He cleared his throat, his pale blue eyes looking everywhere but the prince, “I am not sure if my words mean something, Your Grace, but I do prefer to seek six champions,” the omega mumbled, the rejection being direct and brutal. A small high pitched chuckled echoed through the halls.
Daeron froze, he has always been the one disappointing others by rejecting their proposals, but for the first time in his life, someone humiliated him. The hedge knight rejected him without even thinking about his proposal. Choosing a death sentence over a life of luxury if they wed.
“Wait, what’s wrong with marrying me?” He turned to the omega, his brows furrowed, his genuine offense evident.
“Nothing, My Prince…” The omega said, his scent heavy with stress.
“Then?” He inquired, stepping closer in the omega’s direction.
“Enough,” Baelor’s patience snapping. “Daeron, don’t insist, the trial would happen tomorrow,” he informed. “All of you, out,” finalized while dismissing them.