Chapter Text
Daeron barely knew a world without colors, in truth; for the curse of seeing only the seemingly-endless shades of grey and white and black alone, reserved for those who are yet to meet the one meant to complete their soul, the one who is their soulmates, their other half—had dissolved from him the very moment his young and curious gaze met that of his newborn, even younger brother’s.
Aerion’s.
He could barely recall and remember memories of that time of his life—as a once, mere three year old haunted and chased by nothing at all during the night; as a mere kid who only ever had rest during cold evenings, nothing but full sleep from the hour of bat to eel, to wolf to nightingale inside his own chambers in the castle he would inherit;
A time where he could rest and think of nothing, a time where he did not see the red of blood, the orange of scorching fire, the blinding yellow of the dornish sun… the greenery around Summerhall.
The blue of their shared bed covers, the indigo of his Aerion’s otherworldly, captivating eyes, as well as the similar yet different shade of violet in Aegon’s and Rhae’s gaze; the very same shade of purple as that of their mother’s who passed away—
The only memory Daeron still kept from that earliest time was the clear remembrance of how nice and complete he felt as he first looked at his brother, followed soon enough with being alarmed … then fascinated at the slow but sure creeping of so many colors in his vision the longer his baby brother stares at him in answering wonder to his awe. The rest that he began to know of that time came from him reliving that moment sometimes in his dreams; just like now, with the present, older him observing as their first meeting unfolded all over again to his memory.
He watches as the younger him realized belatedly that the longer Aerion stares back at him, the more his brother sees and understands the world around him for the first time, too; he watches as the child-him become more and more intrigued to the baby brother who seemed to be reacting the same as he did him—as absorbed to the seemingly endless splash of different shades and colors painting the bleak, bleak world of whites and blacks that was all young Daeron himself knew, from the earliest formative years of his life—
Because of yet another revisiting of this memory in his dreams, Daeron thinks he could now much more easily recall how it felt the first time he observed that the exact white of his father’s hair remained the same as the younger him looked at him then—and how he soon enough noticed how his sire’s eyes were no longer an unnamed shade of grey; how his doublet is not only a mere, plain black clothe he thought it was, but was a surprisingly dark midnight shade coat with gems that sparkle bright and… red, perhaps; like the color of fire and blood, like the color of their house and sigil… and also the color of their legacy in the seven kingdoms.
the same set of colors that would’ve haunt Daeron soon, and for the rest of his miserable life; if it weren’t for his brother, soulmate and lover, if it weren’t for Aerion who would save him with his mere existence alone—
He thinks that even now, he could perhaps remember being mesmerized by the darkness of their mother’s hair as the young him turned to search her face next, as young Daeron then easily got lost at the the brilliance of the… violets of her eyes and gaze—locked only at him as she seemingly realized quickly that Daeron is seeing colors he previously could not, as she figured out immediately that he could now see the bursts of different shades and reflections of light after meeting his little brother’s gaze, after looking at her Aerion’s own lilac eyes—
“Oh my darling, my eldest…” Daeron could now perfectly relive how their mother had reached for him then, holding Aerion securely in one arm as she used the other to beckon him to come closer to her as well.
He watches, amused; at how he listened and stepped closer towards her easily enough, at how he had been once-ever obedient to his beloved mama and papa—as a child pure and innocent, as a child unburdened by dragon dreams and nightmares.
“Oh my sweet, do you see… colors? Is your surroundings much different that it was moments before, before your eyes met Aerion’s?”
As he watched his younger self nod in answer, his father would appear shocked—then torn; at the bond that would inevitably blossom between both of his young sons, his heirs, at the eternal tie that would connect the two of them whom he dreamed and wanted to one day inherit Summerhall, as well as bring glory to the blood of Targaryens.
“Yes, mama. Does… does that mean I would marry him like you did Father, when you became of age?” Young, insolent and innocent him would ask then, and Daeron could only marvel at the incredulously of it, of him.
He merely watches as his younger self embraced his mother carefully yet unquestioningly as she laughed softly—entirely missing the sharp look that passed between his skeptical father and fiercely protective mother as he did.
”It is… a bit more complicated for you and Aerion my love; what with being brothers… being both boys—but do not worry, your father and I would figure out a way! We will pave a path for the both of you to be as happy and content as you should be—together. I promise, my sweet. Don’t you agree, my love?”
There was a pause that lasted for a while that younger him wouldn’t notice, and in different times, Daeron himself might’ve worried at his father’s reluctance to let them be together as fate designed them to be;
but Daeron who is nine-and-ten knew his father would never dare let down his beloved wife, would never dare and try to disappoint his other half—
He is not worried, but it is a relief still to hear Maekar Targaryen say the next words he would utter to make his wife happier once again.
”Of course, my love. Do not worry, Daeron, my son; I will do what I can so that no one would be able to dare and separate you from Aerion, your brother and your one… your other half; the one you’re destined to walk the rest of your life with… the one the gods had chosen for you to always love and cherish.”
Daeron smiles at his father’s comforting words—and at the fact that his father kept his promise, even as sixteen years had now passed by them all.
Thank you, mother. Thank you, father—for everything you’ve given us, for everything you let me and Aerion choose and have, in the end—
When Daeron wakes up at last, it is with the feeling that he was miraculously well-rested for an entire night. Better yet however, he would also soon realize that there is a pleasing sensation of someone slowly and almost lovingly caressing his cheek and mouth—hand traveling from there to then trace his nose and ears, with the person’s next destination so obviously being his jaw then eyes or eyebrows, still—
He finds himself smiling before he even opened his eyes, for he knew it could be no one but Aerion who would hold him so; in this life which something tells him was much better than what he could’ve lived through—in this life that he never stopped feeling grateful for, since it enabled him to love Aerion as openly and purely as they could afford to.
When his dear brother realizes that his brother-soulmate is now awake as well—and is now far from the reaches of his dreams yet again, Daeron would hear as he tried to hide his sigh of relief, before then burrowing his face on Daeron’s neck—like he’s some sort of animal seeking comfort to the one he trusted to keep him safe and sound, like how he had been when something did not make sense and only his eldest brother could calm him down.
”Seemed like you had sweeter dream this time, don’t you, brother? You did not wake me with your thrashing about today—though I must admit you still worried me with how content you are, just moments before peacefully waking so well-rested.” Aerion murmurs innocently enough in the in-between of his neck and collar, but still Daeron knew his brother too well—and was able to quickly catch on the hidden worry and even anxiety at his beloved brother’s “question”.
He feels a flood of affection for Aerion, then; for his brother and lover, for his soulmate that saved him more than he could ever know.
And so, Daeron kisses his brother’s temple, before whispering to Aerion the words that would ease the both of them like nothing else could.
And so, the dreamer would profess his love for him alone—at which his soulmate would only respond with biting his collar bone.
’my pretty, little brother,’ Daeron thinks happily as he embraces his one, before then laughing at his Aerion’s unusual acts of affection mixed with defiance.
‘… my other half and only one, just mine. Only mine’ Daeron thinks as the both of them settle, and as he begins to gaze distractedly at nothing in particular at the canopy. ‘no one could take you away from me—my dragon, my star’
“You are so needy, don’t you know?” The heir of Summerhall teases (just so he could snap away from his wayward thoughts, just so he could stop at almost thinking of his brother like a possession—).
Aerion lets out a muffled, offended snort—though he would not verbally deny what his brother teased and called him out for;
Instead, his brother would use his arm to carry his weight and rise enough to reach Daeron’s ear—instead, his younger brother and beloved soulmate seemed to have sought him for something more… delightful in peculiar for the both of them.
”… I don’t think I’ve ever truly shown you what ‘needy’ is, brother-mine.”
(Daeron almost sighs in pure relief—glad for the distraction his brother unknowingly handed him, glad for the opportunity to bury all his doubts about himself… as well as the pureness of his love for him in Aerion’s most welcoming arms and addictive warmth; scorching Daeron’s soul with obsession and love for Aerion alone—his soulmate. his lover. the brother he would loved most even without the colors that marked them to be a pair; broken and united by shades and colors as well—)
“Perhaps you could show it to me now—I wouldn’t mind.”