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“Your Father is dying”
The words are thrown causally between them once Daeron settles-back straight and hands clasped behind himself- in front of Ormund’s desk. The breath catches in the young alpha’s chest as he blinks rapidly, eyes darting around the old alpha’s sitting form, looking for an injury, before true understanding blooms in the boy’s mind.
The King is dying.
Guilt washed over Daeron for the rush of relief he felt once he realized Ormund was not talking about himself but the boy’s sire.
”My Lord” Daeron starts before closing his mouth again, purple eyes dropping to the floor as he shifts from leg to leg.
Ormund sits behind his desk, dark blue gaze watching his young ward, in hand the letter barring the Queen’s elegant script. He stands abruptly, drawing Daeron eyes as the older Alpha tosses the parchment down in disgust. The room blooms with the scent of anger, sharp and acidic.
“The Queen has requested the presence of her youngest as well as her beloved Twin to be by her side for these hard times” Ormund is snarling be the end of the sentence.
Daeron warily watches as Ormund rounds his desk and approaches with quick steps.
Do not flee. Do not show your back. Do not be disrespectful.
”If it was up to me I would simple ship you to the capital and worry not but you mother cries for your uncle.” Ormund stops in front of his ward and Daeron freezes as the man looms over him. “So here I am, forced to send my Mate into that castle of depravity, surrounded by my enemies.”
“My Lord” Daeron licks his lips “ The Red Keep is surely filled with guards a-and the Gold Cloak-“
”And what of the Dragons and Rats bloating the castle” Ormund snarls “The King calls for all of his family to come for his final days and who will protect my Omega from them?” Teeth bared in barely contained rage.
“The royal family wouldn’t - I mean, Uncle Gwayne would be safe, he is the Queen’s twin.” Daeron trail off at Ormund’s look of disgust and the man’s shake of the head. Ormund reaches out a large hand to lay it on the boy’s shoulder and gives him a slight shake.
”I suppose it should not be a surprise that you have so much faith in others. Even those snakes in the capital. With your Uncle’s omegan compassion and my strong hand, you have grown into a strong virtues young alpha. But I will tell you a secret.” Ormund slowly lifts his hand from Daeron’s shoulder to cradle the boy’s face, forces purple eyes to stare into blue ones.
“The night your Grandsire pushed your mother, fresh from her first heat mind you, into the old dragon’s bed he also sent a letter to my father requesting his son to be sent to King’s Landing. I suppose he wanted to present them as a set, hoping one of his omega children would catch the king’s eye.” Color drained from Daeron’s face as Ormund continued, his deep voice dropping into a whisper.
“But by the blessing of the seven I was the one to read the letter first. And that very night I collared Gwayne and saving him from his father’s schemes and the Targaryen taint.” The grip on Daeron’s face tightens and the boy winces.
“But now they call for him again.”
”But my Lord. He is married to you and has borne you two sons. He-as you say, he wears your collar,” Daeron rushes out, his chest tight with this new knowledge.
Gwayne could have been my Dame.
He feels almost light head with the emotions rolling inside of himself.
Ormund scoffs, and shoves the Pup away in disbelief, and turns to pace his study. Daeron stumbles back before catching himself. Hands clenching and unclenching by his side, humiliation starting to creep into his scent by Ormund’s dismissal. Treated like a pup instead of the young Alpha the Prince is.
”What is a collar of gold to a savage bonding bite! Your mother bares the King’s very own teeth, and your sister wears your brother’s!”
The scent of rotting flowers coated Daeron’s mouth, gagging him on Ormund’s rage.
“The king may be too old but what of the other Targaryen Alphas!” Ormund paces the room fast, “Aegon the Conqueror claimed two Mates. And your eldest brother welps any cunt that goes near him! And what of your other brother, who is still mateless not even a betrothal.”
Abruptly Ormund strops walk. He stands frozen in the middle of the room, before he slowly turns to stare blank eyes to Daeron.
”And what of you? The alpha prince, the dragon in my own home.”
”My Lord,” Daeron gasps out in disbelief, “ I would never- Uncle Gwayne is like-like a mother to me.”
“Targaryen’s mate brothers to sisters, uncle to nieces, Uncle to nephew would be nothing more than tradition for you.”
The words fill the empty room, and Daeron becomes painfully aware of how it is only he and Ormund in the room as his Uncle’s alpha slowly steps toward him again.
Do not flee. Do not show your back. Do not be disrespectful.
Daeron stumbles backwards away from the approaching alpha. His heart hammering in his chest once his back is pressing against the door and the alpha continues to prowl forward. Ormund hand reaches out again but instead on pressing to Daeron’s shoulder or even reaching towards the boys face, Ormund’s palm presses again the boys throat, pinning him to the door.
“So tell me, Daeron Targaryen, are you the cuckoo chick in my nest? Biding your time till you push out the others and claim what is not yours?” The hand closes cruelly around his neck, nails digging into flesh. Daeron’s hands fly up to grip at the man’s wrist in a panic.
”I-I would never! I promise! Uncle please!” Daeron chocked out, his scent flooring with fear. He whines a high pitch Pup whine.
I am a pup! I mean no harm! I am a pup! Iamapupiamapupiamapupiamapup!
The hand lifts up slightly and Daeron greedily sucks in air but Ormund doesn’t full release him. Daeron chest heaves as he hangs limply in the alpha’s grip.
“No, you would not disrespect your alpha like that, would you.”
Daeron shakes his head but doesn’t dare speak.
”You have to understand how precious your Uncle is. I have done much to keep him safe and I will not allow anymore to take him from me. Not even you.”
Licking his lip Daeron dares to lock eyes with Ormund, “I’ll protect him, I won’t leave his side, his place is here. I swear.”
The words settle between them frozen before Ormund abruptly release him hold, Daeron sags agains the door as he fights to steady his legs.
”So we are in understanding of the situation. Leave and clean yourself up before your uncle catches your stink of fear,” Ormund dismisses the boy with a careless wave of his hand.
Daeron distantly hears himself murmuring a quiet agreement before quickly leave out the door he had just been chocked against, he couldn’t help but think about Ormund’s words about his brothers. Hands clenching so tightly his nails bit into his palms.
I will not let them take Gwayne away from us. I will not.