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In the sea of green that was their camp, Daeron’s black and red attire stood out starkly. He could see how the color changed how those around Daeron viewed him. Servants and knights that once dotted on him as their Lord’s ward now stepped aside and lowered their eyes as he walked past. The few steps between his uncle’s tent and his own felt like miles with how heavy the surrounding eyes were. He drew in a quick breath as he paused outside the tent flap; he could not help but worry about Gwayne’s reaction to seeing in his family colors.
His stomach twisted with so much anxiety and fear he was sure his scent was thick with it, every time he opened his mouth to announce his presence, the words dried on his tongue and choked him.
“Daeron my dear boy is that you?” Gwayne’s words were muffled through the tent's thick material and sounded slightly strained.
“Would you be a good boy and help your poor-” a crash sounded inside followed by his uncle’s cursing.
“Bloody hell, why so many ties?”
“I’m coming in now, Uncle,” Daeron called as he quickly stepped inside, his words tinged with worry. The turmoil he had felt ever since adorning his newest attire melted away as he took lungfuls of his Uncle’s unrestrained scent. A soothing mint scent that could cool even the most aggravated alphas.
The tent was filled with it and Daeron had missed this scent so very much, just another thing his Presentation had stolen from him. Days after Daeron’s first rut- when he had been a mess of alpha and pup emotions- his uncle had attempted to soothe him, when Ormund had found them curled up in a makeshift nest. He had raged and ripped apart the nest, the resulting fight was one of the worst Daeron had witnessed between Alpha and Omega and in the end his Uncle had to wear his collar even around him, dampening his scent.
Daeron blinked hard to focus on not becoming scent drunk.
How embarrassing that would be.
His uncle cursed again and the Omega’s crisp scent became winter sharp in displeasure. Further in the tent he could see a tall dressing screen folded out and it lightly tottered with his uncle's agitated movement pressing against it.
Daeron waited in the middle of the tent as his uncle fought behind the screen, more curing and the sound of ruffling cloth filled the room. There was a pause of silence before his uncle made a triumphant sound and finally stepped out.
The young Alpha blinked owlishly at his uncle’s attire. Over the years he had seen his uncle in many outfits, comfortable day clothes, training leathers and even -as a pup- his uncle in sleep rumbled sleep clothes. He was not sure he had ever seen his uncle in a dress before. The omega preferred tunics with hose or a long doublet that gave an illusion of a modest dress but never a true gown.
The gown was a deep green that Daeron thought complemented his uncle's pale coloring, long sleeved with gold decorations and high collared - which was surely Lord Ormund’s suggestion- gave his uncle an almost untouchable quality.
You may look but you may not touch.
“I was not sure I would win this battle,” Gwayne laughed as he straightened up. His cheeks were flushed red and Daeron though red also complemented Gwayne, it brought out the reddish hues in his tussled golden red locks.
“And look how handsome you look!”
Daeron flushed as his uncle cooed at him and quickly met him in the middle of the tent. Cool hands came up and cradled his hot face, as it was tilted down so purple could meet storm blue eyes.
When did I get taller than my uncle?
Gwayne seemed to notice at once as well for he lightly scolded Daeron with laughing eyes, and was there a smidge of sadness Daeron saw as well?
“By the time we arrive at the Red Keep we will have acquired you new clothes if you insist on growing so fast.”
Daeron opened his mouth to tell his uncle he wasn’t trying to grow, how he felt like his body was hurtling towards adulthood when he still wanted to be Gwayne’s pup , but what came out was instead- “Why are you wearing a dress?”
A thin light eyebrow rose before his uncle stepped back and spread his arms so Daeron could see the full outfit. Even after two children, his uncle was still slender, all the hours spent in the training yard.
“I can't very well arrive in my riding leather, now can I. Do I look so horrible?”
Daeron shook his face rapidly, but his uncle interrupted him by dropping his arms down by his side before self consciously wiping wrinkles from his skirts.
“The dress was one of my Mother’s, I was feeling sentimental when I packed it but now I’m not so sure.”
“Uncle you really do look very lovely, I’m just not used to seeing you without steel I suppose” Daeron quickly tried to explain, his heart squeezed at the thought of being the one to cause his uncle's self consciousness.
“Think of these attire as our newest arms, our clothing choice will mean everything in court,” Gwayne sighed like just thinking about court was already exhausting him, “I should finish dressing, we’ll be leaving soon and by midday we'll be at the Red Keep. Daeron, will you be a dear and help me with these bloody ties, I swear these dresses have to be a form of torture.”
Gwayne tuned and Daeron could see the lopsided golden ties fastened on the back of the gown. He stepped forward and started to pick at the ties, trying to loosen one the sides so he could attempt to straighten the mess. Either talked as Daeron worked, but he could not help but think about how fast his life was changing.
How if Ormund was here, the alpha would have surely been vexed at Gwayne’s and Daeron's closeness.The thought of the old Alpha had Daeron remembering the secret he had told the boy. How Gwayne almost graced the king’s bed.
“Is it true?” The words were sticky in Daeron’s throat. Gwayne only hummed in question before allowing him to continue.
“Did Grandsire plan to wed you to the king?” There, the question that had been plaguing him for days was out in the open.
This close to his uncle meant Daeron felt when the Omega's back stiffened.
“Who has been filling your mind with such nonsense,” Gwayne huffed in disbelief before continuing, “I was as likely as any other unwed Omega at the time, which means very unlikely.”
“Lord Ormund said-”
“Oh please, that man sees courting alphas in my shadows at every turn” Gwayne shook his head, “We may have been twins but your mother has always been the more lovely one between us. At that age she already had the bearing of a queen, while I was always covered in dirt from the training yard and hands rough with callouses. There was never any threat of me being Queen, no one would have wanted that.”
I would have. I would have called you my Queen. My mother. Ñuha muña.
“And if I did not marry Ormund, some other poor omega would have and I am not cruel enough to inflict him on any one else.” They both laughed lightly at that.
Daeron finished sorting the tires and smoothly tucked the end into Gwayne’s dress. His uncle slowly turned so they were eye to eye again.
“Is this what you have been worrying about for the last few days? Some imagined alpha whisking me away,” his uncle's mouth twitched with suppressed laughter.
Daeron nodded before shaking his head.
“Uncle, what if The Queen commands me to stay in King’s Landing?” The words were whispered between them, the miserable question that has been secretly eating at him since the letter was delivered. Storm blue eyes widened in surprise and there it was again, the flash of sadness Daeron had seen earlier.
“I’m sure your mother misses you dearly, especially once she see how much of a good boy you are,” a cool hand pressed to his cheek again and this time Daeron turned his face into the palm, eyes tightly closed.
“You are also a growing Alpha, I sure will want to start to see more than just Oldtown.”
Daeron whimpered at the thought of leaving his home, leaving Gwayne, the pups Harrin and Gannon, even leaving Ormund gave his heart a painful twist.
“Daeron, please listen to me,” Gwayne shushed him lightly, “please dear boy look at me.”
It took a moment before Daeron opened watery purple eyes.
“As long as I live, you will always have a place by my side, do you hear me? I swear it by all the gods in this word” the words are whispered ferociously between and Daeron sobbed and collapsed into his uncle's waiting arms.
Only once before had Daeron seen Gwayne look so determined. When Daeron had been ten summers old and Ormund had commanded Tressarion be chained after she grew too large to accompany the boy around the castle. Daeron remembers so much screaming before Ormund had stuck him. The blow had stunned him but it was finding Ormund laid out on the ground by a snarling pregnant Gwayne that truly took the boy’s breath away.
Daeron could admit he was scared of the future head but as long as Gwayne was by his side he could find the strength to face it.