Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

 My wounded wings still beating, you’ve always loved the stranger inside….
Me, ugly pretty. 

•

Jaehaerys sometimes wonders if anyone likes him at all. The ones who did are long dead by now. 

His mother had. She was fond of him enough to choose him over his little brother. But her pain was for naught and his throat had almost been slit to the bone.

It had taken his voice. The crooked stitching and the ring shaped scar; it was all a part of him. 

Jaehaerys had been the king’s simple son before he became the hostage of the crown. A small, pale shadow with bleeding wounds that took too long to heal. He was casted aside during the regency and made to endure the court sneers when he had been forced to attend feasts and tourneys in the name of his cousin and his twin sister. 

He was a ruined omega that nobody wanted, that nobody would bargain for. 

Alphas liked pretty harmless birds to butcher - he was an unplucked bird, already broken.

He was not pleasant to look at, and Jaehaerys didn’t have the heart to flaunt his war marks around.

“His gums are itchy,” his husband murmurs. Jaehaerys blinks and lowers his eyes to the child cradled in the crook of his arms. “He will teeth early.” 

The babe gurgles, his nose scrunched and his cheeks gaining a healthy pinkish hue. He is swaddled in black clothes threaded with red and gold, much like his father is. 

“He is eager to eat,” Viserys continues when Jaehaerys only hums, prodding at his elbow in an attempt to gain his attention. “I can see your milk does not fulfill him.” 

He snaps his eyes up to him, to his flickering violet orbs. Jaehaerys frowns, but his lord husband chuckles down at him. “I did not mean to offend you.” 

He throws another disgruntled look, shifting on the bedding. “You were lost in your head again,” Viserys continues, and pauses when he sees Jaehaerys bite his plushed lips. “Do you want to tell me?” 

He… does. Jaehaerys takes a deep breath, his throat rattling, and gestures with his hands, a simple yet methodical action. 

Do you like me? 

He sees the moment Viserys’ face crumbles, a frown tarnishing his handsome features. His pheromones spike and Jaehaerys winces, his heartbeat echoing in his ears. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

He shrugs. 

I don’t know. 

His husband sighs, a deep sound of frustration. “I like you. I’ve liked you ever since I saw you for the first time, Jae.” Then, supporting their tiny son’s head with his forearm, Viserys gestures his words back with his hands, his eyes desperate. Jaehaerys nods, a little bit teary, but he blames it on his pheromones. 

Viserys is not content with that - sometimes he thinks he longs for words of appreciation, but sadly, Jaehaerys cannot utter them. 

“Don’t frown like that,” he clasps his hand with his own, his much smaller ones look thin and feeble. “Look, little Aegon, your mother is sad. Smile for him - “his cute son obeys, his pale downy hair curling on his head in the same fashion his unruly father does. 

Jaehaerys coos, and forgets about his worries for the time being. 

*

It happens again. 

This time Jaehaerys lays atop his husband as he pistons his hips into him, his cock hitting his sweet spot, making his toes curl and his eyes water. 

Viserys is a passionate lover, often leaving love-bites across his body. He is careful not to bite around his scars, mindful of the faded skin. 

His husband is whining and sighing into the column of his throat. Jaehaerys braced himself with his arms, the pads of his fingers pressing down on his spine. 

“You’re so wet,” Viserys nips his jaw, a low-groan pouring out of him as Jaehaerys clenches. “So fucking tight.” 

A rasping sound is stolen from his damaged vocal-cords, his pleasure burning through. 

“Mmmm,” Viserys mumbles, his thrusts short and hard. Jaehaerys’ eyes roll into the back of his head, his leaking cock emptying his load on his husband’s abdomen and thighs. His skinny arms are trembling and his hair sticks to his damp forehead. “Oh, y-you're…” 

Jaehaerys is quickly overwhelmed with stimulation, but lets him bury his load inside his womb, hoping for it to quicken.

In the aftermath, they lay on their sides, caressing their cooling flesh in silence. 

Jaehaerys is deeply troubled by his feelings. He… loves Viserys. How couldn’t he? The father of his child and the only man who was brave enough to ask his hand in marriage when no one else would have him. 

Jaehaerys taps his shoulder blade, sun-kissed by the unforgiving sun of the east. “Yes?” 

The room is dark in the evening light, a cerulean blue surrendering to the midnight shrine. There is a lone candle burning on the bedside table, and an empty cradle. 

Do you even like me? 

His husband scoffs. “That again?” 

Jaehaerys blinks, his nails leaving moon-shaped bruises on him. Viserys leans on his forearms and grabs a lock of sweaty hair. His braid is ruined and trashed, the strands of silver-gold escaping its confines. 

“Jae, you are not making any sense,” he is serious now, his voice soft. “Am I doing something wrong?” No. Jaehaerys shakes his head. “Have I done something to guarantee your mistrust?” No. Never. His husband stares at him quizzically. Usually that is a look reserved for the Small Council and its flock of lickspittles. “Then why do you doubt what I feel for you?” 

Jaehaerys looks up at him with sadness. He cannot name the throbbing pain that burgeons in his chest. His scent sours and his cheeks heat with embarrassment. 

“If - if you’ve heard something that made you feel this way, then don’t believe it. I’ve only ever wanted you. When we were younger, I only wanted to be in your favor. I strove to meet the requirements of courting; to give you the thickest books and craft the loveliest pieces of jewelry. I - “he sighs, leaning until their noses are touching. “I cannot undo the past, I cannot give you your voice back, my love. But I would never have another, or wish for another, over you.” 

Jaehaerys throws his arms around him, the heels of his hands running down his naked back. He mouths the words, but only a throaty gasp leaves his throat. Viserys cannot hear him or see him. He tries again with his hands, tearing away from him. 

I love you. 

It was Viserys who showed him that there were many other ways to show appreciation than using only words; many shades to speaking. His will was no less powerful just because he couldn’t talk. 

Viserys had come to court in a flourish of giggles and sparkling wit. He was the antidote to their king’s gloom. He had treated Jaehaerys with kindness and taught him and his sister a way to communicate with each other. He’d made Jaehaera smile, a true tender sight that made them all sniff. 

His sweet husband laughs, holding on to his ankles and using his free hand to blow him a kiss. 

“I love you too, sweetheart.” 

Chapter Text

Do I have to do this? 

The Septa sniffles, and nods gravely, her lined wrinkled face set in a severe pout. She is slower in mind, but still educated enough in Jaehaerys’ communications skills, or lack thereof. 

He sighs, his throat rattling, a shallow pain pulses like a fresh-drawn wound and he winces. 

“Fear not, my prince, you will be accompanied by some of your new ladies-in-waiting.” He blinks, rounding on her. “ oh? Were you not aware? A fresh bout of them sailed for the capital when the positions were made available. You flourished a year and a half ago. It is high time you exploit that knowledge we've imparted on you.” 

Jaehaerys narrows his eyes. 

Such as? 

The septa sighs. “Such as managing your own household. These girls and boys are both older and younger than you are, and they are in need of guidance. Most of them have been thrown upon the marriage market and are in need of a lord spouse.” Or a lady spouse. 

That chore belongs to my sister? 

He does not want to sound selfish, he really isn’t. Jaehaerys bears his duty under his skin - that he can manage, but he is not comfortable around strangers. 

“Your sister the Queen has many responsibilities, and she has already taken her own wing of omegas and betas to foster. They are more jaded and of higher birth. Their marriage alliances would secure more stability to the kingdom.” 

His gaze falls, hands wrinkling the fabric of his dress. Are they here now? 

The septa hesitates, her wide blue eyes distant and chalked. “I cannot understand, my prince.” 

Jaehaerys retains a pitiful long sigh. His Septa Morelle cannot stand him stemming from such pitiful noises. 

Let’s go, then. 

That, she understands. 

A KingsGuard trails after him, an imposing bleak figure that holds the handle of his sword too tight. The clang of steel grates at his nerves as he passes the royal courtyards, but a catch of silver-gold has him darting his eyes on and about the courtyard grounds. 

The shadowed face of the wielder melts in a crowd of black and white, and before long Jaehaerys is saddled with a flock of excited maidens of all ages. The journey to the Sept might’ve taken days, but in truth it was only a short trek of half an hour. 

Jaehaerys smiles pleasantly and entertains some of them when he is not too busy sparing a suffering stare out of the carriage window.

Lady Jeyne Fell, a kinswoman from a lower branch of her house, gets green in the face at facing the pungent smell of the City. Jaehaerys pities her, and he snaps his hands in a sequence of gestures that have most of them blinking at each other nervously. 

“The prince is saying that King’s Landing is not for the soft hearted…” his Septa Morelle drawls, her soft cheeks scrunching. “I agree with him. I was born and raised in Old Town. It is a hardship we must endure.”

Most of them concur, their giggles drowning the hastening snap of the horses as they rush into the Sept. 

Jaehaerys is greeted by the ashen sun of Kings Landing. Now that the spring has passed and summer is near, the storms have been slamming them mercilessly, draping them all in a sheet of gray. 

“That dress is immaculate, my prince,” Lady Lucinda Penrose, a sickly sweet smelling omega, compliments. Jaehaerys spares a look at his long emerald gown, so long that it could well serve as a tourney pavilion. The only saving grace was the half-knot laying loose around his narrow waist, drawing out his thin and slight figure. 

Jaehaerys smiles wanly. 

“That was commissioned by the Queen herself as a name day gift to her twin brother,” the Septa said, coursing a hand down her shawl. Jaehaerys nods briefly, and touches the seams of his own snow-white shawl. He must look the embodiment of virtue now that he was a courted omega, about to secure a marriage. 

The gown was indeed marvelous, golden flower drops and leaf stems sewn into the green velvet bodice to make the holder sparkle.

A few silent septons bow to them, and Jaehaerys holds back another tired sigh when he is hooded under the dim lights of the flickering candles, hugging the stone carvings of the sacred seven pointed stars and their equally stony gods. 

The smell of wax and fragrance hangs heavy, their composition barely letting out a puff of smoke. They breathe it in easily. “Let us have a seat, and kneel before our fair gods.” 

They obey. 

The High Septon floats with an air of tranquility into the room, his long flowing robes pristine and devoid of ornaments. “A pleasure to host you today, my prince.” Then he circles them, and some girls he greets, and some boys he kisses on the forehead. “We are here to learn about penitence and humbleness.” 

“My septa drilled in me the same moto,” Lord Janos Fossoways murmurs. He is seated next to him and takes very little space, scrawnier and shorter of stature. He is perhaps ten and two, and not even presented. 

Jaehaerys tilts his head pensively, and watches the long thin hands of the High Septon pululate the air as he utters a prayer to every saint. 

To the mother and the crone and the warrior; to grant strength in the endeavors and fertility for their hearty wombs, and wisdom to raise a pack and carve them in the way of the faith. 

“… we are your devoted servants, pious and ashamed of your might.” Jaehaerys stares at the unseeing eyes of the statues, and the long pendants chained to their necks. He refuses to sport one of his own. “Sin sloshes in the belly of many - of your intended, here gathered to ask for the faith and guidance through perilous challenges.” 

Some of them squirm in their seats, their cheeks hued a deep red. Jaehaerys cannot tear his eyes away from the burning orange embers, and the resilient conviction of the Septon’s lecture. 

He fails to notice the light but assured steps on the cobblestone, absentmindedly thinking how his feet are laying atop a tomb of his ancestors - of his mother and father. But the floor looks unblemished and cold. 

Septa Morelle whispers her prayers under her breath, watery tears shuddering out of her lashes. 

“The faith will cleanse your mind of the defilement and corruption of the world - “ the steps grow closer. “ Lust is perdition. You are pure, and you must remain so. The Gods reap their favor…” he stutters, and his milky eyes catch the gaze of the stranger interrupting his custom. “Mediate your urges.” then he almost folds himself in half, startling some of the maids in attendance. “My Prince.” 

Jaehaerys feels the downy hair of his arms stand on end, as though electrified. 

“I hope I am not intruding. - Rise, High Septon, please, forgive me.” His voice is a rippling echo of melodies and melting iron. He speaks wrongly, with a foreign accent acquired from his time abroad. 

Jaehaerys turns almost eagerly to meet him, his fingers flexing. Viserys, his intended, scourges the room as if he belonged there, blinding them all with this old inhumane beauty. 

The Septa and his attendants, some fresh from youth and others soaked in knowledge, burst to their feet. 

They bow low, and lower still for at their center stands the Prince Viserys, the Crown Prince of Dragonstone whilst his brother remains childless. 

This is Jaehaerys’ betrothed. 

“You must not apologize, Lord Hand.” The Septon’s eyes consider the golden pin perched atop his breast. “We are honored to host you here.” 

“Then, I must ask you a request,” he flashes them a smile, almost apologetic. A few of the omegas sigh. “I need to speak to my intended, Prince Jaehaerys. I couldn’t think of a more serene place than the home of our patrons.” 

Jaehaerys almost grabs the edge of his bench for leverage. Him? Viserys wanted to see him? 

“Of course,” his Septa half-laughs. She follows the call of his alluring blood that drives people mad with desire. “You may have him.” 

Before long, they empty the room, fleeing, almost, -  for they cannot stare at his beauty for long unless they burn. Jaehaerys dreamt of the licking fire, and does not fear it anymore than he does blood. 

Viserys, he greets, his eyes wide with curiosity. Good day.

His betrothed snorts, shortening the distance between them with a stride of his long legs. “Jae,” he purrs, and lays an innocent kiss on his hand. Jaehaerys is rendered speechless for a second, but attempts to school his flustering with a half-smile. 

What are you doing here? 

Viserys’ shrewd gaze follows the memento of his hands, and he is smiling widely. He is a man of many talents, and the one who instilled in him the foreign language of communications. 

“I thought you might want a reprieve?” He poised this as a question, but the delicate curve of his mouth says otherwise. Jaehaerys snorts, and cranes his neck to look at the sealed doors. “They left you alone, be not afraid.” 

You saw me… before. 

“Indeed. I was about to start my morning training. I couldn’t just ignore your dismay as you were lifted into the carriage. That wouldn’t be very chivalrous of me.” 

Jaehaerys laughs quietly and soundlessly, as he always does. Viserys beams, and strolls with a flap of his long powerful legs to rest beside him, the smoky altar of the seven casting them aflame with their glow. 

The keeper of my sanity, he sighs, and then rolls the gold band of his emerald ring with restlessness. Viserys’ violet eyes crinkle and follow the movement, having a fill of him. 

“You are beautiful today, Jae,” he says softly. “Unnecessarily swaddled, and covered,” he takes the seam of his white linen shawl, and tugs at it. 

I am here to preach morality, I think… Then, he rolls his eyes. The Septon was attacking us omega sinners. 

“Oh. I think I heard some of it.” He mules this over, his once short hair now growing wild at the tips. It gives him a sort of roguish look. “Gibberish, if you ask me.” 

Jaehaerys nods, his eyes surveying the mother above. It does. 

The beeswax and the candle’s shabby dance halt his thoughts. There is a false sense of security in this place that no one could grant, he thinks bitterly. 

Then he feels a glare jarring into the side of his head, his heart beating faster and his stomach flipping. Even him, not one prone to be vain, is not shy to admit his betrothed’s attempts at getting under his skirts. His touch scalded him and Viserys hadn’t even touched him yet.

“Jae, what do they know of sin, anyway…” then his hands wander, long and veiny digits that have tasted honey and clover and slick, and suckled at it until he squirmed. “They’ve never known it—

Viserys, he panics, expecting to find judging stares from every shadowy corner. Not here. 

“—to be so pleasurable.” 

They are outside. They could hear us. 

But he cannot whisper the words to the wind anymore that he could change time, and Viserys grin feels filthy and bold as he lowers in the form of prayer. In front of him. 

Jaehaerys’ chest rises and falls, and his breath rattles in his windpipe. 

“Such a care put in these long train of skirts,” the emerald hues draped around him look odd, and in his feverish mind, Jaehaerys giggles. 

Viserys only hums, and pushes one of his ankles apart, careful not to throttle the ornaments on his slippers - all a shade of light sea-green or dark bud green. 

They will come looking for us. You know we are not married—

“Yet.” 

Yes. They cannot find us sullying the Sept. 

“They try and fail to educate the braying mop,” Jaehaerys shudders when he feels hot feathery kisses laid on his knees and then the curve of his thighs, the crown of silver-gold swallowed in green velvet. “what is one more indiscretion for them?” 

Now Viserys cannot look at him and craft his thoughts out. Jaehaerys lays a hand around his lithe shoulders, the grip feeble. 

The sensitive option would be to push him back, but Viserys is now toying with his undergarments, pushing them to the side, and huffing a hot puff of breath before parting his cunt with deft fingers. 

Jaehaerys pushes him closer, and closer still to his wet heat when he laps at it. His hands fist, and his breath grows short and brash. 

A soundless scream rips out of him when devious lips circle his mound, crushing Viserys’ face with his flanking thighs. 

Viserys groans, and grips his hip-bones with bruising strength. 

A coil of fear overwhelms his traitorous need, and some sense of reason creeps in from rooted morality. This is the heart of the faith, and the city is the Targaryen’s seat of power - the place where most of them died already. 

What they’re doing is open defiance and rebellion, spurning the gods and their chosen priests. 

Jaehaerys grits his teeth, his cunt clenching when a teasing finger dips inside his hole. He slaps Viserys’ shoulder blades, trying to roll his hips away, whimpering when candle wax burns his fingertips. 

But then he feels him moan around him, his tongue brutally sucking his nub, stroking the fire in his belly. 

Jaehaerys knocks some of the candle trays, letting them fall and shatter and drown his heaving breaths when his seed paints his stomach and legs. 

Viserys laps his hole, quaffing the new spurt of slick out of him with contented little noises. Afterwards, he brushes kisses on his pale flesh, his touch sensitive. Jaehaerys is clutching his rumpled neckline, his heart pounding and his forehead dampened with sweat. 

“Nectar,” he is tasting his slick with his fingers, his hair rowdy and his red lips plump and shining with spit. Jaehaerys’ spent cock pulses. “offered to me from the gods - what a gift.” 

His hands are trembling, so his articulations are a little crooked, but his brilliant betrothed grins wider. 

Should you think they heard us? 

“Mmm, I think they haven’t - or well, are trying to.” 

Jaehaerys looks at the closed doors with a mortified expression. His Septa and the new ladies-in-waiting are outside, probably loitering near the entrance. 

And here he was, their new mistress, spreading his legs on the high altar they were made to venerate. 

Viserys. 

His betrothed chuckles, and then veers closer to his flushed face, pressing their lips together in a chaste kiss. Jaehaerys snorts. 

“I would’ve fucked your sweet cunt, Jae,” he murmurs. “I am so tempted to bend you here and plowell my seed inside you. To make our first babe here, out of wedlock, and on their watch.”

Jaehaerys gasps, his mouth falling open with shock. Viserys’ sweet laugh is engulfed in his mouth, their lusted pheromones wafting the air with tartness. 

We are going to get in trouble. 

Viserys hums, his hands finding purchase in the curve of his waist. “We are dragons, Jae. They can try. This is a sacrificial pit after all.”