CW: omegaverse-adjacent, dom/sub undertones, canonical violence, weird dragon magic, heat/rut, period typical mysoginistic language, sex
( The bond between a dragon and its rider is a strong one, a thing of blood magic so old that it cannot be comprehended by those without Valyrian blood. Men say that Targaryens are closer to gods than mere mortal men. And they are, but they are, but the connection to the great creatures that makes them such comes with a price to be paid. For all the complications that already come with being an omega and heir to the throne. The designation does not remove him from the line of succession, for as a man it comes with nothing more than the inconvenience of a heat that leads to nothing instead of turning him into a broodmare for some political ally. But. But it does draw in attention he does not want when his cycle is near and pulls him from his duties as Prince of Dragonstone.
The complication comes because of Dragons. Or particularly, it comes because of Vermax. Vermax, who shared his cradle and mirrors a designation a male dragon should not bare. Which makes his season more difficult to predict than Jace's own.
Which is why Jacaerys had thought nothing of the fever the morning prior, the discomfort in his gut. It did not occur to him until his own scent rippened the second day, until Vermax emerged from the Dragonmount to cry for a proper mate upon the jagged clifftops below. Silverwing had likely rejected him and other candidates were gone from the castle with Moondancer and Baela in Driftmark for the time being.
It leaves a pecarious position, but one the Crown Prince had wanted to ignore when he'd left his chambers this morning. It is also the reason he stands in his solar, before a small dining table, with arms crossed and frowning at the Queen's Guard before him. His mother had sent him to Dragonstone with one personal guard, Hawkins of House Strong, who'd made his oath and donned his cloak before the new Queen and her King Consort. A cousin to Ser Harwin, the resemblence visible. Perhaps there is irony in the assignment, considering Jace's true sire and his own mother's history with Sworn Protectors of House Strong. Yet, his Sworn Protector is an honorable man, Jacaerys knows, and an Alpha worthy of bearing the duty assigned to him. To guard a prince, an heir, is no small duty. He smells of clove, of sweat, of metals and sharp spice even from where he stands across the room. And he is handsome, Jacaerys is keenly aware of that without the animal inside wishing for the Queensguard to step closer. Afterall, he has seen the Alpha's eyes upon him as he has looked himself. )
I am in no danger in this castle, Ser Hawkins. Are you saying you cannot keep me safe here? ( he means for it to come out questioning, stern. Instead, the words are cut by a gasp and groan as he leans his hands on the table before him to remain upright. Perhaps there had been reason for him to be absconded from the training grounds and back to his own rooms, but defiance remains in the prince's gaze as he is herded like a child and not a man shy of twenty summers. )
[there are some that may say hawkins fuller has kept his white cloak unsullied only on a technicality. but by the letter of the law, he's kept his vow to protect the queen and king consort, to don the honor of serving the crown prince himself on many an occasion when the royal family finds itself occupied outside of dragonstone. that doesn't mean he's found himself alone some nights when he takes that cloak off outside the castle walls - not when he's in the company of strong, dark-haired and chisel-jawed men often younger than he, the kind who are undeniably strong even in their naiveté, though less likely to cause problems for it. so long as he fathers no bastards, deflowers no maidens, and lays with no women - he isn't besmirching his duties, nor is he breaking his oath even if it's by mere semantics.
but he takes his station seriously, knowing that there are moments when he will sully that cloak so the queen and king consort and prince and eventually princess will not have to dirty their own hands - and he knows it will be as near as an honor as if he'd donned one of the crowns himself. part of him expects that the rest of his companions will be much the same - to the queens liking of dark-haired, well-built, solid and strong and undeniably set in their ways as alphas. though he supposes an omega might very well be a useful tool all the same in the queensguard - underestimated, perhaps undervalued for their mere standing. the sharp edge of a knife no one might see coming.
it's why admittedly he's fascinated by the young prince. whipsmart, handsome and fierce in his loyalty and his desire to make a difference in his mother's rule and standing amongst the kingdom. he's been told from a young age that he'll make a fine ruler of his own someday, and hawk knows it to be true as surely as he sees the raven-haired, dark-eyed features that render him a beauty as if he were the subject of a children's fairytale. but the targaryens are practically fairy tale themselves, even if jacaerys velaryon isn't the usual on looks alone. maybe it's that which has drawn hawk to him in the rare moments he's assigned to his side - the knowledge that if whispers are to be believed, perhaps there is more than just circumstance that pulls between them like a blood red thread of fate.
but like any omega, there are bound to be complications. he hadn't expected to wind up at the center of it in jacaerys' chambers, surrounded by the intoxicating and heady scent of an undeniable heat. it nearly makes his knees buckle and his whole body ache with desire - a need to claim it by force, to supercede decorum and titles and let the demand that resides solely within their bodies take over. nature demands that someone like hawkins is entitled an omega like jace - a lithe body begging to be breeded and commanded and taken. his eyes are wide, pupils blown black between the rings of oceanic blue as he grits his teeth and lets his jaw be the only tremor to reveal his own discomfort when everything is screaming at him to bar that door for more than just jace's own protection. he does it anyway, unsure how much time they have.]
Of course not, your Grace. I can keep you safe under any conditions - but it is the other men who will pay the price within these walls.
[the other alphas - young, inexperienced and likely never having even had their first ruts. hawkins holds himself well because of his own discipline and experience, the weathered skin of his hands and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that speak of years lived to their fullest while his counterparts were still nestled into cradles and suckling at their mothers. is this jace's first heat? hawk knows the legends from the dragon keep: that they are often tied to the cycles of their otherworldly companions of old valyria in more than just the way they are permitted to ride.]
You must come with me. The Queen has commanded I keep you safe at all costs - that means you're obliged to heed my decisions, even if you don't agree with them.
[there's a challenge to pretty brown eyes, a jut of his smooth chin, and hawk longs to stroke his fingers across it before bending it in submission. his eyes slip closed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and keep fighting the overwhelming onslaught of raw omega heat that permeates the entire room.]
There's an island not far from here - it was used for training the royal guard when the tides are low. They're high now; but it won't matter. No one will follow us there. You or Vermax.
And then...we simply wait.
[for biology to run its course. for jace to suffer through the worst of it burning up like fever, wet and desperate for something that no one else should think to take from him. there's a throb of lust at the thought of it, and hawk is grateful to be burning up just as much under the heavy suit of armor as he steps forward and offers his hand.]
Your trail grows stronger and more irresistible, my Prince. We must go now, before we're surrounded.
( If speaking to any other prince of the realm, it would be foolish to mention the other men in the castle. After all, to a dragon what is a mere mortal man? But Jacaerys frowns slightly as he thinks of those in the castle tempted, those pulled from their duties because he cannot control his scent as well as he ought. It strikes a nerve; the right nerve.
And the prince curses under his breath, a pout on his lips that he does not realise has taken shape. Logic remains still within his grasp, though it floats away ever slowly as the waves of his heat crash against his shores and wash away all else that could remain. He wonders what he smells like, then, to Hawkins. Baela has always described his smell as warmth, as a familiar hearth and shelter from a storm. Until his anger flares, that is, and the fire rages in his scent. In a heat, he wonders how it changes. And if to an Alpha who is at best a distant cousin if rumors are to be trusted, it smells differently than someone of Valyrian blood.
Hawkins smells tempting as ever and Jace grows more and more aware of the sweat on his brow, the clove that clings to him like smoke from herbs smoked. He does not realise that he's moved around the table until his knees feel weak and he leans back against it, steadying himself as his hands grip the edges of the wood. )
An island? ( he asks, dumbly. ) You mean for me to fly like this?
( he does not realise at that moment that he's given in, conceded that Hawkins is right and they must leave Dragonstone before the pull of his scent is too much. But Jacaerys is not sure that he can fly in this state, is sure that Vermax would not listen to his orders to take to the skies if there was not a better prize than misery at the end.
And then-- then he realises, stands straighter again and hopes that he looks more prince-like than he feels with his stomach tight with cramps, with a dampness starting to make itself known between his legs. ) Her Grace bid you to keep me safe by any means, Ser Strong. To take me through the castle like this would be just as unwise as staying here.
( he takes a step closer, ) To clear my mind and so Vermax may fly us, I need an Alpha's help.
(Help me, help me, havemehavemehavemehaveme, his pheromones scream in ways that the little prince cannot put to words but knows he will surely beg if he must suffer the worst of it alone. All other heats have not wrecked him so, have not come on so quickly. Perhaps because Vermax had not been alone those other times, desperate as he is and feeding his desperation into Jace's mind and body so he sways forward until one palm lands on the cool armor of Hawk's chest plate.
The metal hides a broad chest beneath it, the Alpha before him the peak of strength and temptation before him. ) You would protect me from the others if they found us here, wouldn't you? If we were surrounded.
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WESTEROS AU | @homosexuals
Date: 2025-03-17 09:56 pm (UTC)( The bond between a dragon and its rider is a strong one, a thing of blood magic so old that it cannot be comprehended by those without Valyrian blood. Men say that Targaryens are closer to gods than mere mortal men. And they are, but they are, but the connection to the great creatures that makes them such comes with a price to be paid. For all the complications that already come with being an omega and heir to the throne. The designation does not remove him from the line of succession, for as a man it comes with nothing more than the inconvenience of a heat that leads to nothing instead of turning him into a broodmare for some political ally. But. But it does draw in attention he does not want when his cycle is near and pulls him from his duties as Prince of Dragonstone.
The complication comes because of Dragons. Or particularly, it comes because of Vermax. Vermax, who shared his cradle and mirrors a designation a male dragon should not bare. Which makes his season more difficult to predict than Jace's own.
Which is why Jacaerys had thought nothing of the fever the morning prior, the discomfort in his gut. It did not occur to him until his own scent rippened the second day, until Vermax emerged from the Dragonmount to cry for a proper mate upon the jagged clifftops below. Silverwing had likely rejected him and other candidates were gone from the castle with Moondancer and Baela in Driftmark for the time being.
It leaves a pecarious position, but one the Crown Prince had wanted to ignore when he'd left his chambers this morning. It is also the reason he stands in his solar, before a small dining table, with arms crossed and frowning at the Queen's Guard before him. His mother had sent him to Dragonstone with one personal guard, Hawkins of House Strong, who'd made his oath and donned his cloak before the new Queen and her King Consort. A cousin to Ser Harwin, the resemblence visible. Perhaps there is irony in the assignment, considering Jace's true sire and his own mother's history with Sworn Protectors of House Strong. Yet, his Sworn Protector is an honorable man, Jacaerys knows, and an Alpha worthy of bearing the duty assigned to him. To guard a prince, an heir, is no small duty. He smells of clove, of sweat, of metals and sharp spice even from where he stands across the room. And he is handsome, Jacaerys is keenly aware of that without the animal inside wishing for the Queensguard to step closer. Afterall, he has seen the Alpha's eyes upon him as he has looked himself. )
I am in no danger in this castle, Ser Hawkins. Are you saying you cannot keep me safe here? ( he means for it to come out questioning, stern. Instead, the words are cut by a gasp and groan as he leans his hands on the table before him to remain upright. Perhaps there had been reason for him to be absconded from the training grounds and back to his own rooms, but defiance remains in the prince's gaze as he is herded like a child and not a man shy of twenty summers. )
no subject
Date: 2025-03-31 05:06 am (UTC)but he takes his station seriously, knowing that there are moments when he will sully that cloak so the queen and king consort and prince and eventually princess will not have to dirty their own hands - and he knows it will be as near as an honor as if he'd donned one of the crowns himself. part of him expects that the rest of his companions will be much the same - to the queens liking of dark-haired, well-built, solid and strong and undeniably set in their ways as alphas. though he supposes an omega might very well be a useful tool all the same in the queensguard - underestimated, perhaps undervalued for their mere standing. the sharp edge of a knife no one might see coming.
it's why admittedly he's fascinated by the young prince. whipsmart, handsome and fierce in his loyalty and his desire to make a difference in his mother's rule and standing amongst the kingdom. he's been told from a young age that he'll make a fine ruler of his own someday, and hawk knows it to be true as surely as he sees the raven-haired, dark-eyed features that render him a beauty as if he were the subject of a children's fairytale. but the targaryens are practically fairy tale themselves, even if jacaerys velaryon isn't the usual on looks alone. maybe it's that which has drawn hawk to him in the rare moments he's assigned to his side - the knowledge that if whispers are to be believed, perhaps there is more than just circumstance that pulls between them like a blood red thread of fate.
but like any omega, there are bound to be complications. he hadn't expected to wind up at the center of it in jacaerys' chambers, surrounded by the intoxicating and heady scent of an undeniable heat. it nearly makes his knees buckle and his whole body ache with desire - a need to claim it by force, to supercede decorum and titles and let the demand that resides solely within their bodies take over. nature demands that someone like hawkins is entitled an omega like jace - a lithe body begging to be breeded and commanded and taken. his eyes are wide, pupils blown black between the rings of oceanic blue as he grits his teeth and lets his jaw be the only tremor to reveal his own discomfort when everything is screaming at him to bar that door for more than just jace's own protection. he does it anyway, unsure how much time they have.]
Of course not, your Grace. I can keep you safe under any conditions - but it is the other men who will pay the price within these walls.
[the other alphas - young, inexperienced and likely never having even had their first ruts. hawkins holds himself well because of his own discipline and experience, the weathered skin of his hands and the crinkles at the corners of his eyes that speak of years lived to their fullest while his counterparts were still nestled into cradles and suckling at their mothers. is this jace's first heat? hawk knows the legends from the dragon keep: that they are often tied to the cycles of their otherworldly companions of old valyria in more than just the way they are permitted to ride.]
You must come with me. The Queen has commanded I keep you safe at all costs - that means you're obliged to heed my decisions, even if you don't agree with them.
[there's a challenge to pretty brown eyes, a jut of his smooth chin, and hawk longs to stroke his fingers across it before bending it in submission. his eyes slip closed, shaking his head to clear his thoughts and keep fighting the overwhelming onslaught of raw omega heat that permeates the entire room.]
There's an island not far from here - it was used for training the royal guard when the tides are low. They're high now; but it won't matter. No one will follow us there. You or Vermax.
And then...we simply wait.
[for biology to run its course. for jace to suffer through the worst of it burning up like fever, wet and desperate for something that no one else should think to take from him. there's a throb of lust at the thought of it, and hawk is grateful to be burning up just as much under the heavy suit of armor as he steps forward and offers his hand.]
Your trail grows stronger and more irresistible, my Prince. We must go now, before we're surrounded.
no subject
Date: 2025-04-09 03:12 am (UTC)And the prince curses under his breath, a pout on his lips that he does not realise has taken shape. Logic remains still within his grasp, though it floats away ever slowly as the waves of his heat crash against his shores and wash away all else that could remain. He wonders what he smells like, then, to Hawkins. Baela has always described his smell as warmth, as a familiar hearth and shelter from a storm. Until his anger flares, that is, and the fire rages in his scent. In a heat, he wonders how it changes. And if to an Alpha who is at best a distant cousin if rumors are to be trusted, it smells differently than someone of Valyrian blood.
Hawkins smells tempting as ever and Jace grows more and more aware of the sweat on his brow, the clove that clings to him like smoke from herbs smoked. He does not realise that he's moved around the table until his knees feel weak and he leans back against it, steadying himself as his hands grip the edges of the wood. )
An island? ( he asks, dumbly. ) You mean for me to fly like this?
( he does not realise at that moment that he's given in, conceded that Hawkins is right and they must leave Dragonstone before the pull of his scent is too much. But Jacaerys is not sure that he can fly in this state, is sure that Vermax would not listen to his orders to take to the skies if there was not a better prize than misery at the end.
And then-- then he realises, stands straighter again and hopes that he looks more prince-like than he feels with his stomach tight with cramps, with a dampness starting to make itself known between his legs. ) Her Grace bid you to keep me safe by any means, Ser Strong. To take me through the castle like this would be just as unwise as staying here.
( he takes a step closer, ) To clear my mind and so Vermax may fly us, I need an Alpha's help.
( Help me, help me, havemehavemehavemehaveme, his pheromones scream in ways that the little prince cannot put to words but knows he will surely beg if he must suffer the worst of it alone. All other heats have not wrecked him so, have not come on so quickly. Perhaps because Vermax had not been alone those other times, desperate as he is and feeding his desperation into Jace's mind and body so he sways forward until one palm lands on the cool armor of Hawk's chest plate.
The metal hides a broad chest beneath it, the Alpha before him the peak of strength and temptation before him. ) You would protect me from the others if they found us here, wouldn't you? If we were surrounded.