Chapter Text
Ormund could hardly keep his eyes off the boy, pretty as any other Targaryen, Ormund would be such a fool not to stare.
But dear Daeron hardly looked the part anymore dressed in Hightower green, his hair dyed an auburn colour to mask the identity of his true nature.
The lilac eyes and his scent was the only thing telling him apart from the others.
The only traits telling Daeron apart from his own Omega Lady wife waiting for him back in Old Town because, by the God’s, did the boy remind Ormund every part of her, he was sure he could put Daeron in one of those bodice dresses and have him masquerading around as a woman instead of a squire and everyone around them would believe it, even if Daeron was seemingly on the taller side.
But it wasn’t just Daeron’s fair looks, nor his intoxicating scent that had Ormund reaching for something adjacent to the smell as he carried against it his hip in a metal incense burner, no, it was the way the boy followed his orders like a lost pup, no matter what Ormund asked of him, Daeron did such without question.
Ormund was sure he could tell him to kill one of his own brothers or perhaps even his cunt mother and Daeron would do it in a heartbeat.
His own little Targaryen terror, though terror was a subjective word.
“So your King brother is either dead or has deserted his kingship while your other brother parades on the Iron Throne as some sort of stand-in”.
Ormund had to laugh, he’d only conversed with the children Alicent raised a few times in their younger years, Aemond Targaryen would pose as a terrible king.
“The Green army is here to keep the rightful heir on that God’s forsaken throne and yet it seems without my uncle’s influence it has left the family to their own devices, one a cripple, the other practically a second Daemon Targaryen”.
Ormund had to laugh, his fingers itching to grab hold of the metal hanging at the side of his hip so he could take a sniff in, his mind was already getting vexed from the entire situation, he’d had thought his immediate family would have kept everything tied together.
Apparently not, and now that was all up to him.
Though one King was just as good as any, he had mentioned that prior, so having Aemond on the throne shouldn’t be an issue though this situation only fuelled something inside Ormund he’d only thought about before in delirious passing— when he’d been too high on his inhalants.
Daeron on the Iron Throne.
It had been an irrational thought before, but now? It seemed entirely possible and Daeron was, oh so, pliable.
To have him on the throne and then Ormund could be his Hand and Lord Commander of the Seven Kingdom’s.
Now that was his Hightower ambition thinking.
Ormund couldn’t help the smirk that pulled to his lips in his wicked rumination.
“Ser Ormund?”
Daeron’s sweet voice brought Ormund out of his thoughts and he was once more fixated on the Omega.
“Apologies, you were in thought, I—”.
How was Daeron ever so compassionate compared to the rest of his family?
Ormund just shook his head as he approached, reaching his hand out to cup the side of Daeron’s face, his thumb pressing against the Prince’s high cheekbone.
“You need not address me so formally when we’re alone, Daeron, how many times have I told you this? You may be squire but you are also my blood”.
He smiled at the boy, now he was starting to understand why his own uncle wanted Hightower blood on the throne so desperately too.
“It would be chaos to keep Aemond on the throne with how unpredictable he can be, the people won't rally to him as they did Aegon”.
Ormund’s hand fell, eyes fixating on Daeron’s soft hair as his fingers danced through it.
“But… He isn’t the only option”.
His eyes were staring into Daeron’s lovely ones then.
“You”.
Daeron’s lips parted and he wasn’t even sure how to respond to that, it wasn’t like he was ever raised to be a King, Hell’s, he was hardly raised to be a Prince!
“My L—Ormund you can’t simply think that I would do any better than my brother? I haven’t a clue about Kingship nevermind ruling the entirety of Westeros! I wouldn’t even know where to start”.
Daeron’s words were panicked, embarrassingly staring down at the ground as he tried not to be frantic about the sudden notion Ormund was offering.
“I think you’d be perfect, you are perfect, my boy”.
Ormund forced the young lad to look at him as his hand curled around Daeron’s neck with a soft touch, craning the Targaryen’s gaze to match his own.
“You trust in me don’t you?”
He always had, Ormund knew Daeron wasn’t going to doubt him now.
“Well yes but—”.
God’s above did Daeron remind Ormund of Samantha when he talked like that… or perhaps it was the opposite and it had been the exact reason why Ormund liked her so much with her likeliness to Daeron.
And then, Ormund shut him up with a kiss.
It wasn’t the first time Ormund had kissed him; a time when the boy had one too many drinks but it had also been the only time Ormund had scented Daeron and perhaps that’s where his obsession with the Omega’s scent had started.
And then there had been another instance during a heated exchange of training that led to Daeron grinding his cunt up against Ormund’s leg in a pathetic attempt to get off, neither of them mentioned it thereafter.
Daeron was rigid for a moment with shock as his hands darted out to grab hold onto the older man’s armored forearms but he made no attempt to pull back whence he melted against him.
“Cousin—”.
Daeron’s lips had tried to mutter against the elder Knight’s but Ormund seemed too enchanted to pull back just yet, his cock had been stirring under his armor the moment he’d been thinking about Daeron in that damn dress.
Seven, Ormund knew Daeron could fill it better than his wife ever could.
“Please— ah”.
Ormund’s knee pressed up against Daeron’s crotch, eliciting a whine from the young Omega and then finally, the Lord Commander pulled back with hand still cupped around the boy’s neck though his other hand had fallen to the front of Daeron’s breeches.
“My King”
Ormund’s delusions got the better of him, his palm pressing flat against the front of Daeron’s clothed cunt, pulling another delicious sound from his little cousin.
“A King would need an heir and a spare and now what would you do if you don’t know how to pleasure a Lord?”
Again, Daeron was so good at following orders.
“On your knees, your majesty”.
Daeron hesitated, even just for a split second before he slowly descended to the ground, eyes blown wide as he stared up at his Lord Commander and Ormund looked down at him with an impressed expression whilst a hand reached to his hip and grabbed the metal ball only to reach down and force the Omega to inhale in the substance.
A sharp gasp tore from Daeron’s mouth as his whole body relaxed and his eyes rolled to the back of his head for a moment then his pupils expanded once he stared back up at Ormund and his mind felt— felt like nothing he’d ever experienced before.
Whatever was in that thing scented so familiar to himself but of course that wasn’t the only thing considering his body's reaction.
“My Lord…”
But Ormund just tutted at him as he tied the metal back to his hip before his grip had found itself in Daeron’s hair.
“You wouldn’t be addressing anyone like that when you rule over these Kingdom’s, my dear”.
Ormund’s manipulation was mixing with the drugs in Daeron’s system as the boy absentmindedly nodded.
His gaze was fixated on Ormund’s face until he heard the rattling of steel and chainmail and he was quickly realising the Alpha was pulling out his cock.
Arousal spiked within Daeron, especially when the cock was in front of him, almost measuring up to his face.
And down there, the boy painted a pretty picture of overwhelm as Ormund witnessed Daeron reach his smaller hand up in the most inexperienced way possible and wrap his fingers around the Alpha’s large cock, unknowing what to exactly do and yet everything about the situation was leading Ormund into wicked thoughts; picturing the young Omega’s mouth stuffed full of his own cock as he struggled to take more in.
And just like that, Ormund wondered what Daeron’s cunt felt like too.
A King would need heirs after all.
“Fuck” The long drawn out moan of a curse that fell from Ormund’s lips spurred Daeron on as he seemed to be doing something right when his hand jerked up and down his elder cousin’s cock, the boy got confident enough to reach his head forward, lips catching against the tip as his tongue darted out the underside.
“Yes, God’s, that’s right, can you take it in more for me?”
The soft guiding tone from Ormund made determination run through Daeron as his split slick lips wrapped around the head and he was swallowing down the cock, pressing his mouth further down on him and taking as much as he could already until more tears began to spring to Daeron’s eyes, clumping his lashes and he began to struggle.
The Omega was forced to pull away, coughing and spluttering as a line of spit still connected his lips to Ormund’s dick.
Daeron might have thought he looked every bit wretched but to Ormund it was just about the most seductive thing he’d ever seen.
See, another thing Ormund loved about his boy is that he didn’t need to ask, perhaps the one thing he liked about Targaryen’s was their unwavering resolve;
Daeron was on him again, lips pulling taunt around the Alpha’s cock as he pressed down even further than before, tongue resting against the underside as he slowly pulled back— then ascended his mouth back down again and again.
The wet gagging sound that vibrated against the Alpha’s cock every single time the head hit against the back of Daeron’s soon abused throat was absolute sin and nothing less than what Ormund expected of a King.
“Great Seven” They were probably looking down on the Lord Commander right now, watching as his boy serviced him and judging, Ormund would take their judgement to the Sept and confess in due time, but some sins were broken for a reason and Daeron was too enticing of one not to indulge.
The hand on Daeron’s hair tightened as he continuously guided the boy up and down on his dick, watching as his cock disappeared between those stretched lips and into the wet heat of his eager mouth that had even Daeron moaning around him like a little whore.
Every single one of those noises were going straight to Ormund’s loins, heightening his already enlarged ego.
The Alpha’s eyes flickered over the young lad as he got closer and closer to his release, Daeron’s hips were twitching against nothing in some feeble attempt to get himself off, it was cute, if they had anymore time Ormund might allow him to grind on his leg again.
Ormund’s own hips jerked as the head of his cock bruised the back of Daeron’s mouth and he was finally spilling down his throat, almost tempted to knot his lips but he wouldn’t be so cruel for the boy’s first time.
In due time, surely.
When the Alpha felt his knot begin to swell, he pulled out, hand untensing and cradling the back of Daeron’s hair as the boy whimpered, throat sore as the Prince coughed.
Drool dripped out the corner of his mouth that Ormund caught with his other hand and pushed it back against Daeron’s tongue as he forced his thumb past Omega’s lips.
“You did well, My King”.