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The wind cut like a blade.

The snow did not fall; it was hurled against their faces, lashing skin and pride with the same cruelty. The forest, white and endless, seemed to laugh at the recklessness of two men who should have been surrounded by an entire group… and not completely alone.

A few days earlier, Dunk had not bothered to ask why Maekar’s entire branch of the family had suddenly decided to leave King's Landing to go to Summerhall in the middle of winter, and perhaps that had been the mistake that led them to this deplorable situation.

When Maekar asked him to accompany them on the journey, Duncan thought about refusing. It was a senseless trip, the winter far too cruel to afford the luxury of riding on horseback. But when Egg — or Prince Aegon, to the more common folk — came to ask him personally, saying that his family would not return to King's Landing anytime soon, and that his presence would be more than welcome, he could not refuse.

They departed the next day, and as they rode out beyond the gates, Duncan was certain it would be a long journey and perhaps crueler than he had expected, for the fine snow filled the safe roads in a high layer. In five hours they rode what should have taken an entire day, but Duncan found himself thinking again of the days when he had still been merely a hedge knight, and how he had already faced worse roads with Ser Arlan.

The difference was that Ser Arlan did not act like a splinter that had slipped beneath the nail, like a certain well-groomed prince.

Among the family members was him, the omega prince Brightflame, Aerion, wearing a heavy red cloak stitched with scale-shaped seams, his nose held high and his usual proud gaze. But he seemed and acted irritated, his body drawn into the cloak, his jaw tight together with his brows furrowed.

Everything around him was a reason for the prince to open his mouth and release a complaint that would last at least two hours. “Aegon is talking too much, Daeron was almost falling off his horse, the horse is breathing too loudly, Aegon is breathing.” It reached a point where he began to recycle the reasons, finding more creative ways to wear down the patience of anyone who came too close.

At some point — which the knight still could not tell when — Aerion decided that he would be the next target. Perhaps because Maekar simply pretended he had been struck by an illness that made him incapable of hearing his own son’s voice, or perhaps it was because Duncan had been caught staring more than was allowed at the way he moved atop the horse.

Do not blame him, the omega looked majestic even in the middle of a fit of petulance. His short hair covered by part of the cloak, the tip of his nose and ears red, he seemed more pleasant like that. However, he acted nothing like pleasant when speaking to Duncan, his tone heavy with resentment and even hatred. So much hatred coming from the mouth of such a beautiful omega seemed like a crime.

Aerion seemed to enjoy the way the knight could not find answers for his malicious provocations, and he enjoyed it even more when he saw that Duncan’s patience was hanging by a thread.

It was during one of these provocations that disaster struck. The prince was releasing one insult after another and Duncan held the horse’s reins tightly, his jaw clenched to keep from opening his mouth in a retort that would cost him some of his teeth, when the weather changed.

The wind, which until then had been blowing steadily, seemed to hold its breath among the trees. The riders scattered along the road drew closer together, eyes alert to the sudden shift. For the first time in hours the prince fell silent, his lips forced into a straight line, his breath leaving a faint mist hanging in the frozen air.

When the cold wind returned, the air grew dense. The snow rose from the ground, spinning into a white vortex that swallowed the trail, the horses, the men. Shouts echoed ahead — orders, warnings — and then were torn apart by the howl of a creeping storm. It came from nowhere, blocking sight to barely two meters, the whistling of the tall trees like the songs of birds.

“Close the formation,” Duncan managed to hear Maekar shouting a few meters away, the voice low as if it were being swallowed by the snow.

Visibility dropped to only a few meters. Shadows of what had been men became smudges, smudges that became nothing. The knight’s attention was pulled to the prince complaining beside him, his horse growing restless, striking its hooves against the ground hidden beneath the snow.

“Stay by my side, my prince!” Duncan shouted against the wind, twisting the reins to draw closer.

“I am here, am I not?”

Another gust of wind pushed the horses back, the world suddenly turning white. The knight reached out a hand toward the man beside him, but found nothing but frozen air. The prince’s figure, which had been there a second before, turned into an indistinct blur.

“Aerion,” Duncan called, his voice heavy, a bad feeling clinging to and squeezing his stomach.

“I am here,” the answer came close, but already displaced.

The storm seemed to distort everything. Sound, direction, distance — the sensation was like being underwater in the middle of nowhere. The knight moved forward a few steps, guiding himself by the prince’s voice, and when he finally reached him, he grabbed the reins of his horse firmly, bringing him as close as possible.

“I remember asking you not to stray,” his voice came out low, a deeper cold finally striking against his bones. “Do not let go.”

“I am not an idiot,” the omega retorted, but his voice was louder than necessary. There was tension and cold surrounding them, the horses growing restless, striking their hooves against the ground and snorting as they were pushed back.

Duncan forced his eyes open, trying to see through the wild white wall. Around them, there was no sign of any other man. No banner visible, no outline of armor, only white.

The knight slowly turned his horse in search of any sign of tracks, but the snow covered the ground with frightening speed, erasing everything that had existed seconds before.

“They cannot be far…” Duncan said quietly, mostly to himself, avoiding thinking about the way his ears ached from the sharp whistling of the wind.

“We only need to keep going forward, they cannot have strayed from the road,” Aerion’s voice came out trembling, his gloved hands gripping his cloak tightly to hide from the cold.

The tall man nodded, urging the stallion to move against the storm. The wind roared, the trees swayed in a violent dance, the many layers of wool no longer seemed so effective, the cold reaching even the skin as if the fabric were made of paper.

They rode, and rode, and rode a little more, but there was no sign of anyone else. The understanding fell between them with the same weight as the snow gathering on their shoulders — they had not strayed far, but the storm had swallowed them so cruelly that the others could be just ahead or in a completely different place.

“We need shelter, my prince,” the knight brought his mount closer to Aerion’s, automatically positioning himself slightly ahead, as if he could block winter itself with his body. “Trying to find them now is not a good choice, we will only become more lost.”

Aerion huffed irritably but nodded, a pout forming on his pale lips. Duncan twisted the reins and headed toward the dense forest.

Once, Ser Arlan had taught him how to protect himself against storms like this. “Avoid open areas. If you are too far from shelter, look for dense trees that block the wind and the snow. And perhaps, if the gods are on your side, you will find some house to hide from the cold.” He used to say, and although Duncan had never put it into practice, he trusted the old man’s wisdom.

The lesson soon proved true. The gusts of wind and snow still struck them violently, but now the thick trees helped enough that it was possible to see more than five meters ahead. Duncan looked back to make sure Aerion was still nearby; their eyes met for a long second. The prince was completely covered by the red cloak, only his eyes and nose visible. Dunk thought he looked cute like that.

Another blast of snow struck them, and a branch cracked somewhere in the distance. The prince’s horse neighed, restless, and moved abruptly, as if it wanted to throw the omega from its back. Aerion hissed at the poor animal, striking his heels down hard, trying to control it, but he had no chance. The white stallion neighed loudly and reared violently onto its two hind legs.

In a quick motion Duncan dismounted from his own horse and walked toward them in long strides, his hands raised as he tried to calm the frightened animal. The stallion tossed its head, dragging its hooves against the snow-covered ground, but soon it was reduced to nothing more than irritated snorts and huffs.

He breathed deeply, relieved to have calmed the animal. When he looked up, checking whether Aerion was well and unharmed, a shiver ran through his tall body. The prince held the reins tightly, lilac eyes following him with a different kind of curiosity, his face red — perhaps from the cold — and his breathing uneven.

Duncan cleared his throat, ignoring the warmth that spread across his frozen face.

“I think it would be better if we keep walking, my prince,” the knight said, shivering slightly at the way winter moved between them. “The horses are frightened…”

Aerion nodded, still seeming not to have fully recovered from the animal’s outburst.

“Here, let me help you.” Duncan raised his hands, but they were pushed away with a slap.

“I know how to get down from a horse, you idiot…” He began to move, one leg passing over the saddle, but the cloak — which seemed too large for the prince — tangled around his foot before he could fully clear it. He slipped, but the tall man caught him easily, the weight seeming to make no difference.

The knight held him firmly, large hands pressing against the cloak, and for a second — only one — they were closer than the gods allowed. Aerion’s breath trembled in the cold, the lilac eyes darkening as his pupils dilated almost automatically.

“Go ahead.” The omega cleared his throat, looking away toward the horse that a second earlier seemed to have disappeared. Duncan agreed, moving his feet in the direction they had been going before.

They set off in silence, the only things making any sound were the boots creaking as they sank into the snow, and the heavy breathing of the horses. Perhaps they had walked for minutes, or even hours, but the violent wind kept pushing them back, slipping through the layers of fabric and making their bones tremble.

Aerion began to mutter things as he walked, until the silence was broken by complaints before Duncan even noticed.

“Fuck this shit, damn it!” The prince’s voice echoed through the bare trees, far too loud for the silence of winter. “We lost the group, we lost the trail, and now I’m going to freeze to death in this damn forest, with this damn knight…”

Duncan said nothing, too focused on guiding the horses and the complaining omega, but apparently that only irritated him even more.

“This is all your fault!” Aerion said in a trembling voice, though he tried to keep it proud. The knight tightened his brows, keeping a firm hand on the reins, his eyes attentive to the shadows between the ice-covered trees.

“How is this my fault, my prince?” he replied, his voice controlled in a low tone. “I cannot control the weather.”

“Don’t play dumb now. You know what I’m talking about.”

“I beg your pardon, but I truly do not.” Duncan breathed deeply, trying to keep his nerves calm. He had been provoked before; it would not be now, in a situation like this, that he would answer the prince in a dishonorable way.

“You brought us here, into this forest, and now we’re more lost than before!” Aerion raged like a spoiled child.

“My prince agreed to come.”

“I did not expect the knight who swore protection to House Targaryen to have the sense of direction of a frozen duck.” He huffed, and Duncan could hear the irritated pout in his voice. The tall man sighed, now visibly annoyed.

“Perhaps I do have the sense of direction of a frozen duck, but at least I am not trembling like one.” he teased.

“I am not trembling.”

The knight finally turned around and looked at him closely. The prince’s lips were pale, his hands — even inside the fur-lined gloves — were shaking slightly, and his face was reddened from being battered by the cutting wind.

“Of course not, my prince. I was a fool to think you would be.” He smiled and turned away, ignoring the indignant glare burning into his back.

The silence that followed was heavy, not with true hatred — at least not on Duncan’s part — but with that chronic bickering both of them cultivated with irritating dedication. They had acted like this with each other ever since the knight chose to accompany Egg and his family; they had been like fire and powder since then, one dancing around the other, waiting for a reason to ignite and explode.

A few meters ahead the trees began to change, the density shifting and the space between them widening, and at some point the forest became a grove, until it led them to an open field.

Amid the white, snow-covered field, Duncan was the first to notice it. Up ahead, far away, a dark shape on the slope was being swallowed by the blizzard.

A house. A small stone structure, crooked from the weight of many winters, but still standing. A promise of safety, a roof. Perhaps the gods were on their side after all.

“Shelter…” he said, narrowing his eyes. The prince, who had been complaining behind him ever since they had dismounted, lifted his head.

“Where?”

Duncan pointed, and just like him, the prince strained his eyes, trying to see the figure in the distance. His shoulders relaxed, a relieved sigh escaping before he turned to him with a forced scowl.

“Finally,” said the prince, immediately returning to his irritated tone. “It took long enough.”

The knight rolled his eyes and began heading toward the house. He kept his eyes on the path, attentive to any irregularity. The snow seemed to hide rocks, roots, patches of ice. Every step had to be tested before trusting it. However, the prince did not seem to care about any of that, passing him in long strides as if he were fleeing from some wild animal.

“My prince, be careful,” the tall man warned. “We do not know if this is a safe place to walk in this ki—”

The ground cracked loudly.

Duncan saw everything as if time had slowed down. The dry sound echoed at the same moment both men held their breath, and the knight’s stomach turned to ice as the omega disappeared.

The white surface split open, revealing the dark water of the river hidden beneath the thin layer of ice. Aerion emerged a second later, gasping, the shock stealing the air from him. He thrashed, letting out grunts and sharp cries, his face panicked as the current pulled at his body while he tried to cling to the brittle edge.

As if his body had moved on its own, the taller man dropped to his knees at the bank, ignoring the ice cracking beneath his weight, and stretched himself until he managed to grab the prince’s heavy collar.

“Hold on to me!” he shouted, his voice thick with concern. This time there was no arrogant reply; the prince’s eyes were wide with panic, his breathing far too short. He grabbed the knight’s arm with fingers already weakened by the cold.

With brutal effort, Duncan tried to pull him out. The ice broke a little more, the water splashing over him, but he did not let go. It was as if he were trying to win a tug-of-war against the water, the pale man being dragged and swallowed by the dark current.

When Duncan finally pulled Aerion from the water, he collapsed trembling and soaked on the ground. The knight immediately turned him onto his side, every nerve shaking in panic when he felt the smaller body rigid. He swore he had never seen lips lose their color so quickly and then turn into such a deep shade of purple.

“Aerion, are you alright?” Concern struck like a heavy hammer; the prince seemed to have no strength even to answer. His body curled against the ground.

Duncan lifted his head, looking toward the house. In the distance, almost hidden by the snow that was falling harder now, the house was still there — close enough for hope, far enough to be a race against time.

Without thinking twice, he tore off the soaked red cloak, removed his own cloak, and wrapped it around Aerion’s fragile body before lifting him into his arms.

“Duncan…” Aerion tried to speak, his voice coming out broken and low, the tremors worsening as they ran toward the house.

The house had seemed closer when seen from afar. Now, dragging the prince through the ever-deepening snow, the knight had the impression that it moved farther away with every step.

“Stay with me,” he said breathlessly with the effort. “We’re almost there.”

Aerion did not respond. His teeth were chattering so hard the sound was audible even through the wind. The knight’s heavy cloak wrapped around him was already beginning to grow damp as well. Duncan’s boots left uneven tracks in the snow, unstable — just like his thoughts.

The house finally seemed closer. Small, built of large dark stones, the roof slightly crooked to the left and covered with old layers of snow. An old chimney rose above the house like an exposed bone.

Duncan peeked through the windows, a thread of hope forming when he realized it seemed abandoned. He tried to open the door while still holding the man in his arms, but it would not move, the wood swollen from the ice.

“Wait here,” he whispered, setting the prince on his feet on the ground. The silver-haired omega leaned against the doorframe, trembling so violently he looked ready to collapse.

“Faster,” he said, his voice far too weak to match the man who had been shouting orders minutes before.

The knight stepped back twice and kicked the door. Once, the wood cracked. Twice, the upper hinge gave way. On the third strike the door burst open with a crash, scattering snow and frozen dust through the dark interior. The smell of old wood and trapped cold air escaped outside.

“Come…” He raised a hand to Aerion, who tried to walk but his knees failed.

Before he could fall to the ground, the taller man caught him by the shoulders and lifted him, carrying him inside. The interior was dark, silent, and freezing — but protected from the wind. He looked around: an old fragile table with four chairs gnawed by termites stood in the corner of the room, and beside it a stone fireplace with scraps of wood caught both their attention.

Carefully, Duncan placed Aerion on the floor beside the fireplace. He removed the wet cloak covering him and assessed the situation. The skin was far too pale. The lips bluish. The trembling was no longer just strong, it was violent. A sight to make even the calmest septon despair.

“Seven hells,” he muttered. He tore off his own gloves and Aerion’s as well with his teeth, quickly wrapping the pale hands with his own. “You’re soaked… You need to take this off, or you’ll end up freezing even more.”

Aerion blinked slowly, his eyes tired.

“What?”

He tried to lift his hands to push him away, a scowl attempting to form but turning into an expression almost pitiful. His fingers barely responded, his body far too rigid to shove the tall man away.

The knight did not waste time arguing. He removed the boots first, then undid the clasps of the elegant coat he was wearing.

“This is… extremely improper.” He breathed with difficulty.

“Freezing to death is too,” Duncan added, unfazed by the protests. “It’s necessary.”

The heavy coat fell onto the wooden floor with a wet sound. His trembling worsened immediately when the cold air struck the soaked shirt. He inhaled quickly, as if the air itself burned.

Duncan paused for a second. It was the first time he had seen Aerion like this. No sarcasm, no irritation, none of that carefully built wall of arrogance. Just a man freezing.

He pulled the soaked shirt over the trembling omega’s head before he could protest again, then untied the knots of his trousers and pulled them off. He left him only in the cloth that covered his modesty, his neck and scent glands, though the tissue too were soaked.

He removed the second cloak he wore and wrapped it around him again. The cold seeping through the cracks felt like nothing compared to the fear settling in his stomach. He turned and began lighting the fireplace with the wood that remained, his hands working quickly despite the cold.

The small flame in the hearth settled lazily, illuminating the cabin with a weak and unsteady light. Duncan fed the fire with pieces of old wood he found in the corner, breaking them with his hands when necessary. Even so, the cold seemed trapped within the walls.

He looked back, uneasy with the silence.

The prince was sitting on the floor, wrapped in the cloak, but the trembling had changed. It was no longer violent, it was irregular, as if his body were slowly losing the battle.

“Aerion?”

No answer. He hurried to him, large hands settling against the pale face. The omega’s eyes were half-open, lost somewhere on the wall. When they finally focused on the knight, they lingered on his face for a few seconds, giving him one of the most genuine looks Duncan had ever seen from him.

“You talk too much, you know?” he whispered, so softly Duncan almost did not hear it.

The knight looked at the fire, then at the trembling man before him, and made the decision he had been avoiding since they entered the house.

“This won’t be enough.” He began removing his own shirt, exposing his torso to the cold. Aerion frowned, confused, his eyes lazily wandering over the exposed skin.

“What are you doing?”

“The fire is too weak. You need warmth, now.”

“I… am close to the fire…”

“It’s not enough.”

Duncan sat down, opened the cloak wrapped around the prince, and pulled him closer. His body was rigid from the cold, muscles locked by the trembling; he collapsed against him without protest.

“This is temporary,” the knight said firmly. “Just until your temperature comes back.”

“Unbelievable…” Aerion complained, but he did not bother moving a muscle. His head grew heavy against the bare chest, breathing slowly.

The tall man tightened the embrace a little more, trying to transfer as much warmth as possible. For a few seconds, the prince remained still. Then, when a stronger involuntary shiver passed through him, his hands grabbed the knight’s arms, as if seeking comfort in him.

The trembling lessened, very slowly, but it lessened. The breathing that had seemed fragile as glass steadied, and the skin no longer felt quite so icy. Duncan thought he would pull away once he began to feel better, but he was proven wrong when Aerion merely nestled further into the warmth, his nose slowly sliding against the warm skin.

That was when Duncan heard it. At first he thought he was hallucinating. Perhaps too much wind in his ears had made him hear things. But then he heard it again, low and steady, like the purring of a cat. Aerion felt comfortable enough to purr against him.

Aerion’s eyes were closed, rubbing his face against him, and Duncan felt his heart skip beats and climb up his throat to his ears. Minutes ago this would have been unthinkable, and now he found himself in a situation that would not have happened even in his wildest dreams.

“My prince,” he whispered, his voice shy.

No answer. Aerion seemed lost in his own thoughts. Duncan tried again, clearing his throat loudly enough to pull him from the trance.

“You… are you feeling better?”

The eyes opened, the pupils enormous, almost swallowing the lilac color entirely. They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity, breaths mingling, faces far too close…

As if reality had returned all at once, Aerion looked away, his face burning a vivid red. He pulled back, taking the cloak that covered them both with him.

The silence that settled between them was unsettling, the tension so heavy the knight swore it could be held in one’s hands. He cleared his throat again, ignoring the urge to shrink with embarrassment.

“I’ll check on the horses…”

“Alright.”

Duncan rose quickly, pulling his shirt back on before marching outside with awkward steps. The snow was still falling now, but in slow flakes, almost silent, though the wind still struck hard.

He turned toward the horses he had left in the open, walked over to them, and led them to the back of the house where it would shield them from the cold. Duncan remained standing outside the cabin. The door was behind him, only a few steps away… All he had to do was push it open and go back inside. Even so, he did not move.

The cold air burned his lungs with every breath, but he almost welcomed it. It was easier to deal with the ice than with the warm feeling spreading through his chest. He ran a hand over his face, still feeling the phantom warmth of the prince’s skin against his.

That had been… necessary. The logic was simple: a body at risk of hypothermia needed warmth. Anyone with a good heart would have done the same.

“Aagh,” he grunted, slightly startling the horses.

A feeling he had not experienced in years stirred in his stomach. An instinct he had ignored for years scratched at the back of his neck, as if trying to tear an opening to break free. Go back in there now and take care of your omega, the urge shouted from the depths of his thoughts. It unsettled him.

Aerion is a noble omega. And not just any noble — a Targaryen. Trying anything with him would be unacceptable and would only cause more discord and confusion. But… the way Aerion had nestled against Duncan, trusting him in such a difficult moment…

Duncan raised his hand and slapped his own face hard. He shook his head, trying to drive away the incoherent thoughts, burying those unnecessary instincts once again.

“What the hell are you thinking, you idiot?” He let out a long sigh, the vapor of his breath vanishing into the frozen air.

The tall man rubbed his hands together to warm them, buying himself a few more seconds of courage before going back inside the house. He closed his eyes for a moment, then straightened his shoulders. He had faced bloody battles before — he could survive an awkward and improper moment.

He walked toward the house with determined steps, opened the door, and went inside.

— … —

The fire was steadier now. It was not large, but the flame burned steadily in the hearth, illuminating the small cabin with a warm and uneven light. The wood cracked now and then, breaking the silence that had settled between them.

Duncan sat on the crooked bench near the door, absentmindedly sharpening the short blade he carried on his belt. It did not need to be that sharp, but it gave his hands something to do.

Aerion was on the other side of the room, wrapped in two cloaks and sitting on the floor near the fireplace, on a makeshift bedding the tall man had arranged to keep him close to the heat. The wet clothes were hanging near the fire, still dripping.

The prince stared at the way the fire danced, one hand stirring the logs with a piece of iron, the other stretched toward the warmth, his fingers moving almost adorably as if trying to mimic the unpredictable motion.

Unpredictable… that suited him, Duncan thought, dragging the whetstone along the sharpened edge of the blade.

From time to time he lifted his eyes toward the omega, watching him like a hawk. Any tremor that passed through the smaller body put him on alert, his heart still uneasy with how close he had come to losing the prince to winter.

Aerion sighed softly, the cloak slipping for a moment over his bare shoulders and exposing them before he pulled it back up again to hide from the cold.

“Duncan…” Aerion’s voice broke the silence, a calm tone that had never been heard before. “I want to take it off.”

Duncan raised his brows in confusion, but quickly understood when the omega pointed to the cloth still wrapped around his neck, covering the scent glands. Unease filled him, but he nodded, not wanting to refuse when the prince had asked so carefully.

Aerion raised his hands, pale fingers tangling into the damp cloth before pulling it away, exposing the long line of his neck. Silence settled over the room once more, Duncan lowering his gaze to focus on his dagger again.

Suddenly, the dark cabin felt more familiar, more comfortable. The cold air that still lingered seemed distant now, Duncan’s muscles — once numb — beginning to relax. The smell of burning firewood and heated metal filled the space.

Duncan hummed softly, pleased, the unusual scent dancing across his tongue and clinging to the roof of his mouth. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply, letting his thoughts fade away, his body relaxing almost automatically.

“So…”

He was pulled back to reality by Aerion’s voice.

"What do we do now?” the silver-haired man asked, looking over his shoulder.

Duncan blinked a few times, the lilac eyes forcing him fully back to awareness. He glanced toward the small cabin window. Outside, the snow was still falling, though less violently than before.

“We wait…” he replied, his voice slow, as if he were drunk.

“We wait? Seriously?”

“We wait for the storm to pass,” he added. “They have probably already noticed that we are missing. They will search, you are the prince, after all.”

Aerion made a face, the habitual pout forming on lips abused by the cold. He held his hands toward the fire for a few more seconds, absorbing the warmth, before speaking again.

“What if they do not come looking for us?”

“Then we follow the trail back once the weather clears.”

“And if we are completely lost?”

Duncan shrugged, receiving in return a stare that seemed eager to burn holes into his skull. The prince huffed and curled further into the cloak.

“Do not worry, my prince.” He set the dagger down on the table, stretched his arms, and rested them behind his neck. “If we are completely lost, I am sure we will find a way.”

“You say that as if it were simple!” Aerion grunted irritably, shaking his head in disapproval as he jabbed the fire with unnecessary force.

“But it is not as complicated as you thi-.”

“Oh, seven hells, Duncan.” Aerion groaned loudly, interrupting him. “I hate this, stop it immediately.”

“Stop what?” Duncan let out an involuntary laugh, the situation more amusing than uncomfortable.

“Stop acting as if all of this is just… a practical problem, something simple to solve. We are in the middle of nowhere, we do not have food for more than two days, my clothes are soaked, and I almost died drowning and freezing. There is nothing simple here.”

Duncan laughed out loud, causing genuine confusion in the prince, who looked at him as if he had two heads. When he stopped, a hand on his stomach, he smiled at the smaller man in an attempt to calm the situation.

“I assure you, Aerion,” he said, a genuine smile forming on his lips. “We will leave as soon as possible. I will not let you go through any hardship. After all, I swore to protect you and give my life for you.”

Duncan’s voice came out gentle, echoing softly through the abandoned cabin. Aerion opened his mouth to respond, but gave up, something unfamiliar glimmering in his eyes. He murmured something and, with his face red, turned back to watch the fire.

The snow struck the stone walls outside, the wind humming through the cracks in the windows, but none of it seemed to bother them anymore. The atmosphere, which had been tense before, turned into something comfortable and light, warm like the feeling that remained in the knight’s chest.

“We should sleep…” the omega murmured, his face still turned toward the warmth. Duncan tilted his head to the side, leaning on his elbows.

“I am fine.”

“That was not a question.”

Duncan smiled, and Aerion shifted awkwardly within the cloak.

“You can sleep. I will keep watch in case something happens.” He stood, stretching his numb muscles.

“There is nothing to watch here,” Aerion rolled his eyes. “We are in the middle of nowhere.”

“Still-”

“Duncan.” Aerion said firmly. His face tightened for a moment before relaxing completely, large lilac eyes looking at him pleadingly. “I am still cold. Stay with me.”

Duncan froze, his feet seeming to have been nailed to the wooden floor. His breath faltered, his heart pounding hard. Blue eyes fixed on the pale violet ones, a silent argument passing between them, a tug-of-war to see who would give in first.

A few more seconds passed, then the prince finally turned his face slightly, clearly trying to appear unconcerned about the situation.

“Come sleep.”

Aerion said it, the invitation sounding far too dangerous, yet Duncan found himself moving toward the man. His feet moved on their own.

“Is that an order?”

“No…” Aerion whispered, his voice low and seductive like the song of a siren. “Just a request.”

Duncan swallowed hard, his thoughts tangling and melting into a puddle of senseless things. He knelt down, his breath catching in his throat when the prince ran his hands over the fabric on his forearm, pulling him closer.

“Where…” Duncan’s voice came out uneven. “Where do you want me to stay?”

Aerion placed a hand on the floor beside him, tapped the spot, and smiled slyly. The knight nodded, sitting down awkwardly next to the prince, who opened the cloak, exposing himself. The orange light from the flames burning in the hearth reflected against the bare skin, accentuating the curves and scars that kissed his skin.

The tall man forced his lips into a straight line and looked away. Perhaps he was hallucinating again, but he heard the prince exhale through his nose as if he were holding back a laugh. The silver-haired omega rested a hand on his chest and gently pushed him to lie down, and he did so without hesitation, his tall body moving as if it had no will of its own.

“Aeri—”

“Shh,” he hissed, shaking his head in disapproval. “Do not say anything. I do not need your objections.”

Duncan nodded, heat spreading from his face down to his shoulders. Aerion leaned closer, but stopped halfway, then shifted so that his face was turned toward the fireplace, his back to the knight. He threw the cloak over both of them and rested his head on his arm.

The knight felt as if he might burn from the inside out, his eyes trailing down the pale back before quickly lifting again before they wandered too far. He cleared his throat again — realizing he had been doing that far too often — and squeezed his eyes shut, thinking of any brutality he had witnessed just to ignore the distant warmth emanating from Aerion.

“I’m cold…” Aerion murmured, squeezing his own arm. His voice echoed in Duncan’s empty head.

“I could try to make the fire in the hearth bigger, if that pleases you.”

“No.” He turned slightly, the lilac eyes that seemed darker in the low light looking at him over his shoulder. “You said earlier it wasn’t enough.”

He paused for a moment, then guided one hand back and grabbed Duncan by the forearm, pulling it over him until it forced an embrace. Duncan choked on his own saliva and tried to pull his arm back, his whole body shrinking away, but Aerion hissed and pulled harder, making their bodies collide with force.

“My prince, this is not right,” Duncan said, his voice trembling. “We should not—”

“There is nothing wrong with this,” Aerion murmured, his voice soft as silk. “We are not doing anything improper, it’s just… I’m still cold, so lend me your warmth. Give it to me.”

Duncan had no answer, his brain choosing not to function at such a crucial moment. Aerion took the silence as an answer, the smaller body slowly shifting until it leaned fully against the larger one. Pale hands still held the knight’s forearm in place, and then he hummed softly, moving his fingers over the scarred skin.

Silence settled again, heavier than before. The tall man, completely stunned, reconsidered his entire life; it was as if images were flashing before his eyes before death. Never, in a million years, had he imagined himself in such an intimate embrace with a prince — a Targaryen prince, no less — in a cabin in the middle of nowhere, thinking such profane things. Seven hells, if anyone discovered the thoughts trampling through his melted brain right now, his head would be torn from his shoulders.

He took a deep breath, trying to keep his thoughts under control, but it backfired completely.

Suddenly, that unusual scent that filled every corner of the small house became as intense as the storm raging outside. Burning wood, smoke, and heated metal, with a faint undertone of amber, flooded his senses. His eyes shut with the intensity, as if he had been struck squarely in the forehead with a hammer.

The truth was that the “unusual scent” was nothing less than the pheromones Aerion was releasing, and Duncan cursed himself. He cursed himself for not realizing it earlier, and cursed himself even more for wanting to bury his nose in the back of Aerion’s neck and breathe in as deeply as he could. It would be simple — just lean forward a little and his nose would brush that sinful spot, and the restless knot in his stomach would disappear.

However, he resisted, clinging to his self-control as if it were a lifeline. He had not completely lost his sense of danger yet. What would Aerion do if he leaned closer to such a private place? He would probably stab him right there, that much was certain. Duncan turned his face away, trying to hide his nose between his arms, avoiding any scent that was not his own.

Perhaps the gods had been at his side when they found shelter in the middle of nowhere, but apparently they had let go of Duncan’s hand right there. Aerion murmured something too quiet for him to hear, his fingers still tracing circles against the knight’s skin, until he shifted backward. He pressed himself firmly against the broad chest and moved his hips slightly, as if trying to become one with the taller man.

Duncan held his breath. Every place where his own body met the smaller man’s bare skin burned with an uncomfortable heat. Quick, think of something terrible, you fool, he repeated to himself, but it was useless. All his senses were fixed on the prince.

The last thread of resistance snapped when he heard, for the second time that day, that angelic sound only a comfortable omega could make. Aerion was purring, softly, but still easy to hear. The knight melted completely, leaning toward the sound.

Aerion went from rubbing his fingers against the forearm to openly brushing his wrists against him, the pheromones clinging like paint. The sensation that came with it turned the muscles of Duncan’s arm into jelly. He felt drunk, his mind clouded for a long stretch of time, his breathing failing in uneven intervals.

Until he was abruptly forced back to reality.

Before Duncan realized it, the omega shifted his hips sharply, pressing himself against the bulge forming in the knight’s trousers without Duncan even noticing it before. Duncan moved his hands quickly, gripping the hips firmly to make him stop. Blood rushed south when he received a low moan in return.

“My prince, th–this is— we cannot—” the knight murmured quickly, the words stumbling over one another. Yet he did not move, much less pull away, his body refusing to distance itself from the other man’s warmth.

“Duncan…” the omega whimpered, forcing his hips forward in an attempt to free himself. “Come on… I need it, I need this. After everything we went through today, don’t you think it’s necessary?”

He slid his hands over Duncan, fingers intertwining with the hands that held him before pulling them along. The omega sighed as he guided the alpha’s large hands against his bare torso, his back arching under the touch, his hips pressing against the bulge once again.

Duncan swallowed hard and let himself be guided, thick fingers moving over the soft skin of the stomach, up to the chest, until they found a hardened nipple.

“Are you sure?” he said, his voice weak.

“Mhm…” Aerion pressed his head against the knight’s neck, a small whimper escaping before he continued. “It’s only because of the cold, you know that.”

It was a terrible excuse, but Duncan swallowed it like a man dying of thirst. His own hips moved against the warmth, a broken sigh slipping from his lips when he felt the swelling in his trousers slide against the soft muscle of Aerion’s backside.

The heat between them burned hotter than the fire, heavy breaths and skin brushing lazily together. Duncan took advantage of what had been given to him, gripping everything he could — thighs, arms, the narrow waist — mapping every curve into his memory with his hands. Soft and small beneath his touch, the prince was perfect to hold like a rag doll and move from side to side, just as he did in dreams he refused to admit he had.

Aerion reached one arm back and squeezed Duncan’s thick thigh, rubbing and rolling his hips shamelessly as he let out a long, lewd moan. His pheromones came in heavy waves against the knight’s face, delight, lust, and need filling the cabin and soaking into the air.

“So good…” the prince moaned without shame, grinding slowly, without hurry.

Duncan realized too late that he had fallen into a trap. He felt like a man bleeding in a forest full of hungry, wild animals. In this case, the wild animal was a prince — a prince who at that very moment was humping him as if there were no tomorrow.

But he would not pretend to be foolish either. The moment he agreed to lie down with him, he knew what he was getting into. And honestly, he had sworn to the prince that he would protect him and do what he asked, so what exactly was the problem?

Duncan groaned softly, pushing his hips in circles, finding the rhythm Aerion had set. The thick fabric of the knight’s trousers and the cloth still covering the prince’s modesty frustrated him. It was good, very good, in fact, but not enough. The heat Aerion gave off where they met made him throb, pre-cum leaking against the fabric.

The heat emanating between Aerion’s legs sent shivers down Duncan’s spine. His hands moved, fingers digging into flesh until they found the omega’s chest. He squeezed and kneaded before dragging his fingertips to the nipples exposed to the cold.

The prince curled slightly, his breath faltering, hands covering Duncan’s. He grew warmer below, his hips faltering each time the knight pinched the sensitive spot between his fingers.

The omega trembled faintly and turned his face toward him. With his mouth slightly open, he said:

“Take off your trousers.”

Duncan grunted, his throat dry.

“I’m not wearing anything underneath…” the alpha said with difficulty, his ears ringing when Aerion shuddered and whimpered at the answer.

“Take them off. Now.”

The tall man nodded, bringing his clumsy fingers to the cords holding his trousers in place. He chuckled softly when the omega complained at not having the large, calloused hands holding him anymore.

He lowered the trousers, and the cold kissed the newly exposed skin, his dick hanging heavy and slapping wetly against his stomach. When he lifted his eyes, he almost groaned aloud. Aerion was staring with his lips caught between his teeth, eyes heavy with desire, his breathing uneven.

“Fuck, it’s fucking huge…” Aerion whispered to himself, his body trembling with anticipation.

The omega stretched an arm back, his body twisted into an uncomfortable position, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand traveled along the length with curiosity, a moan forming in his chest when he closed his fingers around it and saw they barely met around the thickness. He turned quickly, guiding the heavy length between his thighs, and when Duncan understood the message, he grabbed the slender waist and nestled against the smaller body once more.

His cock slid between the prince’s thighs and the fabric that still separated it from the omega’s entrance. The knight’s jaw fell open, and he rested his forehead against Aerion’s head. The sensation of the soft thighs surrounding him sent shocks of pleasure from the tips of his toes to the ends of his hair.

Aerion was leaking slick in abundance, soaking his thighs and drenching the fabric until it became nearly transparent. He moaned, his thighs tightening around the member moving between them, trembling each time it dragged against that sensitive place.

The knight leaned down, drunk on sensation, his brain completely incapable of forming thoughts that weren’t about the omega. When Aerion threw his hands back and his fingers tangled in the dark strands of Duncan’s hair, pulling his face beyond the last limit, that was his undoing — the final thread of consciousness snapping.

He buried his nose in the nape of the smaller man’s neck, breathing deeply as if afraid the scent might disappear. He felt dizzy, languid; all his senses had narrowed to him. Only him, only Aerion. That was what he wanted, what he needed, nothing else. The constant motion of his cock sliding and being squeezed by those thighs, and now the pheromones surrounding him, left him intoxicated. He felt like he was in heaven.

Duncan pressed Aerion’s legs closer together, making the slick skin tighter around him. Somewhere deep, very deep, his awareness warned firmly that this was a terrible idea. Grinding against the prince? What did he think he was doing? But he pushed common sense away. The sensation of his cock sliding against muscle and the covered intimacy was the only thing he allowed himself to think about.

The alpha let one hand roam over the omega’s body, hungry, blinded by desire. Then he dragged his fingers from the navel down to the groin, slipping his hand beneath the thin cloth. Aerion threw his head back, his thighs parting slightly to grant access. Wet, that was what the knight felt, his fingers sliding easily there until he found, among the flesh, the spot that made him tremble violently.

He stopped moving his hips, focusing completely on the way the man pulsed against his fingers each time they moved. His voice came out broken and constant in moans and whimpers, his thighs vibrating.

“Dun—fuck, I’m coming…” the prince whispered, trembling. Then he came hard against Duncan’s fingers, curling in on himself as pleasure rushed through his body in waves. He trembled and trembled, calling the knight’s name as if it were a prayer.

Duncan groaned against the back of his neck, his own cock pulsing and ignored, but the alpha clawing through his thoughts was satisfied with the boneless way he had left Aerion. Good alpha, he thought while humming softly, his fingers still against the pulsing, wet flesh.

He threatened to pull his hand away, but the prince held him there, leaving him confused.

“My prince?” he said. That was when he realized how breathless he was, his chest rising and falling with difficulty.

“Don’t stop… don’t stop.” Aerion spread his legs, bracing one foot against Duncan.

“But—”

“I want more.”

The alpha grunted, and with heavy-lidded eyes slid his cock into the soaked fabric, still not entering the pulsing entrance. He dragged it firmly between the wet flesh, earning a sharp, overstimulated moan. He lost his head. The smell of slick made him dizzy — the hot pussy on one side, the soaked cloth on the other.

The head pressed lightly against the slit, slipping inside for only an instant before popping back out with a wet pop. The prince, already reduced into a sobbing, whining, begging mess, trembled at the brief intrusion and pulled Duncan even closer by the hair. With his nose back at the nape of Aerion’s neck, Duncan groaned.

Without thinking — without even hesitating — he leaned down, his tongue slipping out before dragging across the exposed skin of the prince’s neck. It felt as if adrenaline had been injected straight into his veins. His mouth filled with saliva, his eyes rolling back as the overwhelming sensation took hold of him completely. He felt it everywhere, in his veins, his nerves, his muscles, every part of him, the taste of pheromones feeding him like nothing ever had before. He swallowed them like a starving man, the sensation maddening, dizzying, intoxicating — beyond any feeling someone might get from taking a hallucinogenic mushroom.

The omega was no different. Slick spilled in abundance, sharp nails digging into the alpha’s skin and drawing thin lines of blood.

Duncan groaned hoarsely, giving one, two, three slaps with his cock against the omega’s intimacy, biting his lip as the wet sound echoed through the room. He dragged his hands down to the back of the smaller man’s knees, spreading him wider. The indecent, almost profane sound his cock made as it rubbed against the soaked pussy filled his empty mind — and if it were possible, he would have grown even harder.

The knight pulled the cloth aside and watched with focused eyes as the thick length, now shining with slick, slid between the flesh. He could do this for hours, he thought, closing his eyes and savoring the feeling. Duncan moved slowly, patiently chasing pleasure, trembling against the pulsing heat. He rubbed his nose against the other man’s neck again, unable to stay away.

Maybe he would have stayed like that forever, slowly grinding, but Aerion seemed to have other plans. In one impatient, unpredictable movement, he pushed his hips back at the exact moment the head of Duncan’s cock passed the entrance. The tip slid, caught, and slipped inside once more with ease, but this time it stayed.

Both of them moaned, the air catching in their throats. Duncan squeezed his eyes shut when the overwhelming heat wrapped around the tip, the walls sucking as if they wanted to pull him in completely. He tried to pull out — even though every muscle screamed for him to go deeper, he tried.

“Duncan, come on…” Aerion whimpered before he could do it. “Don’t you want me?”

“I do. Oh gods, how I do,” Duncan replied, his hands still holding the prince’s thighs apart.

“Then why are you resisting?” Aerion turned, looking over his shoulder. “Just do it. I’m yours today, completely. Take me, Alpha. Make me yours.”

Duncan’s mind went blank; no coherent thought passed behind his blue eyes. And so he did — without hesitation, like a good alpha — the thing the omega asked for.

He gripped the back of Aerion’s knee and pulled him open, then moved his hips and pushed in all at once. Duncan whimpered when he felt himself sink deep, swallowed by tight, trembling walls. Every time he pulled out, Aerion sucked him in with force, and every time he thrust back in the inner walls shuddered. He moved slowly, trying to carve into memory the way the prince’s back shifted, the gentle sway of his hips each time they met. The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed, sweat and slick mixing and making the sound louder, more obscene. Aerion moaned without shame, his spread thighs trembling violently with every thrust, while he clung to the cloak that had long since been forgotten.

“Too big—hmph—fuck… I’m losing it…” Aerion choked out between whimpers. His body went slack, overwhelmed by the oppressive pleasure.

He tried to close his legs, arching his back as if trying to run away from it, pressing against Duncan’s chest — but that only drove him deeper. Duncan’s name slipped from his reddened lips as if it were the only thing keeping him conscious.

The knight let out a rough grunt. His heavy body moved on its own, already annoyed by how much the position hindered rather than helped, so he changed it. Still inside the omega, he forced him down onto his stomach, legs spread and spine arched. It was a beautiful sight, and Duncan swore silently he would never forget it. The prince was a delicious mess: lilac eyes heavy and swallowed by black, silver hair tangled and stuck to his forehead, trembling thighs shining with slick. The voice that only hours earlier had been shouting insults now trembled helplessly between soft sobs.

Such a beautiful, gracious, perfect omega, Duncan thought before using both hands to force the omega’s chest down against the improvised bed. He moved mercilessly, an involuntary smile appearing when the flesh of the prince’s ass shifted with the motion. The knight watched his cock disappear into the heat and reappear soaked.

Healthy. Reproductive. Fertile. Perfect.

Duncan groaned loudly and squeezed his eyes shut. His instincts were screaming violently, the urge to bite and claim pounding in his ears.

Maybe the omega noticed, or maybe he didn’t. It was hard to tell when he seemed so lost, murmuring and whining nonsense, his eyes wandering and rolling toward the back of his skull. He was dripping, knuckles white from the way he clung to the cloth like a lifeline, chanting profane little sounds.

Breed him, make him full of your pups. He would look so good, round with your pups.

Duncan bit his lip hard as he threw his weight forward against the omega, the pleasure building into something heavy, powerful, overwhelming. At some point Aerion began moving too, pushing back to meet the alpha’s hips, their bones rocking with the force of each collision.

The cabin felt like it was on fire.

Knot him.

“Duncan, oh g—” the prince tried to say, but his own pleasure cut him off. His eyes squeezed shut, his mouth hanging open as he trembled, clamping around the knight’s cock with alarming strength.

Knot him.

Duncan loomed over Aerion, chasing the rising pleasure. His thick legs trembled, his broad fingers digging into soft, pale skin — but it still wasn’t enough.

Knot him.

He felt the knot beginning to swell. A deep, animalistic growl rumbled from his chest. Burying his nose in the source of an omega’s pheromones, it seemed, had not been a good idea after all — and he was discovering that in the worst possible way.

Knot him. Now.

Getting drunk on such sweet pheromones had scrambled the poor Alpha’s mind. He felt his instincts cannibalizing each other, unable to think of anything except Aerion — and how he should be his, only his.

Mine, mine, mine.

Come on, just do it. Knot him.

Aerion drooled as he whimpered from overstimulation, his legs trembling violently while the thick cock kept striking against him. He reached one arm back, nails dragging across Duncan’s abdomen as he tried weakly to push him away.

The omega looked back without strength, eyes full of tears and pleading, lips red from how much he had bitten them. Then he said:

“Knot me.”

Duncan groaned loudly, his eyes rolling back when the knot finally swelled all at once, locking him inside the pulsing heat. He came, and came, and kept coming, filling the omega until a small bulge formed low on his stomach. When it was over, he collapsed bonelessly, his breathing heavy and uneven.

He wrapped his arms around the prince and pulled him back into their previous position, holding him close in front of the fireplace. Once again, a comfortable silence settled between them. Aerion hummed softly, his fingers moving lazily over Duncan in gentle strokes. And Duncan, eyes closed, placed soft kisses along the skin of the prince’s reddened shoulders, soothing the places where his fingers had left marks.

They stayed like that for minutes — perhaps hours — simply enjoying each other in the warmth of the fire.

The knight rested a hand against the slight swell of Aerion’s belly and smiled faintly, still dizzy with instinct. Somewhere deep down he knew this would have ugly consequences, but he chose to let tomorrow’s Duncan deal with that.

He buried his face in the curve of Aerion’s neck and fell asleep right there.

— … —

Morning arrived pale and silent.

The snow had stopped sometime during the night, leaving the world outside covered in a smooth, shining layer. The gray winter light slipped through the cabin’s small window, reflecting softly off the stone walls. The fire in the hearth had burned down to little more than a pile of embers and charcoal.

Duncan woke first.

At first he only felt the heaviness in his head, like he had passed out drunk. The light from the window made his eyes shift uncomfortably beneath still-closed lids. For a few seconds he remained still, trying to remember where he was.

Then he felt the weight against his chest, and everything came back at once.

His eyes opened quickly, finding the prince still asleep, sprawled entirely on top of him, using him like a mattress. The cloak was wrapped around both of them, and Aerion had one hand gripping the knight’s arm as if he had forgotten to let go during the night. His face was relaxed in a rare way, without that carefully practiced expression of superiority.

He looked… angelic. Well, he is, in fact, beautiful.

Duncan immediately looked away. That was dangerous. What he had done the night before was dangerous enough already; there was no need to make things worse with foolish feelings that would never be returned —  even if he were reborn a noble. He moved slowly, trying to set Aerion down on the floor, but was met with an irritated grunt and a tighter grip.

He tried to hide the smile that threatened to appear on his lips.

Cute.

He was carefully considering how to get away without waking him when he heard a distant sound.

The ground trembled faintly, almost imperceptibly. He lifted his head, alert to every sound echoing from outside. When he heard nothing else, he thought he might have imagined it.

Then he heard it again.

Horses. And many of them.

The sound, which had been low and indistinct before, grew louder with every passing second. Duncan rose immediately, leaving the prince there despite the unhappy grunt he let out. He walked to the window and wiped the frost from the glass with his fist.

Outside, among the trees, shadows moved. Men on well-equipped horses carried large banners bearing a familiar coat of arms — a red dragon.

Relief washed over him completely.

“Aerion!” he called, still watching the figures moving outside.

The prince mumbled something incomprehensible but didn’t move.

“Aerion, wake up.”

This time the omega opened his eyes slowly, clearly disoriented. He looked up, forming a slightly irritated expression and an unpleasant pout.

“Can’t you see I’m trying to sleep?” he cursed, trying to pull the long cloak over his head. Duncan felt an overwhelming urge to laugh when he realized Aerion had no voice left.

I wonder when he lost it. Weird… he thought, discreetly bringing a hand to his mouth to hold back the laugh.

“Sorry to disturb your sleep, my prince,” he said, amused. “But they found us.”

“What?” Aerion peeked out from beneath the cloth, blinking as he tried to adjust to the light. He grunted, blinking a few more times before understanding.

The knight pointed toward the window.

The prince got up too quickly and almost tripped over the cloaks before reaching it. Wrapped up and disheveled, he peered outside, forcing his lilac eyes to focus on something in the distance.

“Ah. It’s them,” he said, his hoarse voice coming out far too quietly.

By now, at least a dozen riders were crossing the clearing, heading straight toward the cabin.

“Well…” the prince murmured, running a hand through his still-messy hair. “This is… convenient.”

The knight watched him in silence, blue eyes tracing the pale skin peeking out from the cloak, the silver hair scattered in a strangely endearing mess.

Aerion looked at him, his face calm for a moment, before glancing away and clicking his tongue. Then he said, his face flushing red:

“Don’t say anything.”

“I didn’t say anything.” Duncan raised his hands. His heart was beating far too fast.

The prince sighed, but suddenly seemed unsettled, as if he had only now fully returned to reality. He looked outside with wide eyes, gripping the cloak tightly. The riders were closer now, the sound of hooves striking the ground echoing loudly.

Duncan watched as Aerion slipped a hand beneath the cloth between his legs. When he pulled it back out, it was covered in fluids. Something wild scratched at the back of the knight’s neck, the blood rushing through him until his face turned completely red.

“Duncan!” Aerion snapped loudly, startling the knight so badly he nearly jumped out of place. “I’m a fucking mess, they can’t see me like this!... And put some pants on, for the gods’ sake…”

Cold sweat broke over the knight, his stomach dropping. Now it was his turn to be struck by reality. He was naked from the waist down, covered in the scent of Aerion’s pheromones, while the prince stood there barefoot, wrapped in cloaks that clearly were not all his, their clothes hanging nearby to dry beside the fireplace.

Panic seized both of them.

They began rushing back and forth around the cabin. Aerion scattered the things they had used during the night — like the improvised bedding and the stained cloths — while Duncan tried to pull his trousers up his legs without tangling himself and falling flat on his face.

Which almost happened.

The situation, which should have been tense, turned oddly comical when the prince watched him fumbling awkwardly to get dressed and burst out laughing, easing the tight knot of nerves in Duncan’s chest.

“Hey, Ser…” the omega said between laughs. “Go buy me some time, will you? I need to clean up the mess you made of me.” He smiled, tilting his head to the side, clearly amused by the shy way the other man reacted.

“O-Okay, of course.”

Duncan nodded and shifted his feet awkwardly, embarrassment burning in his stomach. He started walking toward the door to do as he’d been asked when he felt the fabric of his shirt being tugged.

The tall man turned, his heart skipping a beat when cold, sweet lips met his in a brief, innocent kiss. He was pushed away lightly, and the prince gave him a sharp smile before placing another kiss — this time on his cheek.

“Don’t pretend this never happened,” he whispered against the alpha’s ear, his hoarse voice somehow sounding softer than ever.

“I won’t. You can be sure of that…”