you should see me in a crown.

So. The Targaryen/Valyrian dragons are dead, that much is true, but I like to imagine there being a different kind of dragons too.

Born of old and ancient magic of the land and breath, rather than fire and blood. Something to guard, rather than conquer.

These dragons are a whispered tale amongst the westerosi. They are viewed as protectors and guiding spirits, rather than actual beings who breathe fire and take up riders. In the northern folklore, its is even said that those dragons, are known to shed their scales and wings, in exchange for skin and a pair of hands. That they would visit leaders in a time of need to offer guidance and wisdom.

Dunk is such a dragon.

His mother was one as well, she fell in love with Dunk’s father and shed her scales to live as a human with him amongst others. But one day something happened and she either died or disappeared, leaving little Dunk with his human father and before long, he too left the boy to fend for himself.

Dunk doesn’t know much about what it means to be what he is. A dragon. He only knows that there’s a fire burning deep within his chest, he has thick bones that do not bend nor break, he heals faster than he should and from wounds that should end him, has a heart that feels far too big for his chest and a deep need to protect people.

And he is as thick as a castle wall, but that’s beside the point.

He simply knows more about being human, so with no one left to teach him about scales and flame, he keeps to that side. Not to mention he never really shifted, like he remembers his mother doing.

Her dragon wasn’t too large, but it was long and sleek like a true lizard with two pairs of wings. She was as green and brown as the forest surrounding them. Her eyes burned like molten amber… that’s most of what he remembers of her. Dunk has his father’s clear blue eyes instead, so he is left forever seeking the colour in the world, hoping to catch a glimpse of his mother.

He sometimes wonders what his other form would look like. He never turned, well… maybe as a babe, there’s a faint memory of soaring above some field as his parents shout from behind.

One evening he tells Ser Arlan about his mother, his heritage. But only gets a clout in the ear for speaking nonsense. So he keeps it to himself, deciding to just, abandon it and focus on becoming a true knight rather than a dragon.

Dragons are all gone after all, why bring them back? Even in such a form.

Then Arlan dies, Dunk is left without a purpose and heads to Ashford. Hoping to make a name for himself, to become a knight.

But at the inn, something shifts deep in his chest, the moment the bald boy steps into his path.

It’s a need. A need to guard and protect. His blood feels like it’s boiling, his hands twitch and there’s a burn in the back of his throat.

He leaves his horses with the boy and steps away, before he could cough up smoke, like he sometimes does.

Inside the inn, the feeling only grows stronger as the drunken Lord threatens him. He stumbles as he leaves, and Dunk has to resist the urge to steady him on his feet.

It’s all too strange for him. There’s a pull towards the two, that he cannot explain. It makes him want to grip his sword tight and stand guard until his feet become one with the earth beneath him.

And that is when he first sees it.

A single scale appearing on his hand, settled between his thumb and index finger. It’s white with a golden edge.

His heart drops at the sight and he instantly rips a part of his ratty cloak to cover it up.

The boy wishes to go with him. Dunk denies him instantly, hoping to rid himself of the feeling. And the scale. Should he turn, he could hurt the boy, and he does not want that in the slightest.

Then at Ashford, the boy stubbornly follows after him. And Dunk’s heart drops at the mere thought of a young boy travelling on his own just to find him again.

It’s not safe, his mind whispers and the smoke fills his throat.

And so he allows it, he keeps the boy close and safe, like Arlan did for him. He’s a good lad, does honest work and Dunk would be lying if he said that he was not glad for his presence.

In the morning, two new scales join the first one. Dunk just tightens the cloth around his hand and thinks nothing of it.

“Are you hurt, Ser?” the boy, Egg asks.

“No,” he responds, with a tone that makes the boy frown but not ask again.

Luck would have it. The Targaryens arrive and when Dunk’s eyes lay on the silver haired Prince, his hand itches and something in his chest expands. It’s suffocating.

He has to turn his head away and cough out smoke and soot into his hand as the Prince addresses him and jumps off his horse.

“Are you deaf or simply not cleaver enough to follow a simple command?”

Dunk clenches his hand into a fist and looks back at the Prince. But his eyes land on nothing at first, which confuses him for a second, before he looks down and the short Prince in front of him. His purple eyes burn into him with frustration and Dunk feels like coughing again.

“Answer me, boy.”

The need is back. But if it was bothersome with Egg and that drunken Lord, then with the Prince it is overwhelming. His thoughts go flying, the world barely seems to exist around him and Dunk feels like he should just grab the Prince, hoist him over his broad shoulder and steal him away.

Where? He doesn’t know. But somewhere safe and warm would do. Where no one else would be near him, where Dunk would shield him until the end of time—

He needs to stop this. Such thoughts would only lead to one thing. And it’s hanging.

“I- I’m not a stable boy, m’Lord.” he finally stutters out, his mind trying to find purpose outside of the need and greed that grip at him.

The Prince frowns at him, “Too high of a station even for you to reach?”

Dunk blinks, frowning back at the Prince, the urges briefly forgotten as he shakes his head, “No, m’Lord. I have the honour of being a knight, I am Ser Duncan the Tall.”

“Ser Duncan the Tall.” the Prince repeats, in a mocking tone. “Well, knighthood has fallen on sad days it would seem—“

The Prince is cut off, as his own horse seems to startle and jump, kicking one of the men with his front hooves and then preparing to do the same with his back ones.

Dunk doesn’t hesitate as he grips the Prince firmly and pushes him behind him. Before reaching the horse and calming it down gently. But soon enough his hand is ripped away from the horse and brought down, the scarp of fabric being tossed into the mud bellow.

His heart drops, as he sees his hand in the Prince’s tight grip. Where scales of white and gold shimmer, rising above the human flesh, almost completely covering his hand and forearm.

“What… What is the meaning of this?!” the Prince demands, his thin fingers dancing across the hard scales, checking if they’re real.

They are.

Dunk tries tugging his hand back, and the Prince’s eyes jump up to meet his. He seems both angry and shocked, as his eyes flicker between Dunk’s.

“You’re a Scale Shedder.” the Prince announces and sinks his nails into Dunk’s forearm, just where the skin is tender between scales and flesh, “You’re a dragon.”

Dunk opens his mouth, but nothing comes out. Aside from a little puff of smoke, that the Prince’s eyes greedily follow.

With panic and smoke, he rips his arm away from the Prince and runs off, clutching the arm to his chest.

His instincts scream at him to go back, to grab the Prince and take him with him. To protect and guard, to keep him close.

I have no idea what to add for like warnings so, I guess discussions of heats and illness and maybe pregnancy (mpreg) later?

likes, reblogs, and comments welcomed, yes yes

so aerion is a mess already, only when he has his heats, he's absolutely miserable. some might say insufferable, but really it's because his heats just make him sick, and he doesn't want to come off as weak, so he pushes through and trains and stays being obsessed with dragons even when he should be resting. his heat scent is just. gross. like an orchard of overripe, slightly rotting fruit that's also rotting the grass under it, stagnant pools of water choked with pond scum, old oil and decaying leather.

he probably wields it as a weapon, his scent in heat, and as much as he's not more violent during his heats, he's just turns that energy into being mean.

cutting down every unfortunate soul who's unlucky enough to be anywhere in his range of perception - even if he couldn't see someone, if he heard them he'd go hunting them down for sport. if he scented them, even. and he gets a very keen sense of smell when he's in heat.

the people in charge + maesters probably decided after those first few heats after a pattern was set in his teen years that it's best to just lock his mean little self up during his heats and have supplies sent to him. aerion's heat chambers are always kept well-stocked with fresh bedding, food that would keep well for that duration, oils, soaps, what have you. he's just gotta fend for himself for however long it lasts.

until something happens like... maybe something triggers his heat at the tourney events, which is bad bc there's just so many people around and it's not like his family can just toss him in a root cellar. it's not even supposed to be his time yet, it's far too soon on the heels of the last one.

and somehow along comes dunk. big alpha dunk, has to be a little stupid if he's asking about aerion and being all concerned and "wanting to help" and doesn't want to see aerion "in distress."

and there's not much to do when aerion snatches at dunk's wrist and hauls him off to his tent, spitting insults and poison and mean mean mean the whole way.

and somehow dunk has the patience of the seven and doesn't give aerion a good shaking, doesn't insult him back, just weathers the verbal abuse until aerion wears himself out and then starts throwing things.

and maddeningly, dunk just dodges them. not even showing that it's all that hard to do, just. like tilts his head to let something go sailing by, or a step to the side, at least until dunk gets tired of that and just goes and wraps the feral little omega prince up in a full-body hold.

to say it's like trying to wrangle a sack of angry weasels would be putting it lightly.

biting, clawing, scratching, kicking, screeching when aerion can get a breath in between all his fighting, trying to overwhelm dunk with his scent.

and dunk just stays and keeps holding aerion, maybe adjusts a little when aerion's thrashing around threatens to break his own bones, but otherwise dunk is implacable, just mumbling soothing stuff the whole time like he's trying to calm a horse, not a dragon.

something about aerion finally just going limp and tired and dunk putting him gently on his bed to go look for food. and dunk being a little upset at there only being like bread and cheese and salt beef for an omega in heat.

maybe he asks for a hot meal for the prince, and when aerion with his heat-bright eyes and a snarl twisting his mouth goes to smack it out of his hands, dunk just holds it out of the way.

something about dunk wrapping himself around aerion and sitting down and handfeeding the prince bits of warm bread soaked in stew, then bits of meat, cooked vegetables. aerion's hissing and spitting venom still, but he's not spitting out the food or refusing it beyond trying to bite dunk.

something about when dunk goes to leave aerion alone in his tent for the night, aerion's scent ramps up from where it'd been calmer before. dunk catches the barest glint of violet eyes before aerion puts his back to dunk and tells him to go away and leave him alone.

and dunk.

doesn't.

just...

sits down in the tent at the entrance, maybe had a stool or chair. stays there. all night.

-enemies to lovers

-size difference

-power imbalance

-toxic mean bratty bottom

-himbo top

I love a trope done any way as long as it makes sense within the story itself so this is less anti-alpha!Dunk and more highlighting a more niche subtrope in the fandom. I know everyone loves alpha!Dunk and I do too, but it feels as potentially equally in-character for him to be an omega as much as an alpha. He has that protective and selfless nature that feels very suited for the omega characterization trope, though obviously his feisty younger self and great warrior skills also lend well to him being an alpha--but that's most fics, so I want to spread the love. This is a mixture of ships so I'll put what it is in each fic.

Sweeter than Mud by hellzboy

Dunk has always known he was tall, tall enough that it was peculiar- made even more so that he was an omega. A good thing, he thought. Most people that got close enough to scent his second gender assumed he was a beta who’d gotten lucky enough to share the bed of an omega. Then he meets the Targaryens.

(Dunk/Aerion) This is the fic that got me really into this subtrope for me. The way they write Aerion and Dunk's meeting is just so predatory and yet Dunk finds himself really into it despite himself. A little teaser quote for fun:

The prince’s tongue darted out, licking the corner of his mouth- scenting the air; like a snake- lizard? He thought. The air between them felt thick, charged, like the moments before a storm breaks. Dunk swallowed harshly, his throat dry as sand. He could feel the prince's scent now, wafting toward him on the breeze, sharp and metallic, like heated steel fresh from the forge, undercut with something wilder, almost smoky, like dragonfire banked low. Alpha. It wrapped around Dunk's senses, making his knees weaken just a fraction. 

let me see the heat get to you by snarwor aka @snarwor

In the Seven Kingdoms, only an alpha can be sworn a knight of the realm. Somehow, Dunk's gone this long without presenting as anything. But Ser Lyonel Baratheon has a talent for getting him hot under the collar. Should mean nothing. Let the games begin. (a remix of the show, but make it omegaverse)

(Dunk/Lyonel) I love a fic where the omegaverse aspects are built into the worldbuilding of the fic they're in, and this is such a good example of this. It makes sense both in ASOIAF and omegaverse rules that only an alpha should be a knight and it makes sense that Dunk is assumed to be an alpha due to his height despite not presenting yet. Lyonel catches it at their first meeting, though, and the sparks fly in such a fun way. It also has some interesting (and, to me, believable) fanon interpretations for Stormlands customs and history. Tidbit for the road:

A voice from long ago echoed in the back of his mind. We call the first stage of the hunt ‘the quest,’ where a huntsman finds out if there’s anything worth pursuing at dawn in the first place. Only when you’re certain there’s something worth chasing should you set your mind to a hunt. He’d found his worthy quarry. In fact, he’d been staring at the man long enough that he’d felt the alpha’s gaze upon him. Hesitantly, the man looked over his shoulder, instantly ensnared by Lyonel’s regard. Gods, but his eyes were so blue, even from this distance and this dim a room. The man did a nervous shuffle, glancing away from the weight of his stare as if denying his attention would shield him from it. No such luck, little deer.

Embers in the Meadow by Credenciales

Valarr and Dunk met since the first day Valarr arrived at Ashford. Omega!Duncan Alpha!Valarr

(Dunk/Valarr) In comparison to the stormy and dangerous men paired with Dunk above, this one is much softer--two good and loyal knights who find care between one another. There is much less of a heirarchy in the intimate power dynamics between them as an alpha and omega, which is a nice palatte cleanser when reading the messy fics of the fandom. My favorite chapters are the ones from Valarr's POV as there's such a quiet steadiness in his perspective that's nice to read. Tidbit to entice:

pov: you interrupted his slumber party with spider-man