Aerion’s mouth raised in the ghost of a smile, actually finding amusement in the Lannister alpha in front of him. He wasn’t charmed by the man’s wit, but it was comical to see how much effort he put into making the Targaryen’s omega laugh to some degree. His scent mixed with the crowd’s, and Aerion couldn’t pretend to be entranced by it–let alone enough to think him funny. The Lannister was the cousin of the son of a Lord, or whatever complicated dynamic tied him to nobility, and Maekar insisted that Aerion entertain him during the feast.

Looking around, Aerion realized he was stuck in this perpetual cycle of entertaining potential suitors. Never alone, of course. He could feel his father’s gaze on him from across the room, no doubt nibbling on some ghastly fruit he favoured as he watched his son. He, along with the rest of Aerion’s wretched immediate family, felt it best that the omega communicate with his future alpha in public. 

It was to keep him chained. 

He sighed minutely, looking over at the table where his family sat. The alpha Lannister didn’t notice his discontent, instead continuing his spiel into nonsense that he must’ve believed Aerion laughed at. Aerion froze for a moment when his eyes flitted over Valarr. The man was watching them with such an intensity a heat started burning through Aerion’s body, before their eyes met. 

Aerion could see the question in them, and he nodded once before turning back to the Lannister. He relaxed more then, focusing on the conversation once again. Before the next song was over, Aerion would be seated at the table again. 

“My prince,” the Lannister droned on, “the bay is beautiful from outside the tower. On the brightest of days, you can see great distances and enjoy the sun’s heat down on your shoulders.” The air shifted slightly when he finished. Aerion nodded faintly, before a new voice entered their conversation.