Work Text:
You don't stay
You remind yourself that you've watched him fight before, seen him bleed, and laugh as if nothing happened, but when Duncan yanks the shield from Aerion's hand and slams it down onto him. Watching it hit Aerion's helmet, coming up and down and down again. Your belly lurched with dread, your fingers clutching the folds of your dress, listening to the metal clash against metal.
Duncan keeps coming down with the shield and comes to a halt before he starts swinging punches. He stands up and drags Aerion through the dirt. You rise quickly and smooth your dress and leave, you leave before he even yields, not because you couldn't bear it but because you know where it was going and you refuse to sit there and watch.
In your chambers you sit on the edge of your bed, teeth sunk deep into your finger. Biting the skin around the nail, like the day he split his palm open to the point it turned raw pink with blood seeping. You cried when you looked at it, and he looked at you as if you were ridiculous and told you to stop. “It’s only skin”, he said.
You remember how you shoved the maester away and said you'd do it yourself. Aerion sat on the stool watching you as you wrapped his hand yourself. He allowed it even though you were clumsy. He wouldn't let anyone else touch it.
The memory hits you all over again and makes your heart ache now. You’re so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear the knocks.
“My lady?” A maid says quietly with her eyes lowered, but before she could utter another word you lift your hand.
The walk to his chambers felt eternal, still thinking about his hands in yours when you were kids , about how he watched you bandage his wound, how he flexed his finger afterward and said, “See? Better already.”
You don't realize you have arrived at the door until your stomach churns. You reach for the doorknob and turn it– you see him. There he is, you think to yourself, lying on his back shirtless with bandages wrapped around his torso.
Pale fur across the mattress, and sheets of cream colored linen that are slightly wrinkled. The window across the room is narrow and tall with curtains drawn halfway back.
“Aerion”, you whisper, closing the door behind you gently. You walk across the room in hurried steps and sit onto the edge of the bed. His eyes flutter open, violet eyes hazy with who knows how much milk of the poppy they dosed with him, softening as they meet yours. He stays silent and keeps his eyes on you.
Your hand hovers over his face, fingers itching to touch his swollen face. Slowly but surely your hand cups his cheek, thumb tracing the line of his jaw tenderly. Careful to not touch the bruises, he scoffs and jerks his head away from you slightly. “Don’t touch me.” Even so prideful as he is his own body betrays him, head tilting into your palm.
You let out a soft, almost guilty? Laugh, shaking your head, not at him but at the way he acts. “Are you upset with me Aerion?” You ask as your fingers slide gently through his silvery-white hair, brushing it back from his forehead as each strand slips like silk in between your fingers.
“Mad? I am not mad,” he says, “I do not need you to coddle me, sister.”
You sigh, pressing your hand down onto the mattress, the mattress dips under your weight as you bring your legs from the floor up onto the bed. Careful to not press against his bruised side , you lie on your side , facing him and feeling the warmth radiating from his body.
Your fingers trail lightly over his chest, Aerion tenses at your touch but doesn’t say anything. “Gods, that fight..” you whisper, eyes fixated on his face, “That Duncan … he didn't hold back… he had no right .”
“It was nothing I couldn't handle,” he answers, you heard a crack in his voice but turned oblivious. You swallow hard, the memory flooding back to you, of Duncan's relentless blows to your brother.
For a heartbeat you imagined a life without Aerion, his silvery white hair covered in his blood instead of being clean and silky under your touch. The thoughts twist in your gut.
You move closer, “I know that you're strong… but I hated it when they touched you, hitting you, and how he dragged you through the dirt, you looked so small for a moment, brother it killed me to watch i had to leave.”
He scoffs, “I don't need pity” he rasps, words lacking conviction, he rarely allows himself to crave the comfort he seeks. “Im no child who needs to be pitied, sister. Father always said ....” His voice trails off.
You don't say any more words. You understand that the wound runs deeper than these bruises. The cold dismissals, demands for perfection, and the absence of any warmth from your father. Leaving you both bound by blood and always seeking each other, with no one else to turn to.
You reach out to cradle his cheek once again and, this time he doesn't jerk away, if anything he leans into it. Your free hand slides, fingers brushing the subtle window around your breasts. “I'm here,” you murmur. With a gentle tug you ease one of your breasts out, plump flesh, spilling out. Guiding his head to your chest, cradling him like you always have. “Let me hold you aerion. Like i always will.”
He hesitates, “This is foolish,” he says but does not resist. His hand lifts from the fur, trembling from the pain, cupping it without straining his injuries. His touch sends a shiver down your spine, his palm warm and callused against your softness. “Sister..” he breathes, half pleading.
“Let me take care of you.” you whisper, thumb tracing his lower lip, feeling it part slightly. He stares at you then shifts awkwardly on the bed, he inhales sharply but despite the pain he turns his body towards you.
His mouth finds your nipple, tentative at first but latches onto it, sucking gently and tongue swirling. You gasp as you feel the wet heat of his mouth enveloping your sensitive bud, teeth grazing just enough to sting you so sweetly.
You moan softly as you hold the back of his head, fingers playing in his hair as he tries to draw out the milk of comfort he so craves. No milk flows out of course.
This is not the first time you and your brother have done this. It feels wrong and you know that, you know if your father or anyone else found out, it would be looked down upon. You can’t help but melt at his touch and enjoy the pleasure.
“That’s it” you breathe out. This is you two, messy, holding each other through the pain. Aerion murmurs around your breast, voice muffled and as he pulls away to speak. “Tell me I'm good,” words raw , violet eyes staring at yours with a plea. “Tell me i did well in the yard against him, please sister. Say i was the better man.”
His voice cracks through his pride, Aerion lifts his hand to squeeze your breast gently. Once again you run your fingers through his scalp, “You were magnificent Aerion, no one could touch you, truly no one, I'm so proud.”
A shudder runs through him from your words, relief flooding to his face. He continues on sucking your breast harder than before. His breath grows uneven with ragged gasps, the pain in his ribs now forgotten in the haze of need.
Finally, Aerion releases his mouth from your breast with a wet sound, forehead dropping in between your breasts to nuzzle into your soft perfumed flesh. His silvery white hair tickling your chest as he inhales your scent deeply.
“You belong to me,” he whispers.
“Remain with me. Do not leave me like this.” It aches seeing your twin brother act like this, stripped of all his pride. You can't help but whisper endearment and he also can't help himself but suckle. Filling the room with soft sounds and your quiet gasps.