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Chapter Text

Aegon, second of his name,  sighed tiredly – eyes closed.  It was all for naught, he despaired. All of his advice, all of his suggestions that Vaemond Velaryon proposed a union between his grandchildren, born to two Velaryon cousins, Vaemond’s own son and his distant niece, and the future offspring of Lucerys and Rhaena. Why the fuck did he make this foolish bid for power. Surely he had to have known it could only end in tragedy. Am I the only sane person left in this cursed family? He could still hear the sound Dark Sister made as it cleaved through Vaemond’s head. No, enough. He tried to calm himself down. He couldn’t keep repeating the scene over and over again in his head, because it would surely drive him mad with fear and worry. He was safe in the nursery. But we aren’t safe. Why couldn’t he just propose the marriage and give up his own perceived birthright for the greater good. I would. I will. Anything to prevent this godforsaken war that will otherwise surely kill us all.  

Small hands pressed against his cheeks, demanding attention and stopping Aegon’s downwards spiral of despair.  He looked  down at his son Jaehaerys, cuddled to his chest while seated on his right leg.   

“Why are you sad, kepa? I don’t like it when you’re sad.” Solemn purple eyes looked up at him from underneath a fringe of golden hair. He could feel his lips twisting into a half smile. Such a loving little dragon

Aegon presumed his smile must not be a convincing one, because his son frowned – his small lips curled into a semblance of ennui. All of his children wanted their time together to be a happy one, filled with play and laughter. Such a protective little hatchling, as shame unfurled inside of him. His son did not deserve to be confronted with all the fears of their impeding future. Let them be children as I never have.

“Nothing that you should worry over, tresy.” He tickled his boy’s sides and watched as the child giggled.  A commotion caught his attention as another child ran across the nursery, peering up at Aegon and Jaehaerys interestedly. It was not his beloved daughter or second son, but one born one of Rhaenyra and Daemon.

Aegon the third looks quite a bit like me. Aegon mused, distractingly amused by the realization. No wonder the old dragon frowned so heavily at me, remembering the focused stare Daemon had thrown him in the throne room – unnerving as it was. Even Aemond had noticed and stepped in front of Aegon to shield him from those piercing eyes.  He must have realized the resemblance and be wrought. Aegon breathed in his own child’s scent and closed his eyes. He wasn’t going to interact with Daemon’s brood unless he absolutely had to, lest the madman introduced him to Dark Sister before his time. Time might short either way, Aegon thought darkly. Still, he wouldn’t tempt the fates.

His son tucked his head against his neck and collar bone more firmly – right over his scent gland – instinctively seeking and providing comfort. An imaginary twinge and a hint of something in the air addled Aegon. The stress must be getting to me. For he was unpresented – late, almost embarrassingly so – and certain to present beta when he did. Only alpha’s and the ever illusive omega could scent so distinctively to sense emotions. Beta’s scarcely had more control over their senses than when they were unpresented.

It must be confusing to distinguish everyone’s emotions. He supposed. Most days Aegon already felt torn to shreds, hanging on by a thread. A beta presentation would not be so bad – even if mother will hate me even more for it. He tried not to be bitter when in the presence of his children - Jaehaera and Maelor chirping on the other side of the nursery, Jaehaerys showing his love so openly. Why can’t she just love me for me.

He had living proof that he could love and be loved in return right here in this room. He could never hate his children – never would he treat them as the King or his mother had done him – both guilty of a multitude of grievances. Mother must make her peace with the fact, I won’t be an alpha. She’ll have to be content with only two Alpha children. Aegon pondered. Aemond and Daeron. He sighed, worried. Their littlest brother had only just presented in Oldtown. I’ll have to fly over soon to congratulate him and see if his senses don’t overwhelm him. Aemond controlled his scent very well indeed, according to his mother – though how she could tell as a beta, Aegon never knew. Perhaps it controls him more than the other way around and she can’t tell the difference.

His brother certainly looked and acted the part – a true dragon alpha if there ever was one. Thank all the gods, old and new, Helaena is a beta. All those scents and emotions on top of her dreams. It would break his sister. A beta was a perfectly good designation. Aegon’s resolve hardened. No. Mother will have two of each. It will have to be enough.

Aegon’s build did not indicate he would present Alpha, much to his mother’s everlasting shame. An omega designation was so rare and sacred, that none considered it possible. He knew she had hoped once upon a time that he present as an omega, solving all of their woes, but eventually she had resigned herself to the bitter truth that he would most likely be a beta and had married him off to his sister against their wills – unpresented state or not.

Targaryens were a queer bunch to her, but they just as all of Westeros held omegas above all in the family – sacred and beloved. A gift from the gods to be revered. Perhaps Targaryens held them even more sacred than most. For it was insisted upon and written in the scripture of exception – that should a royal omega present – they could in theory become monarch if male themselves, as Aegon the conqueror had been with 2 alpha wives. Though, the more likely option, for seldom omega’s strived to be in such a position – the Omega Royal had the ultimate right to choose a male alpha Targaryen to be king and sire the next king upon his body – though once a mating had been officiated with a bonding bite, they were considered married and the alpha the Omega Royal chose would be king no matter if the omega bore them heirs of the omega’s body, unlikely as it was they did not. Omegas were fertile and only ever birthed Alphas or if they were truly blessed an omega themselves.

Maybe Maegor could have been prevented if Aegon had chosen a male alpha to be king in his stead. Why anyone would want that cursed throne is beyond me.

A small hand tugged his sleeve and Aegon shook himself out of his musings. He was nuzzling his son, who was happily purring in his lap – a sound all unpresented children could make – to indicate they felt happy and safe.

He tried to smile in a neutral way, but soon a more genuine one formed without effort. The boy was precious and Aegon loved children in general – his own even more so of course, but children…

Blunt honesty. Disgusting fluids and noses against his doublets and cape. Paint ruining his clothes. Even getting it into his hair. He remembered in fond memory. Demanding at times, yes, wishing for their every whim to be satisfied, certainly. He admitted to himself he overindulged them often. But also unending love and affection. No plots save for those to obtain more sweets, toys or lovely dresses and ribbons for Jaehaera’s hair. No expectations except that they be tended to and coddled for the loved little dragons that they are. Oh yes. Children are more preferable than adults indeed.

“Yes, zaldritsos?” Little dragon indeed.

The boy grinned. He really does take after me.

“Kepa says you are an Aegon too.”

“I am.”

The boy almost trembled in excitement, clapping his hands together in joy. Jaehaerys rumbled in sleepy distaste at the sound, almost completely asleep and annoyed to be disturbed. Aegon pressed another kiss into his hair and his son slumped fully unto his chest.. Little Aegon’s eyes went wide and he rumbled instinctively as he leaned forward – an unpresented child trying to sooth another. Adorable. In his excitement and need to soothe, the boy overbalanced – little as he was – and toppled forward. Aegon, learned in the ways of managing multiple children, caught him and brought him unto his left leg – opposite a now sleeping Jaehaerys – as he would have done his other two children. Best he is asleep, his boy was a possessive little dragon. Then the reality hit him. Suddenly, for all his intentions, he had Daemon Targaryen firstborn male pup in his lap.

Seven Hells

The child certainly experienced no anxiety at the situation because he instantly mirrored Jaehaerys and cuddled trustingly to Aegon’s chest and scent gland. Aegon stiffened but relaxed by increments as suddenly questioning eyes stared up at him – amethyst, like Aemond’s.

Little Aegon nuzzled his scent gland again and Aegon sighed, bringing his arm around the other child firmly – so he wouldn’t fall and could settle comfortably against his body. I am reduced to a pillow. He smiled – amused despite everything that had happed today.

“You are very gevie.” Spoken matter of factly and followed by a kiss to his scent gland. Innocent but still. No doubt, imitating what he had seen his father do to his mother. It startled a laugh out of Aegon and looked down at the precocious child. He might look like me, but he gets his confidence from his father.

“Zaldritsos, you will be a great charmer one day.” He cupped the child’s head and redirected it slightly. Not necessarily wanting to object to the child’s affection but… Nuzzling yes, kisses from this particular child bestowed upon him – he could only imagine what the child’s parents -

“Like their mother – and father.” His breath stuttered and little Aegon whined as he tensed in fear suddenly.

Daemon Targaryen was leaning against the door frame of the nursery. He had not heard the man come in. How long has he been there? The intimidating alpha stared Aegon blatantly down, eyes flicking to his own son and little Jaehaerys on his lap, then suddenly moving towards them. He instinctively brought both children closer to this chest. Aegon watched him stalk closer, like a dragon made man - hunting his prey. Daemon’s head tilted to the side as he reached them. Inhaling deeply as he scented the air. He frowned. And then without warning a surprisingly soft hand cupped his chin. Aegon held still. I am going to die. I know it. He killed a man in open court today and -

 “Gevie indeed” Derailing Aegon’s thoughts entirely – suddenly faced with an unprecedented situation. No, Rhaenyra might kill me in his stead.

Intense eyes stared down at him. He felt like prey indeed – holding still and hoping for the predator to move on. Only, he didn’t. Daemon thumbed Aegon’s bottom lip. He forced himself not to react, lest he provoke the man to violence or… or something else, still unsure at what was happening. The Alpha leaned closer still. “Your scent is… sweet.”

What in the seven Hells is this... If Daemon thinks I’m going to…

“Thank you, I suppose.”  He was forced to say, trying to break the tension – lips moving against the thumb when Daemon pressed down even harder.

Take your child and leave me the fuck alone, you madman. Aegon thought uncomfortable with the attention and touch. His scent must have soured because Daemon’s nose wrinkled. Daemon took a step back, hands clasping together at the small of his back. Aemond does the same thing when he is uncomfortable or uncertain. Aegon noted. What did Daemon have to be uncomfortable or uncertain about. They’re probably still cleaning Vaemond’s blood of the floor.

To distract himself he redirected whatever this was to a safer topic. Daemon Targaryen was many things and while he didn’t know half of what the man thought or acted upon. He knew the man loved all his children fiercely.

“You have beautiful children, uncle” He had caught sight of little Viserys when he had first entered – firmly asleep in his crib.

“So do you, zaldritsos, no wonder with such a beauty as you for their father.”

Aegon felt his neck and cheeks warm as he blushed, cursing his fair skin for once. He knew he would be rosy pink at this rate. It was true that he was considered beautiful, but mostly that was mired with lust and vile perversions. This … This was different. He knew the difference all too well. The open admiration in Daemon’s voice was hard to deny. His heart skipped a beat in quiet joy. Not many people held Aegon in high regard for anything – be it his appearance or character. To receive such an honest compliment, from Daemon Targaryen of all people. Well. Aegon could admit it pleased some neglected part of him greatly. He hid his growing smile in Jaehaerys’ golden wispy hair, pressing a kiss to his crown. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Daemon twitching, as if he wanted to reach out once more. 

The sound of a throat clearing drew both their attentions.

Where their uncle had leaned before, now rested Aemond. Arms crossed tightly over his chest, frowning. Aegon smiled “Brother.” His scent must have flared with enough happiness that both alpha’s relaxed. “What are you doing here? You know this is my quiet time with the children. And you are normally training at arms with ser Cole, are you not?” His nose twitched in distaste. He really despised the man. The day his mother agreed he wouldn’t have to keep training was one of his happiest. Cunt of man

Daemon leaned closer in and Aemond stepped completely into the room. “Is he not one of your favored then, zaldritsos?” Aegon snorted in response. Daemon smiled at his unspoken answer. Why does Daemon keep calling me little dragon. I am not a small child and he never cared for the bonds of kinship before besides.

“Aegon,” He felt a headache start to form behind his eyes at the irate tone. His brother was in a mood to be sure. What did I do to deserve this? First Vaemond, then Daemon, now Aemond… Let this cursed day be done before it gets even worse. We still have to go that farce of a feast tonight. Do not let it get worse. Though how it could, he wasn’t sure.

“Grandsire wishes to speak to you”

And there it was. Aegon groaned and closed his eyes. Distaste and hate claiming him once more.

“What does that cursed cunt want now, Aemond.”

Daemon barked out a surprised laugh at his snapped reply.

His brother growled at his words. He probably wasn’t happy with Aegon clearly displaying his hatred of Otto Hightower so openly to Daemon, but he was not to be deterred. I am not the problem here .I just want some peace and quiet with my children after seeing a man’s head cut off and before the feast that is going be a torture unto itself.  

His brother had made his way completely over to him, arms spread out pointedly . Aegon sighed. He wasn’t getting out of this. “He is not to be deterred?”

Aemond took little Jaehaerys from him and gently laid him down in his cradle bed, brushing the sleeping boy’s fringe back. “It is grandsire.” An answer in and of itself.

“Fine.” Aegon couldn’t suppress the petulance entirely but  Aemond smiled at him. And then all but snarled at Daemon as he leaned in to take his own son from Aegon’s embrace.

 “I will see you at dinner, olvie gevie zaldrizoti” Most beautiful of dragons

Aegon opened his mouth in slight shock at the words spoken.

“Aegon, come.” His brother pulled him upright sharply, while delivering the order. Surprised at the power behind the movement, Aegon overbalanced like the pup had done before him. Before he could fall, Aemond’s arm quickly circled his waist, tugging him close – Aegon’s hands spread against his chest while Aemond’s own hand settled on Aegon’s hip.

The world has gone mad.

He heard a chuckle escape Daemon as he walked away, but nothing could have persuaded Aegon to leave his brother’s arm. Though not displeased, Aegon felt as if a second predator had appeared.

 Maybe madness isn’t so bad.

Aemond stared down at him and Aegon felt – he didn’t know what he felt. Aemond gently thumbed his hipbone, before addressing him again more softly – intimate even.

“Come brother, we will face grandsire and then prepare for tonight’s feast.”

Aegon nodded and slowly but almost bashfully rested his forehead against Aemond’s neck and scent gland. His younger brother shivered.

“You won’t leave me alone with him?” A hint of desperation must have leaked out in his scent because Aemond’s hand withdrew from his hip to rub comforting circles on his back.

“Not until you wish me gone from your side.”

Aegon drew back completely, pleased and at ease. His brother didn’t make oaths lightly. And he was not fool enough not to take full advantage of it. “Well then, that’s settled.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, wordlessly demanding clarification.

“That would be never.”

A soft sound emanated from Aemond – a purr. His little brother, a strong alpha, purring for him.

Maybe we’ve all gone mad.

Chapter Text

He didn’t even think about it as his hand shot out to grip Aemond’s arm before he could raise it to toast. Seven Hells. I guess this means I can’t leave early. Who knows what Aemond will do if left unsupervised. He too wanted to wipe the smirk off of Lucerys’ face, but he would not have his children exposed to this unrelenting hatred and possibly worse. I knew this was going to end in disaster. He eyed the glazed pig. The sight and smell turned his stomach. I am ill. He kept what little he had eaten down with effort as he tried to breathe through his nausea.

“No.” It came out weaker than he would have liked but it was still decisive. He felt Aemond shift in rebellion. He dug his fingers into Aemond’s forearm and shook it hard. “I said no, Aemond.”

“I shall speak.” His hand was already curled firmly around his cup of wine. A quick glance told Aegon more than enough. I know that look, that snarl, no. A man already died today, I won’t have any more violence. I can’t bear it. Let this godforsaken dinner end before I vomit or scream – either is likely.

“You shall keep a civil tongue in your mouth before the children, Aemond, I will not have vile words or violence in their presence.” He spoke sternly, trying to breathe as little as he could through his nose, though it left a film of something cloying at the back of his throat. Which itched. Do not cross me on this, brother, you will not like my response.

Aemond inhaled sharply, clearly sensing Aegon was not going to back down. His hand went slack around the cup. Now, to keep the other idiot from getting himself killed. Aegon in turn stared the frankly suicidal boy down and watched as that that grin slowly faltered before disappearing altogether. Lucerys reddened considerably. Aegon raised both his eyebrows and the boy looked away entirely. Good. It’s like he has a fucking death wish provoking Aemond like that by smirking and tapping his fucking eye. And that fucking pig,…  If he craved the Stranger’s embrace so much, he could chase it without enticing Aemond into becoming a kinslayer. Tempting though it is. Gods knows I have considered it. Aegon thought with heat as he remembered his conversation with not only his grandsire but his sainted mother as well.

He shifted carefully to look at her without drawing her notice. She sat pious, speaking to Princess Rhaenys, not a hair out of place. As if she hadn’t dug her nails into his temples just hours before, screaming and raging in his face that he was the challenge. She had been unhinged, more so than usual. More than she had ever been with Aemond present. Vaemond’s death has us all deranged. His brother had been ill at ease when they dressed in solitude. He supposed it must be a shock to the system to see his beloved mother handle his older brother so. Gods knows he thinks her perfect. Though, perhaps, with Aemond directly buffering him from his mother, he had a change of heart. If only, I could use some support. This family is cursed.

He drank from his wine and struggled to swallow it down. Great, now even the taste of wine has soured. It has all been reduced to madness and we will all burn. Even the air felt oppressive. And I am still stuck here. Aware that Aemond was one breath away from all  but throwing his dagger at Lucerys.

He shivered. He ignored to scratch his scent gland and neck. His skin felt … strange. One could argue that this was an altogether different kind of madness. Aegon thought acidly as he took in his surroundings. Not one but two fires roaring. No wonder I feel as if I am burning. It is fucking summer. Aegon knew they were dragons, but did they have to take it so fucking literally. I am all but boiling. I want my fucking dragon. He would ride him tomorrow if he was well enough. He felt sweat gather at his temples. Three kingsguard stood positioned around the room. He ignored Cole’s judging gaze. Soft music played in the corner, but it only acerbated his headache.

 Every Targaryen and Velaryon of their main line was seated at the  opulent table – save Corlys. Lucky bastard. Only little Maelor and Viserys had remained in the royal nursery, deemed too young to attend. The other children were apparently old enough to dine together with the adults on this special occasion – much to the great joy of his twins and little Aegon who were huddled together on his right. They had insisted on being seated together, squeezed in between him and Helaena. He spared them a glance and smiled. The three were chattering away. Little Aegon cornered by his twins, his little head moving from side to side as each twin demanded his entire attention – competitive and jealous to the bitter end. Little dragons. He shook his head. At least some of us are enjoying themselves.

To his left sat Aemond, a grateful buffer from his mother and the King. Across him sat the Velaryon boys and their betrotheds, Rhaenys as well as Daemon and Rhaenyra.  If his encounter with Daemon had been uncomfortable before, it was even more so now. His stare never seemed to leave Aegon and he felt his brother growing more and more tense as he lowly began to growl.

“Lykiri, Aemond.” Calm down. He spoke softly. Gods his head was pounding.

He brought his hand to his brother’s knee and squeezed gently. A silent plea for mercy. Aemond’s own hand covered his, keeping it pressed to his body when Aegon made to withdraw it. Aegon looked at Aemond, eyebrow raised. Aemond tilted his head and Aegon leaned in. He swore he could hear a soft growl from across the table, but his gaze never wavered from Aemond.

“What is his problem?” Aemond hissed. “What happened in the nursery, Aegon? I saw and heard some of it, but…” The pause was telling.

Offended, Aegon tugged his hand back, but Aemond pressed down harder.

Fucking alphas.

“Nothing happened, Aemond, I don’t like what you’re implying. I am pure when it concerns alphas, do you think me so weak – so wanton – that I would what… bed Daemon Targaryen of all people.”

Aemond’s gaze was heavy and Aegon’s throat felt parched. He was sweating and he felt uncomfortably hot. The headache that began in the nursey had by now turned into a full-blown migraine. His vision blackened at the edges, but he did not look away. He’ll think I’m not being truthful. Why does everything have to be such a struggle.

He felt close to tears for some reason and queasy. He hadn’t managed to eat much, because surely he would empty his stomach – perhaps I have caught something from one of the children – small disease filled terrors that passed on disease upon disease on him. It’s my own fault. Aegon could not let them be when they were weak with fever. The idea of only letting maids or Maelor’s wet-nurses tend to them in such a time, unthinkable. Maelor had been sniffling two days past, perhaps I have caught that.

Aemond’s grip tightened and Aegon blinked, trying to clear his vision. His brother looked grim.

“I do not care for how he looked at you then – how he blatantly stares at you now.”

A quick glance confirmed that Daemon was indeed still staring at him. Openly. Worse, Rhaenyra had noticed and her mouth was pursed. He looked at back Aemond.

“I do not care for it either, valonqar, but –“

Aemond rumbled, a pleased noise despite the tension. “I like that.”

“I’m sorry?” His mind felt clouded. Why the fuck is it so hard to concentrate.

“When you call me valonqar.” Did I? “You don’t do it often, you keep it for Daeron only.” There was a bitter note to his tone. Or was it scent? No, Aegon could not distinguish scents. He was unpresented and beta to be on top of that. It must be a sickness clouding everything.

“I – I do not…” It wasn’t much of a defense. Aegon knew he sounded uncertain. He did often use the word to describe Daeron. My first pup, more so than mother’s. Mine. I loved him from the start. I cried for months when they took him away. How dare they! He kept the words behind clenched teeth. It would most certainly not be appreciated if he claimed Daeron as such. He often bitterly wondered if his obvious adoration of his youngest brother had been the reason the boy had been sent to ward for Oldtown. A punishment or leverage…

“You do and you did.” There was such an unyielding tone to his brother’s voice. Aegon ached to bare his teeth. Can’t you see I am hanging on by thread?

“I did?” He couldn’t help but ask. It was stronger than himself. He needed to clear his head or sleep this illness off. His stomach cramped painfully. His other hand pressed against his lower belly, trying to rub circles to alleviate his aches – but it felt as if he couldn’t quite coordinate his movements and all he could do was press down. He inhaled a gasp of pain.

“You liked it, I still have one eye, lēkia.” Aemond leaned even closer. He smelled divine.  “In the nursery, when Daemon complimented you, you liked it very much.” Aegon flushed once more. Aemond watched his face intently, then his lips curled into a small snarl. “Your scent was heavy with it.”

“Is it a crime to like being complimented, Aemond?” Aegon argued weakly. “What sin would you place on my soul? I liked it, fine.” His lower back felt strained. Did I strain a muscle when playing with the children? They were quite active this afternoon before their naps.

Aemond’s eye glittered. There was madness there, but something else as well, something that sent shivers down Aegon’s back – something coiled at the base of his spine. Surely he has never looked at me like this before.

“Adultery is a sin, laying with an alpha –“

“Aemond!” The coil unraveled. His shoulders tensed in offense and disbelief at the words coming out of his brother’s mouth.   

“Getting fucked by an alpha when undesignated is a crime, for a royal child of the King, getting fucked when you present beta, also still a crime, if the alpha is not female. I wouldn’t have you punished for the likes of him…” Not him, Aegon thought almost hysterically, but perhaps you… Slowly it dawned on Aegon.

“Are you jealous?” He asked incredulously, voice tight and sharp. Are you throwing hateful words my way because… because…

“I am looking out for your virtue, brother” Aemond countered infuriatingly, voice as devout as the Maiden herself, interrupting his thoughts.

Aegon barked out a laugh. The self-righteous little prat. He knew they were gathering attention but he couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. “I’ve been married for years and have three children, Aemond.” He responded drily. “I am well-versed in the matters of the flesh.” Don’t think about Helaena. It would only make him even more miserable.

Aemond all but growled. Aegon sighed in exasperation. How did he think the twins and Maelor came to be. Not that Aegon liked dwelling on it. Tears and soft hands and still it left him feeling like he was a… He shook his head. No. They had both been forced into that position. Three children were enough, no matter what mother says.

“Yes, but you must still be pure, must you not.”  It was mean-spirited and he knew Aemond regretted it as he spoke the words. Yet he finally tugged his hand free – his heart racing - clenching. I am done, get over what the fuck your problem is, but do not work your shit out on me. He drew back despite the remorse pouring out of every pore of Aemond’s countenance. It had also been spoken too loud, Aegon realized, as he heard the Velaryon boys snort with laughter. He snarled lowly. Just because your whore of a mother doesn’t guard your virtues. Aemond reached for him but Aegon turned to the children, who were frowning at them – the tension in the room. He attempted a smile, but Jaehaerys was clearly unhappy and little Aegon even ignored Jaehaera tugging on his arm – eyes wide. Gods be damned. I told Aemond, not in front of the children.

“I heard you visited my children, Aegon.” Rhaenyra spoke suddenly, gathering his interest to her. He made the ultimate mistake of looking at her. Daemon turned to his wife, breaking his stare, frowning. I do not need this in my life.

“I visited the royal nursery, sister, for there my own children reside. I visit them daily.” He responded automatically. Nothing good comes from her attention.

“Such a dutiful father.” It was all but sneered. Cunt, she is a cunt – and a whore. She regarded him coldly, then smiled – though it was sharp – her small beta teeth bared. Something primal in him itched  at the pitiful display. He wanted to show her what it really meant to show teeth. Put her in her place. Then she spoke and his world stopped. “I wish for you to cease visiting my children from this moment on. You are not welcome in the nursery.” Pure panic coursed through his veins. No, my children, I won’t survive without them. No. What would they think.

“Rhaenyra, this is not what I meant to achieve.” Daemon interjected, but it clearly only riled her up further. Her shoulders were near her ears but her eyes were glittering in what Aegon surmised to be rage.

“Or to be alone with my husband, gevie as you are, undesignated whelp.”

Aemond growled loudly. Daemon tried to touch her shoulder, but she shrugged him off. Aegon’s mouth dropped open at the vile insult. A person’s designation was not to be mocked. Everyone knew that to not present at all – to be undesignated, was a heavy burden very few carried along with the immense shame associated with it. I know I am late but I still have time. He thought in despair.

“Excuse me?” He forced the words out. She had levied one of the worst insults on him that a person could. His pride demanded he respond – painful as it was. His gut clenched. He gasped in another painful breath.

“You heard me. You will stay away from my children and my husband.” What a delight she truly is. I hope you choke on your lemon pies. Cunt.

“I encountered your husband in the nursery. I was there first. You cannot fault me for that.” Aegon tried to reason, his vision blackening at the edges.  “And it seems to me that you are implying something untoward happened between uncle Daemon and me, I can assure you that - ”

“I care not for your vile lies, we all know of your proclivities.” She cut him off harshly, disregarding any sense of common decency. Others tensed around the table. Nothing good can follow this madness.

“Rhaenyra, I told you his scent is pure, what are you doing?” Daemon argued, his own teeth bared in visible irritation. The alpha practically radiated anger.

“Pure and sweet – yes, well there are ways around that, I will not have that whore tempting you and endangering our children.”

“You are mad.” Aegon breathed out. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the King turn to them and his mother displeasure written all over her face. Gods, not now.

“Boy, what is this?“ The King demanded, his voice sharp. Of course you pay attention to me if it concerns your precious daughter. Bitterness enveloped him. Aemond tried to touch his shoulder but he drew his upper lip back in a warning snarl.

“Well?” His father looked angry. Aegon held his gaze. Fine. 

“She just implied –“

“Are you not pure? Are you tempting men with your wiles? Have you been endangering her children?” The king spat at him. “I will not have an unpresented child of mine act so wild. Answer me boy, or you shall be whipped. Has your brother prevented your shame to be known with his scent, is that- I will have him caned if so.”

Open shock echoed around the table. The kingsguard tensed, ready to comply with any order. Maids swiftly gathered the children up and away. His mother was twisting her fingers. Rhaenyra leaned back, pleased. Daemon and Aemond were growling lowly.

“Viserys!” Rhaenys spoke, her eyes sharp as Aegon briefly met her gaze. Is she defending me?

Hysteria bubbled up inside him and despair grew. His stomach clenched harshly and his vision blurred with shameful tears. He could scent an acrid scent of fear from Aemond but rage as well. But that could not be. He could not scent emotions. What is happening? By the gods it felt as if there was a thunderstorm brewing. His nose burned. Tension rose even further. And suddenly, he could hear Lucerys giggle. Fucking suicidal bastard. See if I try to save you from yourself again. Next time he would leave him to his fate. He could die in Vhagar’s fire for all Aegon cared. Aemond being a kinslayer be damned.

“Well, what of your scent, boy?” A low hiss, clearly threatening and just like that – he was completely and utterly done. The thunderstorm erupted with a rage unforeseen and all-encompassing. There was no holding back. The rage utterly consumed him.

“I have a NAME!” Aegon screamed, standing so quickly his chair teetered over with a loud bang.  He felt fevered. Vision weaving in and out. He felt unsteady. His knees buckled but he braced himself, his hands splayed out on the table before him to steady him. His wine goblet had fallen over, spilling its contents over the gold cloth. “And a birthright.” He snarled.

I can’t breathe, why can’t I breathe. He inhaled rapidly. He was saying things he shouldn’t and could faintly hear his mother calling his name. Over the thunderstorm, he could hear Rhaenyra’s spiteful voice. He turned to her and snarled in pure aggression. Teeth sharper somehow, nicking his lips. He could taste blood and licked his lips slowly in uncomprehending disbelief. His father spoke – his words muddled as if spoken under water – all it did was make Aegon turn his livid gaze upon the King. He saw his father blanch. I will rip her throat out. Yours. I will burn this keep to the ground before I let this stand – before I let her threaten me and mine any more. Enough.

“Aegon, please. No one is threatening you or yours. Not Aemond, not Helaena, not the pups.” Rheanys spoke. Had he said that out loud. What the fuck was happening. I can’ breathe. I can’t… the air is so heavy. What is that fucking smell. Danger. Cunts. Why can’t you leave me alone in peace. All you people do is tear at me and soon there will be nothing left.  He saw Rhaenys flinch as he drew in labored breaths.

“That spoiled cunt wishes to keep me from my kin, implies I seek to bed her husband – implies I have done things that she has done herself so openly and blatantly.” Sharp breaths.

“Hush boy, before you lose your head like the inferior being you are.” Rhaenyra’s words suddenly clear. Sunfyre will burn you until there is naught but ashes left. Do not test me. I have had enough of your undeserved abuse and neglect.

“Rhaenyra, stop.” Daemon spoke surprisingly severe as he pulled her against his side harshly. Her ire turned to her husband. It was all Aegon could do to salvage some shred of control. His body shook – trembling. Calm. Calm. Calm…

“Why, Daemon? Will you not defend me as you did against Vaemond? Is there a reason for that?”

“Not that I have bedded the boy, I told you of his scent.”

“yes, sweet. And gevie, you said he was – I remember.”

“That’s not what I meant, you fool.”

The words fired rapidly between the two of them. Why couldn’t they both leave him the fuck alone. He couldn’t breathe in this boiling room. Gods the smells. Something burned his in his nose sharply – at the back of his tongue – down his throat. His lungs were burning. He was going to vomit.

“To not be pure would be treason, would it not.” Lucerys’ gasp at his mother’s words almost lost in the oppressive silence that followed. Aegon stilled, gaze sharp. Treason could mean exile – caning – public humiliation and penance – but also death. Fucking whore. Enough.

He cocked his head and then lost what little control he had regained. But the rage from before had been replaced with cold wrath to bring down what threatened him – razor sharp fury to eliminate what stood in his way.  He let his weight rest fully on the table. Wood splintering beneath his fingertips as he dug sharpened nails into it. Where he had screamed before, he now hissed low and harsh.

“You dare threaten me and my brother?” She had finally calmed down enough to look concerned. A flash of dismay and fear passed over her face. He didn’t care. “We, who have done nothing wrong but be born – only to have earned your scorn and ire.” He turned to look at his father. His mother’s hands crossed in front of her mouth, but her eyes were wide with wonder. “You attack me? While she defies your every order – flouts every semblance of dignity or duty – while her baseborn boys sit there and laugh at my maimed brother – who is a far better alpha than they could ever hope to be… All of them who have faced no justice for any of their wrongdoings – and you speak to me like this?” He hissed.

Gods be damned I will burn it all down to the ground until there was nothing left but ashes.

Viserys frowned but looked very uncertain. Rhaenys looked carved from marble.

“Have a care –“

“NO.” Wood splintered underneath his fingertips. Rage once again raced through his body like unstoppable wildfire. The taste of blood was strong once more. He licked his lips. He shook his head. He closed his eyes and tried to shake himself out of whatever this was. “No.” His arms strained and his knees buckled. He leaned against the table. Wood splintered further. Splinters digging into the flesh of his fingertips. He flexed his fingers.

 “Aegon…” Daemon uttered his name cautiously. He snarled weakly. He tried to raise his head and open his eyes but couldn’t. A strong smell urged him to calm down.

“No.” He shook his head. Nausea clawing at the back of his throat. “Do not speak to me, uncle, your wife might take offense and ask for my head next.” He bit out. The calming scent grew, pressing down on him.

“Aegon, you are presenting. We need to get you to the maester.”

A soft hand touched his back. He opened his eyes. When had he slumped over the table. Aemond’s worried face wove in and out of focus.

“You are presenting, Aegon.” His brother spoke softly. A new strong scent embracing him. “You need to calm down. It is dangerous for you to present omega at your age.” Omega?

He tried to stand but his knees buckled out from under him completely. Aemond’s strong grip saved him from falling and the world turned suddenly as his brother hefted him completely into his arms. Aemond’s hold felt sickeningly spinning as his brother carried him away.  Aegon threw up over himself. Vision dimming. Shame overwhelmed him.

“I’m sorry, Aemond, I’m sorry.” Aegon looked up weakly, head against his brother neck – his scent gland. “I don’t … I don’t feel well, what’s happening brother?” His grasp on reality slackened.

“-gon, no. Aegon please. Fight it, brother.”

“I am burning, valonqar, I’m sorry. I can’t… I can’t.” He gasped wetly, tasting blood. “Help me, Aemond. Please, I am burning alive.” He gritted out weakly, softly sobbing into his brother’s body – seeking comfort – seeking relief from the agony afflicting his body. Aemond’s hold tightened. “It hurts, have mercy, Aemond.”

And then, in blessed reprieve,  Aegon could finally feel himself slacken as everything blissfully went silent and then black.

Chapter Text

The fever raged fiercely as his body remade itself. He screamed and struggled. He would surely die. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. He was engulfed in Fire and Blood. Aemond, help me. Do you have no mercy for me? Aemond, please!

A loud growl echoed. It permeated his very being. It brought him a second of sweet relief then agony claimed him once more.

Painful convulsions shook throughout his body. His limbs trembled. Sweat bled from him like a river raging towards the sea. His back arched sharply once – twice – his body strained beyond its limit, then he slackened into the soft mattress. He inhaled rapidly though shallowly. Chest barely moving. He tasted blood. Something – a firm material – a belt – was forced into his mouth. His tongue tried to push it out weakly. Hands held him down. Panic coursed through him. It hurts. Please. It hurts so much. He thrashed – his screams muffled. No one could survive this. Help me. Why won’t you help me? Distress poured off him in waves.

Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood.

He opened his eyes, half lidded but insensate. Awake but not truly aware. People wove in and out of focus. Maesters. Why am I surrounded by grey rats. Don’t touch me. Do not touch me. Away. Keep your filthy hands off of me. Fuckers. Go away. He tried to growl, the sound muffled, struggling to escape their painful hands.

He was being tortured. Why were they hurting him. Why are you hurting me? What had he done? Had he committed treason? Had Rhaenyra ordered his death? Was his father dead? Had the painful end finally come for them? What of my pups? Please, what of my children… Have mercy. Are they safe?

He felt as though every nerve ending he had was exposed. He felt as if he were being flayed – his skin being pulled away layer by layer. Strip by strip. As if he was being burned alive. Fire licking at the very essence of him. A sharp stab, another. A blade must have surely burrowed itself into his body, into his belly, between his legs – carving him open like they had Queen Aemma. Have they gelded me? Am I dying? Why are they carving me open? Tears slid down his temples. Let it end. Grant me mercy. Balerion, god of death, please claim me. Let my suffering stop. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood.  He gasped trying to pray for deliverance. Yet all he tasted was leather, copper and salt. The dragon must have three heads. A song of Ice and Fire. I am burning.

His consciousness wavered with each wave of fever that coursed through his body. Oblivion finally claimed him.

Small soft sounds dragged him back to a half aware state. He felt fevered. Was he sick? How much time had passed? Where am I? Trying to make sense of his situation. Sharp bursts of pain erupted throughout his body as he tried to move. His joints ached fiercely. He flexed his fingers. The tips were sore and he realized even they were bandaged. Had he fallen off of Sunfyre – or his horse? Why do I ache. Is it the Winter Fever? I am burning. He groaned. A strong scent enveloped him. Safety. He breathed in slowly. It smelled so good. He calmed down  bit by bit and tried to force himself to remain alert. It proved to be surprisingly difficult. What is happening?

“- fever will hopefully abate soon, my Prince. Prince Aegon will then have a small window of calm before the final change is upon him. He will need it to gather his strength. The last fever will be the worst of it.” Is that a grey rat? The last fever?

“Worse than this? Have you seen him? Heard him?” Aemond’s voice was laced with outrage. Such emotion, brother, for me?

“The prince is old for a male omega to present. His body is strained, my Prince. The older one is when undergoing the change, the more likely it is they will not surv – ”

Before oblivion claimed him once more. One word reverberated. Omega.

A lovely heady scent tickled his nose. It was comforting, like a moment of calm during the raging storm. His nose twitched. The scent grew heavier still. He let out a pleased hum. Someone kissed his brow.

Aemond?

“I am here, brother.” Aegon hummed at the response – purred, then he frowned.

Whispers. There were so many whispers. What were they saying? Gods his body ached, racked with fever and suddenly he felt chilled where before he only burned. Another presence lingered in the corner of the room – even with his eyes closed – Aegon knew. He gasped in panic, pain coiling up his limbs preparing to strike.

“It is only us, brother, it is your fever making you imagine things. Rest, Aegon, you need your strength.” That scent tried to entice him into being calm. His scent glands ached.

Whispers.

“No one is speaking, brother, there is no one here.”

No. No that could not be true. Are we dead. I don’t want you to be dead. So many whispers. I think I hear him calling for me, Balerion and the whispers of the dead.

A sudden acrid scent assaulted him. He gagged at the very taste of it. Terror permeated the room. Aegon couldn’t breathe. I can’t breathe. Why isn’t anyone helping me. Do you want me to die? Why is only Balerion standing vigil? Aegon breathed shallowly. Perhaps only the God of Death existed for Aegon now – waiting for the obvious conclusion of this wretched existence.

“Aegon. I am here, bother, I am vigilant.” His brother’s voice was tortured, almost broken. He felt a tender hand take his own – the grip surprisingly strong despite its gentleness – grounding him. “There is but one thing we say to the God of Death, Aegon, only one thing.”

Aegon’s mind raced. Then the answer came to him. Not today.

Oblivion claimed him once more. Balerion’s fingers reaching for him also, just missing him, he was just outside his grasp.

Sweet, pure scents. Unadulterated happiness filled him to the brim. He imagined it poured out of him, filling the room if he could, for surely it couldn’t be contained in his body. It even almost drowned out the pain addling him, almost – but he could ignore that for the sake of those sweet scents. He could. He would. If only he could open his eyes. How much time has passed?

Different scents of milk and innocence surrounded him. So alike yet diverse. But he knew it deep down inside his core who they belonged to.

A hint of vanilla. Jaehaerys. My sweet boy. You don’t have to be anything you don’t want to be. Challenge or not, no one will hurt you as they have me. Your sweet nature will be another triumph for our House. Not its downfall.

A hint of orange blossoms in full bloom. Jaehaera. A Queen for time, you could have been, better to be alive to become a woman grown yourself – dreaming dragon dreams – covered in crowns of flowers and not gold.

A hint of the smell of the air before a thunderstorm. Maelor. They would have ripped you to shreds in truth as they have ripped me to shreds even now. My poor boy. I would see you hale and whole.

“Kepa, I love you. When will you wake up?”

He needed to fight. My poor pups. He could not leave them alone in this cruel and harsh world.

He felt Balerion standing at edge of his bed. A silent sentry. The whispers were gone though. And still, it felt as if the god was sad. Aegon whimpered. Tears dripped down his temples.

“Hush Aegon, take comfort in your children.”

Balerion’s voice did sound sad. He somehow felt different then the God from before. 

“And me…” The god whispered shamefully, as if admitting to a sin. Were Gods subjected to sin like mortal men? Balerion? Aemond?

Oblivion was a welcome embrace.

Fever muddled his brain. Have I been screaming? He opened his eyes. A haggard Aemond came into view. Aemond looked awful, but he gave Aegon a hopeful smile that wavered as Aegon lay there unresponsive – shivering in fever. But Aegon was somewhat aware, his eyes trailing over his brother’s face. He wasn’t wearing the eyepatch – the sapphire suited his brother but the dark circles underneath his eyes – real or bejeweled – held the hint of the same blue. His brother looked as if he hadn’t slept in days, pale and hair in a braid but not neat as he normally wore it. Wisps of hair had escaped the braid as well as at Aemond’s temple – as if he had tried to run his fingers through his own hair and failed on account of the braid, loosening the hair.

“I have sent for Daeron.”

Aegon blinked at Aemond. My pup. He tried to speak the words. He didn’t think he succeeded.

“He is coming, Aegon.”

They took him from me. My first pup. I mustn’t name him thus. Valonqar it must be

Sad realization spread across Aemond’s face. Why are you sad, brother?

“He is coming, Aegon. He will be here soon, I’ll bring him and the children to see you when… when the fevers permit.”

I cannot lose my children. They will be killed. They will be put to the sword or the flame. Challenges, all of them. My poor children, they are innocent. They did not ask to be born. Just as I did not ask to be born either. And my siblings, no, please.  Helaena. Aemond. Daeron. He whined in distress – the sound escaping him without permission – his scent flaring.  My first pup. No! Valonqar. Valonqar. Valonqar it must be.

He couldn’t see them be killed in his stead.

Kill me. Fire and Blood. Just, kill me. Fire and Blood. Fucking just kill me and be done with it. Fire and Blood.

If the dragon must have three heads, cut mine off. Let them be safe. My siblings. My children. They can be three-headed dragons without me. I just want to keep them safe.

“We are safe, brother.” Aemond’s voice was tired. “You presenting omega will surely have made it so. The fever will not take you. I will not let it. You have saved us all, Aegon, rest.”

Oh, this was to be a kind dream then.

“Sleep. I will keep you safe as you have done us.”

Slumber claimed him, filled with dreams and a hint of a dragon’s song entwining with a Winter rose.

Fire and Blood. The dragon must always have three heads. Fire and Blood.

“ – court, they will try to make him choose Prince Jacaerys as the next King.” Grandsire. Cunt.

“Rhaenyra has accused him of seducing Daemon away from her.” Mother. Also, a cunt. Where were they? His brother, his sister. His pups. Aemond promised him his pups. I want my children by my side.

“ – choose for him, they can’t do that.” Helaena. Sweet, sweet sister. He tried to scent the air. He wondered what she smelled like. Did betas have a singular smell? He couldn’t remember if he ever asked Aemond. Perhaps, he had been too ashamed to ask about his own unpresented scent. Still, when he tried – all he scented was anger – rage – fear. He coughed, choking. A hint of metal placed against his lips, and he instinctively drank milk of the poppy deeply down. No.

“- forced bondings are illegal. Omegas are sacred. And the Omega Royal can be King if male. He need not choose Jacaerys or worse, Daemon.” Aemond. Fighting for me brother. Why do you have to though? Am I not the Omega Royal?

“- all know they will try everything in their arsenal to grasp control and power. We cannot let that happen. Be it by force or seduction.” Otto can be such a hypocrite. Aegon thought idly. Like he had not done the very same – even put his young beta daughter underneath a King. All for power. I was born a mere six months after mother marrying Viserys. Sanctimonious hypocritical cunts. The could all count, could they not?

“He is to be king in his own right, not take part in these vile perversions.” Of course mother would be extreme even in this. House Hightower did not approve of men laying with men, even if custom and law permitted – even encouraged male omega’s to mate alpha men. Take your precious Seven and choke on them. I am of old Valyria.

“At least Prince Daemon is arguing ardently for our brother to have a choice…” Aemond sounded begrudged but grateful. Caraxes was a true dragon. God of the sea. Perhaps it was fate Daemon had two daughters, born of a union of the sky and the sea several times over.

“- be a trap -”

It all started to muddle.

“- Valyrian culture “

It all started to blur.

“ – important, won’t betray the sacred –”

Everything went dark.

Aegon’s eyes opened – gritty and the light felt as if daggers were being stabbed into his very eyes. Note to self, don’t make that comparison to Aemond. What in the Seven Hells happened.  He ached and was still fevered. He felt he might die.

“Have I been poisoned, what happened?” He ground out. A cup came into view and was placed at his lips. He whined.

“It is merely water, brother.” Helaena’s caring voice could only be trusted. He drank deeply. His throat was parched. Helaena’s sweet round face come into view. She had such kind eyes. There was something important he wanted, needed, to ask her – but he forgot what it was and dozed restlessly for a while. 

He sank into his pillows more deeply. A shiver addled his body. Sweat dripped down his temples. Had he been crying before? Why? Aegon sighed and closed his eyes. Some time silently passed and he lay there slowly inching back to the sweet release of sleep. And then, a blessed cold wet cloth dabbing at his forehead, forced him into opening his eyes once more. My sweet sister, with her ever kind hands.

“Helaena.” He smiled though he was still in pain. It felt more manageable, at least for a time.

“Brother, I know it hurts but you will get through this – once more and then you will have bloomed omega completely.” Her tone was calm but Aegon scented acid fear upon the air. Ah, Omega, that was it. He tried to feel some pleasure at his presentation, but in truth it felt if the Stranger was seconds from embracing him. No, not the Stranger. Balerion. He shivered.

“Be at rest, regain your strength in this time of calm, your final changing fever will not take you from us then. We will make sure of it.” The terror in the air only sharpened. There was also something else there – a sour harsh scent of bitterness, he did not think his sister capable of. Was this how alphas felt, exposed to everyone’s emotions. It felt almost intimate. You cannot lie to me, sweet sister. I might very well die. You fear it so. Have you not seen it? At least then, you will be quit of me.

“Where is Aemond?” He queried instead. He wanted the security of his alpha brother. Had he not been here by his side? Why would he leave me?

Anger and bitterness poured off of Helaena in waves. It clung to the back of his tongue. It all but bordered on exalted rage. The scent of ash reigned supreme.  He would have wallowed in it, if he could. Weakened as he was, it still pleased him greatly to be affirmed so obviously that his sister was a she-dragon through and through – at least in this instance. Still, Where the fuck is Aemond?

Helaena hesitated, looking him over – analyzing the state of him – pitiful as it was. He was still alive, that was something, he supposed. Omega, at my age, it is a wonder I haven’t succumbed yet surely.

“Helaena?” He prompted. “Aemond?” He inquired again. Where the fuck is he? I need him. She bit her lip, then answered him warily – as if she knew, she was unleashing a terrible beast but did so anyway.

“At open court with mother – Rhaenyra and the others, they took initiative – to talk matters of succession.” It was admitted reluctantly, as if she knew it might not be best to be honest with him – weak and ill as he was. She tried to smile and shift his attention away from her previous words. “Daeron will be here soon. With any luck, he arrives before your final changing fever.” So I can say goodbye, you mean. Beyond that, it didn’t really register.

“I am the Omega Royal and the eldest male child of the ruling monarch besides.” He inhaled deeply, suddenly panicked. “Either I become King or in choosing a mate – I name the next one.” That was the law. “Me. I choose. It is my sacred right.”

The silence that lingered was heavy. He growled lowly. What exactly is going on, tell me.

 “Father might make a proclamation. Aemond and mother went to try and prevent it.”

“A proclamation?” He tested the word out. Something close to unmitigated rage unleashed in him and he braced himself as Helaena opened her mouth to explain. I should have fucking known. Cunts. I could very well die and still Rhaenyra would grasp to pry the crown from my fingers as I fight the changing fevers. Not a fucking lick of shame. Well, she will have to pry it out of my cold dead fingers. It is mine now to have or bestow by divine intervention.

“That you have agreed to have Jacaerys as your king and mate.” Absolutely fucking not.  He inhaled sharply though his nose. No. Just no. Fucking no. How dare they. “After, it would create great strife should you spurn him.” And in its wake, he could suddenly see it. They would all die, his siblings, his children. Haven’t I suffered enough? Bore enough shame for several lifetimes over?

Suddenly a sob escaped him. Stop it. Stop being weak. Get it together. I am a dragon. And yet, he could only cry ugly tears of despair.  I don’t want to be King necessarily but… 

“He wishes to take this from me too.” The insult of it. The shame. It all but suffocated him. Was there no end to his father’s neglect and abuse. It would never be enough. I will never be enough. They would take and take from him, until there was nothing left.

His father would rather force him to bred by the Velaryon named prince, than have Aegon have any chance at happiness – or power. They would never accept Aegon as King – nor his children by Helaena to be their heirs. He knew it then so surely, just as he had known when he was unpresented.

And even now, he had presented as the greatest gift the Gods could have bestowed upon their House – their father – and the weak cunt would force him on his back, legs spread and once again forced into intimacy with one he did not desire. What of my pups. Will Jacaerys send them away? Maybe not him, but Rhaenyra… She surely would demand Aegon give her son children of his body to rule after him – legitimate as all children born of an Omega Royal automatically were. No one to dispute their right to the throne or the crown.

If a shred of the friendship Jacaerys and he once had were left, perhaps it would not have been such a miserable fate to envision. I don’t want him as my mate – as father of any of my children – as my future King. He doesn’t deserve it. They don’t deserve it. A victory won with Aegon left to suffer and on his back. The fate of his siblings and existing children unsure and bleak. How dare they.

“I am sorry brother.” Helaena was the picture of abject misery. Tears dripped down her face. He weakly reached for her and cupped her cheek.

His little sister, they who had hurt together so much. Their farce of a marital bed. The only joy coming out of that being their children. They shared a bond he wouldn’t wish upon an enemy because of it. Panic coursed through him. What if Jacaerys forced her too? Would mateship mean his marriage to Helaena would be terminated? His mother would just force her under another man if so. He knew it. Helaena would not survive that. She would throw herself from the highest tower of the Keep. My poor sister.

And if their marriage wasn’t dissolved… He did not think his nephew capable of rape – but, even concerning him, would it not be that? No. Enough. I am the Omega Royal. I am not going to let them steal anything else from me – from us. I will stop them at any cost. I am the one chosen by the Gods. I will decide. It is my sacred birthright. Mine alone. He wouldn’t let his father steal another birthright out from under him without a fight. I won’t. He bared his teeth. Let them try. I would rather die. I will do so to stop them.

“I need your help, sweet sister.” His breathing was still fevered. His final change could come at any time. It was dangerous enough as is, to consider what he intended to do next, all but insured it would be a certain death march. If I want to have any agency in my life, should I survive… Even if I do not, it will be worth it,  should I succeed. But to truly have any chance at all, I must act now, before father betrays yet me again. I don’t have time to wait. The fever had his permission to take him but he had to roar first. I will be the dragon our House needs me to be. I will save us all. True and baseborn alike. If they like it or not. We are all blood of the Dragon. Fucking cunts.  

“My sworn knight is outside. He will carry you.” She paused. “but you will have to stand before the throne for your claim to be legal.” Her voice was so very strained. “Aegon, your body – the final fever – what if it is too much and you –” Die.

“I will endure until I have made us all safe.” This is my solemn oath, sister. I will not fail you.

She carefully kissed his brow, tears dripping down her face – mingling with his own. Her fear of losing him evident in every breath he took. The air was saturated with it. Such devotion. What have I done to deserve her. I have only ever been forced to cause her tears. No more. Either way, it ends today.

Her tears tasted like salt. They tasted like absolution.

“I shall set you free, sister, and protect us. Even If it is the last thing I do.” I promise you.

“Brother.” Even if it kills me.

And if they leave me no other choice. I choose violence.

I am a dragon. And either way, the dragon would have its three heads.

Fire and Blood.

Chapter Text

 Aegon whimpered in pain. The Baratheon alpha knight carrying him looked sick and ashen. Guilt poured off of him in waves. Omegas were revered. Omegas were sacred. A gift from the gods. To see one hurt so, to actively be part of it. No wonder the burly alpha knight looked close to tears. Aegon would owe him a great debt.

 Surely, every instinct the man had, was screaming at him to act otherwise. To protect Aegon, to try and shelter him from harm. Anything to keep him from succumbing to the changing fever completely. At least some people have their priorities straight. Fucking cunts. I wouldn’t be in this situation if this fucking family had an single ounce of decency left.  He took another agonizing gasp and bit down on his lip to try and hide it. He knew it was no use. His own scent must be awash with all of his fear and pain. Further to his credit, Durran Baratheon held him gently but firmly, rumbling soothingly at Aegon as the throne room doors came into view. He tried to talke comfort, but it was taking everything he had to not start crying again. No. I can’t show even more weakness. Any hint and they try to use it against me. The rumbling his the Baratheon alpha grew louder. The agony lessened a bit. Thank you. I am sorry for forcing this on you. What he and Helaena has asked of him – it took a strong, moral alpha indeed to go against his very nature.  All for me. I will not forget this boon.

“We are here, my Prince, I am so sorry. Forgive me.” His voice was filled with gravel in perceived shame. He put Aegon on his feet caringly, bracing him until his knees stopped shaking.  

“It is I who must ask for your forgiveness.” He placed a hand on the alpha’s chest in gratitude and for balance. He tried to ignore the fact that he was trembling fiercely. “No. Thank you, Durran. I owe you a great debt.”

The man slowly took his hand and placed a thoughtful, respectful kiss to the back of it – as he braced Aegon with his other arm. Kind hands, soft kisses. It seemed so easy for this man, this virtual stranger, to bestow it upon me. With true reverence.  So why can’t mother? His father? Cunts the lot of them. Obviously.

“I will always be in your service, you are omega, beloved by all.” Apparently not. His distress made the alpha omit a mournful sound. “You are the Omega Royal. I will be your Shield should you ever have need of me. I would never falter in your defense. I will always support you and yours. I will be ever faithful.”

Aegon bit back tears. “My Shield you will be. Blessed be, you and those of your line. They will always be welcome to break bread with mine.” The steward at the doors gasped. Durran Baratheon’s eyes went wide. It was a kingly gift to bestow upon anyone, to be welcome to sup with the royal family – to gift him with such an honored position, but to have it be bestowed by the Omega Royal. A great honor. A kingly gift indeed. Fitting, considering the circumstances. He deserves it. I would never have made it here otherwise. Those golden Lannister cunts aren’t the only ones to pay back their debts. And he has already proven his devotion tenfold for doing what I have demanded of him.

Aegon slowly turned to face the steward. The man looked shocked and appalled at the state of him. Yes, well, so am I. Fucking cunts. How dare they.

“Open the doors but do not announce me.” He ordered, voice wavering but determined. He would take his measure of the situation before they noticed him. Or try and stop me. Cunts. Cunts. Cunts. The lot of them. He blinked back tears of pain. Maybe not Aemond.

“I could carry you further, my prince.” Durran Baratheon offered softly. He thinks it likely  I will fail or fall. I understand but I will not. I am a Dragon. He would not be defeated. Not yet. I will persevere. I will endure. I will triumph.

“For my claim to be legal, I must be able to do it unaided – to make it clear I am doing this of my own violation.” Wasn’t that the very reason his father had all but crawled up the stairs to the Iron throne for Lucerys’ claim. For Rhaenyra. Now I will struggle too. I will not falter. By the Gods, I will crawl if I have to as well. Drag myself by the nails forward. I am of the blood of the fucking Dragon. The Omega Royal. I am a divine gift. It will be my choice, not theirs, mine. Cunts. He nodded to the steward.

The court doors opened and Aegon forced himself forward. All of the nobility present in Kingslanding was gathered there of course – watching the spectacle enfold. Vultures. He wasn’t surprised but it vexed him still. To see every possible lord and lady imaginable, high and lowborn, attend this farce. They wouldn’t want to miss out on what could only be House Targaryen’s greatest shame. To hold an open session at court, concerning the succession, when Aegon hadn’t even been formally announced – when he possibly lay dying of the changing fevers – to consider openly who would be the next monarch when it was Aegon’s sacred right. Like the law and custom wasn’t clear. Gods forbid they miss something salient to gossip about. Fuckers. I’ll give you something to speak off. It will be all anyone will talk about for days. Tongues will wag for years even, if I have anything to say about it. And I fucking do.

Still, every step he took was a fevered struggle. He wasn’t as lost to it as before, but he wasn’t well. His body preparing itself for the final changing fever. One not to be underestimated – especially as old as he was for an omegan change. Didn’t we lose the one who presented before Aegon the first did? Thirteen years old and surely not as stressed as me. No. Don’t think about that. Sweat poured down his temples. His vision was blurred. His body was weak – addled with malaise and exhaustion. He all but mentally and physically clawed his way towards the Iron Throne in sheer torture. Surely a caning would be more merciful than this. During his progression, he could see more and more of the courtiers move out of his way – clearing a direct path. Some small fucking measure of mercy. The whispers slowly died down as he passed more and more people by. And slowly they began to bow – to curtsy – a few even knelt. His fever-addled brain recognized several of them, but mostly he needed all of his concentration to keep moving. Too weary to acknowledge their respect or whose Houses they belonged to.

Westeros held omegas in high regard. And the Omega Royal was most certainly regarded as sacred. It wasn’t so strange to see them stare at Aegon with veneration. He tried to hold back pained whines. The scent around him soured. If he looked too closely, Aegon was sure there would be pity in their gazes as well as awe. He knew he looked sick – weak – close to death.

Any alpha could smell that he had not passed through his final change, no doubt. It would be clear to all beholding him that this was not the formal presentation of the Royal Omega. This is all but my Death March. A despicable but necessary power play. You all know why I must walk it.  Aegon knew they would be able to smell the sheer agony he was in. The scent of his fear and illness, spreading further and further into the room as he painstakingly advanced. This what they have reduced me to. No matter. I will wield it as my greatest weapon. Bring down the wrath of the Gods on their heads, if I must. I choose violence. Fire and Blood.

Suddenly, he stumbled slightly. He gasped for breath and blinked his eyes fiercely – fighting with everything he had to regain his balance. Durran stepped closer, ready to brace him, but Aegon shook his head. I will crawl if I have to. I will. I will not fail. No. I will not let them win. Distress must be pouring off of him in waves. Several alphas bared their teeth, their gaze flicking towards the front of the throne room, then back at him.

Many rumbled in support – to try and soothe him. Some looked sick with shame. It was clear they knew who had obligated him to do this – forced in such an abominable and dangerous position. They knew it could possible kill him. The smell of impending death thick in his personal scent. Watch and bear witness, you vultures. You wanted a show. I will give you one. This is my fucking life. It is my sacred right they wish to steal. Selfish, greedy cunts.  I will claim it even if it kills me. It is mine. And you shall all bear witness. It will be as I say and none will be able to gainsay me – even after that last fucking fever finally kills me off. Choke on that.

He gritted his teeth. One foot in front of the other. Even my pups can do that.

The scents of sorrow and respect grew steadily. It all but overwhelmed him. How the fuck does Aemond face this every day. Is it the fever that makes it so hard? They parted before him as he desperately inched towards the throne – gasping and shaking. Durran steadfast behind him should he fall. I will not. I will prevail.

He heard the sounds of his family fighting. It grew louder as he approached. Of course they are. Have they no shame? In front of all the fucking nobility? Like we have to emphasize to all how divided we truly are – weak cowards. By the fucking Fourteen Flames. If it wasn’t for the fact we have dragons, who knows which of these fucking Lords would make a bid for the throne. Can they not see them circle the Keep, waiting for any opening to grasp at anything they could take.  

Finally he could see members of his family begin to appear through the courtiers watching them debate with bated breath at the front. Not all had seen him, so they remained between him and the Throne. Out of the fucking way. He rounded a Lannister who frowned at him before seeing who passed him. The blonde alpha sniffed him and flexed his scent towards Aegon. He all but gagged on it. Desire? Or is it lust? He bared his teeth. Not for all the gold in your mines, power hungry mongrel. Keep your rotten, filthy scent away. The Lannister alpha quickly moved back. You can run, but you cannot hide. Ingrate. I’ll have Aemond beat you bloody for the insult, see that I won’t. He shook his head. Focus. Focus. Focus. He looked towards the throne. A green dress wove into sight behind the courtiers. Mother.          

“I proclaim here now before you all, that Prince Aegon has not chosen Prince Jacaerys. He will rule in his own right and not partake in any such perversions.” Perversions. He all but snorted in hysteria. Hightower zealots and hypocrites. If uncle Gwayne had presented omega, it would have been him under father instead of mother. No matter they preach and practice the most extreme form of the Seven. Even the High Septon approved of male omegas bedding male alphas. Of course, he also likes to get his cock wet. Whores liked to get paid. Secrets or carnal acts, it matters not. Hypocrisy thy name is religious leadership. Or Hightower.

“Alicent…” His coward of a father faltered but Aegon knew it wasn’t for his benefit. The King might sound weak, but he would still clearly fuck Aegon over. I know what you plan to do. I will not let you disrespect me so. Not again. Cunt. Why must you force me to such extremes. Have you no shred of paternal affection for me. I don’t even expect it to be close to love. Just something. Tears threatened to fall. No. No weakness. They are all vultures, waiting to strike. He would not give them a target.

“He might still die. To present so late. Is it really such a divine gift? Perhaps the Gods always intended for him to die.” Rhaenyra. Cunt. Gasps echoed around the throne room at the blatant insult. To question the Gods’ will, be they old or new. To angle for my possible death. You are only digging a deeper grave, sister.  

“Rhaenyra!” Daemon growled loudly, clearly displeased.

“It would be a mercy. Gevie as he is to you, apparently.” Aegon heard further growling, displeased alpha courtiers angered at her words as well. Yet, there was one he desperately needed to see. Surely one of those growls were his… Where the fuck is he? Move, you vultures.

“Seven Hells, Rhaenyra. The boy will not choose Daemon, he does not seek to create a rift in your marriage. Stop finding slights where there are none.” Rhaenys replied harshly. Daemon? Has Rhaenyra finally gone completely mad? Just because she likes bedding an enraged dragon. He paused. Well, if things were different. In truth, the idea could have held some appeal. Objectively, Daemon Targaryen was a handsome alpha Dragon. Trueborn, hard muscles, a good sire to his two pups by Rhaenyra from what I have seen and… No. Absolutely not. No. This final fucking fever is killing me. It hasn’t set in completely yet and I’m already going mad myself. I am not spreading my legs for uncle Daemon or Jacaerys. Just, no.  

“Before the Seven and his Holiness the High Septon, you shall not force my son into marriage with any of your children.” Children? Are we considering Lucerys and Joffrey now as well. Perhaps they would offer little Aegon up next. The fucking depravity. The High Septon looked solemn as he stood next to his mother, hands devoutly clasped before him – clutching the Book of the Seven to his chest. I know what you like to do to young beta girls, your Holiness. I know all about your mistresses and three children. Hidden away, but I know. Whores know many secrets and they have told me all of yours. Pervert.

“As King, I agree, it would be a strong match.” Cunt. Cunt. Cunt.

“I could still be queen.” Of course even now you seek to sit the throne, even at the expense of your beloved son apparently. No fucking shame.

“Mother!” At least Jacaerys sound appalled.

“They could succeed me. Surely we must see if Aegon is capable of giving Jacaerys heirs first – childbirth can be dangerous for omegas as well and with this late presentation.” I have not even passed my changing fever and my fertility already put into question. Lovely. Absolutely not. I am not squeezing any children out for Jacaerys.

“The law is clear.” Daemon snarled. I have been reduced to having a madman defend me. The insanity of it all galled him. “The Omega Royal if male can technically become King but more likely chooses a Targaryen mate – who automatically becomes the next monarch upon the death of the previous one.” Daemon sounded close to screaming. Do you regret marrying her yet, uncle? Surely no throne would be worth it?  “Prince Aegon either becomes the King or he anoints the next one – sealed by a mating bite. He decides. It is his birthright, sacred and divine. The matter of succession lies solely at his feet.” Well, perhaps having a madman defend me has its perks. “I will not have you deprive him of his choice. He is fighting the fevers and you disregard him so? I will not stand for it!”

Aegon finally spotted the older alpha. Definitely an enraged dragon. It was known that Daemon was well versed in their lore and history. It would stand to reason that he had great respect and awe for an omega – the Omega Royal at that . He has always upheld their Valyrian customs with a great deal of reverence. A priest of the faith of Old Valyria – though not as hypocritical as some – Perverted Holy Cunt of the Seven.

He must have finally moved into Daemon’s line of sight. The alpha locked shocked eyes with him, his gaze quickly flicking over his body. The man’s lips pursed, but surprisingly said nothing to alert his other family members to his presence. But from the look in his eyes, he was not pleased to see Aegon there – weak and not yet completely changed. Aegon shook his head. I must. They will leave me no quarter, uncle.  I am a dragon. I will not die before I accomplish what I have set out to do. Daemon looked resigned. He gave Aegon a solemn nod. He looks sad but respectful, strange to see such for me coming from a man such as that.

Aegon took another step and finally saw the person he wanted. Aemond. He choked back a pained whimper but the sound must have reached his brother either way. Aemond’s furious’ glare, that had been focused on the throne, settled on him. His brother’s eye widened in shock. Without any apparent thought Aemond stalked toward him. Yes. Help me. I need you. Against his own conviction and will not to appear weak, Aegon still collapsed against his brother’s chest the moment Aemond reached him – arms immediately encircling him – pulling him close as he braced Aegon with gentle strength and support. Finally. Fucking finally. The protective hug provided him with an unsurmountable sense of relief. Where were you, asshole? You weren’t there. I needed you there. You said you would keep me safe. So fucking keep me safe.  Aegon hid his face in the cape that smelled like shelter – to hide shameful tears of relief. Inhaling deeply, he kept scenting Aemond over and over again to try and calm himself down. He knew he wasn’t thinking rationally. Fuck you. I need for you to be beside me. Not them. Those absolute cunts. You belong next to me.

“Brother, what –” Disbelief poured out off of Aemond. He tried to pull back, but Aegon whined in distress. No. Hold me. Aemond stilled and Aegon scented him some more. Safety. “Aegon, you are not well, I will defend your claim.” Gentle hands moved in comforting circles over every part of Aegon’s body his brother could reach. “Worry not, I will not let them take this from you.” A bitter note of anger tinged his voice.

It gave him the strength he needed to draw back himself – his body trembling still. Aemond’s hands  swiftly settled on his hips to steady him. He looked up at his little brother, worry lining his face clear to see. My tall, fierce dragonbrother. He weakly cupped Aemond’s face. Determination and conviction settling deep into his very bones. I will make it right. And then there will be nothing they can do to change it. “No, valonqar, I will not let them take this from us – from you.” Aemond stared at him in confusion.  

“He needs to proclaim his king, be mated and wed and that is that. We all know that Aegon has no sense for duty.” The king spoke decisively. Aegon turned to look at his father. Do we? Cunt. Courtiers that had moved out of Aemond’s way had cleared an open path between them and the throne.

“Jacaerys will be a strong King.” Gods help me. Strong indeed but not King, father. “I know there has been a longstanding intent to betroth Jacaerys and Baela. Perhaps, in time, she might take the role of second Queen. Helaena’s marriage will be dissolved, of course. His Holiness has already conferred that the polygamy will be an issue, they certainly will not suffer three Queens.” Absolute fuckers. Well, no matter. The dragon will have three heads, but it will need never suffer three Queens.

“I stand before the Iron Throne.” He called out.

And finally, his entire family turned to look at them. He twisted in Aemond’s grasp, his back to his little brother’s front – hands still on Aegon’s hips for balance. Hold me up. I will make them choke on their grasping greed for the crown. Fire and fucking Blood.

Viserys’ mouth dropped open then he broadly smiled at Aegon as he had never done before. It was unnerving. He figured Aemond felt much of the same, because his grip tightened. I know, brother. Cunts, the lot of him, but father perhaps one of the worst.

“My child, my Omega Royal.” Of course that is the only thing you care for. I am not your Omega Royal. Before, you were speaking of whipping and caning your sons. Disgusted and wrathful at your Rhaenyra’s behest. I have not forgotten any of it. An entire lifetime of this shit. Cunt. “Has the final fever left you hale and whole?” Joy radiated out of the King and all Aegon felt was defeat and rage. It left a bitter aftertaste in his mouth.

“No.”

“No?” Viserys looked confused. I bet you are.

“No it has not, I am before my last change.” Balerion yet lingers.

“But my precious child, why are you here? Why put yourself in such danger?” You forced me here. You and your whore daughter.

“Yes, brother, you could still die.” Hope colored his sister’s words. Spiteful serpent. She is not worthy of the title of dragon.  

“Rhaenyra!” Princess Rhaenys hissed, outraged “To wish death upon an Omega, the Omega Royal, have you no shame left?” She never had any to begin with.

“I stand before the Iron Throne, your Grace.” Mother stepped closer into view beside his father. A Green beacon of spite herself. She looked proud. That won’t last long. “To claim my sacred birthright.” Whispers erupted around court. Vultures. “To proclaim for all gathered here, noble and lowborn as well as holy, my choice for the next King.” And they would not be able to use the Faith to try and gainsay me. The pervert has a front row seat. He locked malicious eyes with a rapidly paling Rhaenyra. Oh yes. I hope you choke on my choice. Bitch. “Prince Aemond Targaryen, first of his name.”

Aemond’s hands tightened around his hips in shock. Without breaking eye contact with his outraged elder sister, he rested all his weight against his brother’s chest. Aemond’s arms came up to encircle his waist in instinct   – to keep him from falling. He slowly tilted his head to the side. I have named the future King. And you will all bow to him.

“Claim me valonqar.” A pleased growl rumbled in his ear, as Aemond immediately nuzzled at his scent gland. Aegon shivered. “Once bitten, they can never take it from you, even should I die.” Aemond’s hold tightened and a scent of fear arose.

“Jaehaerys and Maelor will be your heirs should you have no male issue. Jaehaera, theirs.” His vision began to darken once more. You have to bite.

“Daeron after her.” I will not let it all have been in vain.

 “Rhaenyra after him.” It will never come to be. I have pushed you so far down the line, you will never sit the throne.

“Her children after her.” And there will be no more infighting. Not even you will make me change my mind, Aemond.

“All children born of her body now claimed as Targaryen princes of the realm, to be legitimate heirs they are bestowed their mother’s name instead of their sire.” There shall be no more talk of bastardry. A displeased rumble. I do not fucking care. We are dragons. You will need a united House.

 “And should calamity or, Gods forbid, kinslaying befall our House. The crown shall fall to Prince Daemon and his issue born of the Lady Laena Velaryon.” It is done. “Princess Rhaenys after them.” Everyone in this fucking family knows their place.

He shivered. “The succession is secured. By the Gods’ divine intervention, all of you witness to my will.”

“And what if you bear children of your own body – sired by Aemond?” Rhaenys prompted as the room erupted in affirmation. Really. Not a moment has passed.

So witnessed. By the will of the Gods. Witnessed. So witnessed. Aemond, future King, first of his name. Lords and Ladies murmured some form of acknowledgement, some pleased, many surprised.

He frowned in irritation at Rhaenys. Aemond rumbled, trying to soothe him. Who else would sire them, if we choose to have them? He felt soft lips brush against his neck. Good.

“Any child I bear the next King, would be his direct heir, coming before the stated succession.” Aemond rumbled pleased. A hint tongue teased at his scent glands. “It would be their birthright as a child of the King and the Omega Royal.” Aemond let a small purr.

“And your other children?” Daemon asked. Gods be good. Have I not made it exceedingly clear.  Fuckers.

“It is the male issue of the King that sits the throne after him. His female issue if he has no sons. It is only normal that a child of the King’s direct bloodline inherits the throne if he has them. My older children with Helaena would not usurp the rightful heir. They will be siblings either way, I will raise them accordingly. And should the final fever take me, Aemond could choose to take another to wed. In that case, it would be their heirs to sit the throne – as trueborn issue of the King.”

“So witnessed.” Rhaenys spoke quickly.

“By the will of the Valyrian Gods, so witnessed.” Daemon answered just as swiftly.

Mad the lot of them. He tried to entice Aemond by baring his neck further.

“Now bite.”

His brother’s arms tensed further around him. Where he had been pleased before, Aemond now radiated with hesitation and fear. Do you not wish to bite me? Or is the burden of Kingship?

“Aegon, biting you will surely aggravate the fever…” Oh. It is worry on my behalf. Oh brother. He tilted his head sideways, neck still bared but meeting Aemond’s eye – terror clearly lining his face. I am sorry they put us in this position, little brother, but at last, I will have kept you all safe. Even if it means...  

“Aemond, I have not walked to all but sure death, Balerion on my heels whispering words of welcome, to fail now in my quest.” Acrid scent of fear enveloped him but Aegon persisted.

 “If you do not bite me now, Rhaenyra might have me killed.” He whispered low – meant for Aemond’s ears only. We are not safe until you mate me. Do not underestimate her.  “Or you. This is our only chance.” A waft of panic and a hint of rage. “She will try to force Jacaerys to bite me in your stead.” The taste of ash burned his throat. Such wrath his brother was capable of. A true dragon. “Do not let them. You know she will never stop trying to take our birthright as long as she has hope.” Pure unadulterated rage.  “I might still die during the final change and then war will most certainly be upon you. Now seal it with your bite and claim me. And become the heir to the throne, my future King.” Aegon tilted his head further, baring the line of his neck, scent gland prettily displayed.

A growl, followed by sharp teeth burrowing into his neck. Yes. It is done.  He gasped. And vision blurred once more. Another gasp. His knees buckled. A pained moan. His strength completely gone. Lowered to the ground, held half against a body. Half of him lay on cold tiles, leeching the heat of fever from him. Tears fell down upon his face. Aemond weaving in and out of view. Was that Rhaenys screaming for the maesters. Daemon’s face appeared behind Aemond’s.

“Don’t cry my King.”

Aemond was speaking but Aegon could not quite hear the words.

“You will be a great King, the first of your name. I wish I could have seen it for myself.” It hurts. What is happening. Aegon blinked slowly.

“I know because I have already seen it in a dream.” He spoke sluggishly. I have to reassure him before… He tried to ignore Balerion whispering into his ears.

 “A great dragonking. A boon for House Targaryen.” Aemond Targaryen, first of his name. A crown lowered unto his regal head.

“Do not listen to green towers, valonqar.” He had seen it, in a dream. Vultures circling the dragons, tearing them apart.

“They would offer you a cup of poison.” Aemond crying, face buried in his hands.

“Clip our dragons wings – to never again take to the skies.” A glimpse of Arrax, ruler of Gods, father of dragonriders.

Rhaenys and Daemon were kneeling beside them now. He tried to smile.

“We are of Old Valyria.” Rhaenys took his hand. Soft. Kind. Aemond’s hold tightened around him in suspicion. Trust them at least, to help our House. You cannot do it all alone. It will drive you mad. He gasped in pain. A glimpse of a stern-faced Aemond sitting the throne, unaided.

“Let Caraxas and Meleys help guide the Dragon’s path and then Aegon’s dream will be…” He gritted out. The taste of copper exploded in his mouth. “Aegon’s dream, Aemond, the dream. ”

“-gon, don’t you do this to me!”

Whispers grew louder.

“Balerion, nyke gīmigon valar morghūlis.” Balerion, I know all men must die.

“Pōnta dohaeris, kesi – hēnkirī, gaomagon daor henujagon nyke lēkia!” Panic clear in Aemond’s voice. They must serve, we will – together, do not leave me brother. Aegon whined. His strength was spent. Let the fever take him. “Aegon, you say not today. You tell Balerion, not today. You fight for what is your divine right.”

“Aegon’s dream…”

“I do not care for your dreams, Aegon, stay here. With me. Do not dream.” A clear order. He will be a righteous King.

“It is not his dream, Aemond, he speaks of Aegon the first.”

“Caraxes…” He breathed in shallowly. “Vhagar…”

“Zaldrītsos, please, do not tax your strength.” Am I only a little dragon? Is that why the fever burns me so.

“Kepa…”

Daemon  leaned in closer and words left his mouth without true thought or reason, like a memory formed backwards insisting on being heard.

“Do not fly the gods eye with wrath in your heart, for there I have seen you both fall – dead riders on dead wings. In my own dream, where dragons danced in the sky – we all die.” He was shivering. Why am I cold if I am burning in fever. Like Fire and Ice locked in a dance. “We need a Dragon to be King for any of us to survive.” Caraxes looked grim. A true dragon. “A true Dragon must sit the throne, for Westeros to live. The dragon must have three heads. I have seen it. Aegon’s dream.”

His vision blackened.

“The gods are whispering such dreams. Balerion, we must tell them… tell them of the dream. Is there still time?” Aegon asked heartbreakingly – then everything turned completely dark and he slackened.

Chapter Text

The fever was raging.

Aegon gasped wetly. Am I screaming?

He was burning once again. He was lost to endless dreams. The paths spinning, searching for a way to prevail, creeping ever closer. A dream inside a dream inside a dream. Until there was nothing but dreaming left.

The sea rolled with tidal waves and currents, and he was set adrift. The Merling King and sirens gathered, to sing a song of death, tales of sailors lured deep down into the watery depths.  The sky raged with ominous storming clouds. Dragons roared unseen. Hidden by the violence of lightning and the screaming thunder – flashing and rumbling of the pending threat. If a great battle raged there. No victors would be left.

The ground trembled as cities crumbled. Blades crossed spears and maces.  A field of soldiers dead. A fire raging Black, a fire raging Red. An eruption of green, Kingslanding bathed in flame.

A great volcano erupted fire – not even dragons escaped its bane. Hubris rained down fiery destruction on all those who had not left. Aegon wheezed in desperation.

Fourteen gods wove into manlike form. Wrathful, kind and just yet vengeful. Divine majesty radiated from them, though they differed in appearance. One wearing a crown, with dragons held inside his palms while his breath blew life into their riders.

A woman, possessing both horns and tail, swept him in her arms. He burned. He screamed. He dreamed. The dreams. The dreams she whispered in his ears – so terrible – so vast – past, present, future. They flashed before his mind’s eye. 

A three headed dragon weeping, once lost to the same fevers and the same dreaming, finally stood and sat the throne. Swords plunged in dragonfire across a field of gold. Secrets coiled together. A dagger in the fire bathed.  A tale of birth and death. A true King of Winter kneeling. An all-seeing raven flying high. A tangled web yet to be woven. The current tapestry already intertwined with ragged threads.  Music haunting, joyful next. A garden blooming roses blue, a crown upon a throne of snow – a dragonwolf – a savior.

Were there still dragons left?

A cup of poison to his lips, a blade his belly split. The fire in his eggs snuffed out. Visions of another dragon perilously bleeding, a belly burst not split. A Hand of green remade into a Fist. Another belly bleeding. A falcon falling, screaming. A lone hatched egg was cracked while blades were drawn across an empty nest. A mermaid caught inside the nets. Vhagar and Balerion singing a song of welcome for a daughter of old Valyria and an unhatched egg. No blade or poison further touched her in their halls. Revered and sacred. Waiting for a brother who still drew breath.

Dragon killing dragon, beast and man alike. A wingless throne was left. A precocious boy so radiant in laughter, reduced to miserable isolation, secluded and depressed. Aegon cried and cried. Was there to be no mercy?

The Goddess kissed his brow, speaking to him in whispers – the dreaming slowly dying down.

His eyes opened awash with tears. Aemond.

His brother came into his view.

He closed his eyes. Help me. Please. I cannot bear it.

The woman whispered more visions in his ear. The flashes slowly turning. He knew her then by name. Tessarion the name she favored. And prophecies her domain. The fever ravaged him further. His body only knew pain. His mind assaulted. He could not remember what it was she wanted. She whispered more clearly of things unholy – a sacred crusade his ancestor had undertaken – to keep the world alive. The dead were walking slowly. An army of the Night. A warning bell clung loudly. A change his choice had made. Still danger lay ready to wrench a death march victory from their grasp. Vipers of colours different, all lay waiting in the grass. A light house stood ablaze with a Green lantern lit,  for ships sailing trident flags. An egg stolen away as another had to flee. A dragon drowning in the sea. Arrows piercing its rider.

A dragon grew three heads, the end of days averted. A sole dragon mourned – abandoned by all its kin’s death, no mate left to entice. A line of dragons all but ended. The King of Death and everlasting Winter would stand victorious. The promise that was made then would be a promise broken. It all held in the balance of the dreams he dreamt. The coin had not landed yet. 

Aegon inhaled. He burned. I am a dragon.

Awareness and pain slowly crept up on him. The whispers of his dreams still haunting him. There are warnings to be made. Tessarion spoke into his ear. She then disappeared, but still he heard her godly voice yet. Your choice only the first step taken. Take action and stand as one. Three heads a dragon has to have for the War of the Dawn to be won.

His eyes slit open slowly, seeing but not quite aware. His head slumped sideways. He saw but could not truly see. Yet still he knew those holding vigil. He blinked. A Goddess continued in her instructions.

Words of caution must be spoken. Divine knowledge, gifted to you for a hallowed purpose. Every Omega Dreamer of Old Valeria has a sacred fate. 

His father, Daemon, Aemond, Rhaenys all sat beside him. Aegon struggled to breathe.

I will try.

Whisper of your dreams, dragonrider. For they are plenty and bountiful.

A maester passed his view. “He is dragon dreaming, your Grace, not uncommon during and after a Targaryen omega’s presentation. Aegon the conqueror experienced much the same. The scriptures say it is the reason, he sought the kingship – not a likely goal for an omega. It is written that he dreamed of such horror, a vision so terrible, that the Gods wished for him to ascend the throne to help prevent it.”

Aegon remained half unseeing yet his dreams rang clear from the edges of his consciousness.

Speak the words that must be spoken.

“From my line comes the prince that was promised.”

The King and Daemon turned sharply to Aegon. Daemon leaned in. Aegon didn’t react. His father’s hands trembled in wonder as they touched his shoulder.

“By the Gods. Aegon’s dream.”

“Thrust the dagger in the flame for my legacy to bleed true.” An ancestor sitting the throne, his wives two sentries beside it. A dagger in the brazier with Valyrian writings.

“Is he…” The King sounded shaken.

“Dragon dreams can be visions of the past, present and future. They can also be memories of past or future Targaryens, your Grace. Fear not, we are writing every word he utters down.”

“But he speaks as if he is Aegon the Conqueror himself.”

A weeping Omega Dreamer, their precious brother, held between two alpha sister wives, their heads silver and gold – true Dragons protecting their most priceless hoard. One would be plucked out of the sky – an omega and alpha rage that followed so wrathful the sun bled red as dragonfire scorched sandy dunes.

“Visenya, Rhaenys. It is a sad song, I hear, in my wretched dreams. I do not want our world to die. Not a second Valyria. All their dragons died too. Help me save this new world, sisters, alphas, wives. A throne of swords it must be. A dance of dragons decides the fate of the world. They must live or the pact – a song – of Ice and Fire will end on a sad note.”

“Don’t speak, brother, you are influencing his dreams. We do not know how dangerous that could be. Let the dreams come as the Gods decide.” Daemon replied sharply.

There was a moment of silence.

Gods and woven faiths. Broken oaths and vile acts of hate and greed.

“Threads of green, threads of black – there is no way back. A rotten tapestry. Beware the Tower and the butterfly. A burst belly and poisoned wives. A gift from the Gods must make it right. Unburned, a true dragon he will be, even with all the towers and plots of treason in his tree. The blood of the Dragon, born from his womb such a promised child, from the line of Kings, will eventually come to be. ” Aegon sobbed, clarity seeping in further – yet still not released from his dreams. “Tessarion, please, be a merciful God. Balerion beckons me still. Is it not enough? I am so very tired.” He pleaded. Aemond’s voice called for him in the distance.

A warning must be made. Implacable. Aegon drew in sharp breath after sharp breath.

“Perhaps you should heed your own words, brother.”

“Enough, can you not see he is suffering, lost to his dreams and the fever.” Aemond spoke in a wet voice. Was his brother weeping? A dragon true and fierce.

“Vhagar? Why do you mourn still so? A proper dragonrider’s death for a daughter of skies and the seas… Not the hidden poison or the blades – not one but two children of Valeria by your fire were set free and welcomed into our hallowed Halls. ”

Rhaenys gasped her daughter’s name. Laena. Daemon spoke, an unsure tone to his voice – almost trembling –  hinting at beginning rage. “Why … why does he speak of poison?” A brother mourning his sister – wading in the sea – a husband clutching three children – seed does not a true sire make.

“Smoke of the sea, still waits while roaming the skies for a reunion that may yet come to be. A dragon cannot be bound by another, while their rider still draws breath in a city free.”

Rhaenys inhaled loudly. “Laenor?” Desperate hope and wonder coloured her tone. “But, we saw his body.”

Aegon’s eyes burned – slipping between the dreams and lucidity. He blinked.

“A lie covered by flames, the sea dragon still swims and rides the waves – on wings of smoke he could still fly.”

“Daemon, what did you and Rhaenyra do? You fabricated his death? Or did you intend to murder him to wed her? Is that why he fled?”

Consciousness grew. He rolled his head back then suddenly turned to Rhaenys with intensity.

“An alpha dragon never bites off his mate’s head. A dragon could perhaps have three.” Aegon’s eyes roamed the room before settling on Rhaenys again. A warning. “Beware, false siblings of the strong ones, they would take the driftwood throne with their trueborn brother’s dragon’s breath.”

“False siblings?” Confusion clouded her question.

Ships with trident flags, sailing vessels filled with traitors. A stolen dragon, ill-used and unjustly claimed, flying overhead. A viper coiling slowly, readying his poisoned bite. An oath broken. 

“The sea snake hides a coil of eggs. Not dragon ones but sea serpent still. Do not bring them to your chest. Two vipers would sink their fangs into all your necks.”

“Corlys…” She hissed outraged. “If he is hiding away bastards, I will kill him myself.”

“An alpha dragon never bites off his mate’s head.” Aegon repeated in confusion. His eyes closed. Voices murmured in the background.

“Dragons? You think they could claim dragons? Velaryon bastards?” Father.

“I hope you realize –“ Brother

“Not now, Aemond.” Uncle

“The sea and sky have often met. They sail and fly together.” He whispered softly then hummed.

“I suppose even Corlys has enough Targaryen in him for it to be possible.” Daemon sounded almost amused, but there was a dark quality to it. Danger. He will protect his eggs. A dragon defends its nest and hoard. Fire and Blood.

“Why would Laenor do this? Leave his claim and his children behind? His own flesh and blood.” Father sounded wrought. He was drowning on dry land. His mermaid sister calling him to ride the waves or join her deep in the sea.

“Viserys,…” Rhaenys sounded exasperated. You cannot make a blind fool wish to see. Though perhaps through dreams…

“Father, you must be joking.” Aemond sounded incredulous. A different one eyed king than he, you shall be. For you, you truly wish to see. Do not be blinded by green lies.

“Rhaenyra might not be the next Queen, and Aegon might have forced the Targaryen name on the boys, but I will not have anyone speak these lies. I am still King.”

“Enough, who cares now, you blind fool. They are all legitimate Targaryens now at Aegon’s behest. I had hoped that the matter was closed. After all of this, another succession crisis. Gods be damned Corlys.”

“Perhaps the Gods will be merciful, cousin, and he will die from his fever instead of the hot flames of your fire.” Daemon cackled.

Aegon shook in convulsions as a dream raged so very clear. The Hall of Harren was lit on fire. A son and father fighting against flames. They are not dragons. Screaming followed by ashes resting on the cursed ground. Though beloved  father he was to three, those who are true dragon kin to me. This kin of his kin was not born of the blood that would shield them from the blaze. Their bodies burned as mere mortal bodies do, as fire took its claim. They had no fire in their blood. A Shield and Hand by their own blood were slain.

“Strong in life, hidden father. Visible shield, watching at the sidelines. Sacrificed to the flame by the three-legged butterfly. Not Strong but kinslayer his name should be.”

“Larys fucking Strong.” Daemon snapped incensed. “I knew it.”

A maester dabbed a wet cloth at his face. Aegon closed his eyes. “The dragon dreams are potent, your Grace, a true dragon gift from the Gods.” A God weeping for his dragon children, held in his palm. A ruler of the Gods yet merciful. And he breathed into life a man – elevated above mere mortals, created to be bound to his dragon children. In the skies united they would burn and fly.

“I, Arrax, ruler of the Gods, give you the gift of life – for otherwise, all dragons must die. The blood of the dragon you shall have. Kin to them you will be. To the skies with them, you shall take. Aerion, the first of all my dragonriders. And I, creator, father, to you all, thus it will be. And in return, the dragons will roam bonded to you, yes, but ultimately still free.”

Divinity bled from Aegon’s voice. A dragon dream too close to all they that kept sacred and holy – Valyrian magic rose from his skin – glowing. The blood bestowed upon their line, was that of dragons, magic necessary to rise above mere men – only just below the gods, riding the skies on bonded wings.

The fire in the hearth roared. Flames shot towards his body – coiling around Aegon’s splayed arms. It licked his skin and all he felt was warmth – Aegon was not burning. I am unburnt. Was I in the dream?  His eyes glowed with Valyrian fire. The fire trailed across his face. It touched his lips in a soft kiss that tasted of sweet ashes. He watched it, mind still ailing with fever and dreams. It curled around his neck in farewell and then it swiftly retreated to its home. But burning in the center of the heart, images of dragons and riders came to be. And then Aegon heard whispers of his dream once more. And vicious ice shards sprung into being – dancing with the flames. The fire began to flicker. A choice a difference could make. Aegon weakly reached for the fire. No. The Ice withdrew and fire blazed true. His arm fell to the soft bed.

Daemon watched in awe and fear. Aemond had risen in shock. The King was clutching his chest as he gasped for air. Rhaenys’s eyes were wide. They looked at him in astonishment.

“Aegon?” Aemond leaned forward.

Divine magic pulsed through him.

Aegon arched up off the bed. Once. Twice. Agony raced through him. His entire body pushed to the edge. He slumped back down into it. His arms were splayed wide. Every tendon in his body strained and pronounced. His fingers arched into claws, digging into the sheets. A paused panted breath. The silence ominous.  Aegon then wailed. His body shifted of its own accord, unnatural, as if the gods had reached down and moved him into such a position. His head sharply wrenched sideways by invisble force – glowing eyes locked unto Aemond. Viserys and Daemon, pale. Rhaenys’ mouth open in shock.

“Heed me my chosen King. The Fourteen Gods whisper in the shadows. They have shown me the end – both times. Heed me, for the Gods are not kind but ever are they wise.” The fire roared once more.

 “Daenys, the Dreamer, once saw our world to be doomed to end in fire.” The flames formed into a city at the base of a volcano, a great eruption raining fire down upon dragons and men.

“Aegon, three headed dragon, sacred Omega Dreamer, saw it end in ice.” A wretched face with artic blue eyes appeared – a smile of death – a crown of Ice.

“As a dragon, I am one of those that would rather favor burning in the fire.” The fire in the heart returned to its normal size, forming into the figure of Sunfyre and its rider, spewing dragonfire.

“But if the world around us should perish twice, I suppose Ice also would be great and would suffice.” And suddenly, frost reappeared – instantly icing over the fire, snuffing it out completely

Aegon’s head slammed into the bed, neck still arched back, unseeing eyes to the ceiling.

Speak the words of warning. Speak of what must and must not be.

“A Rose of Winter decides the fate of dragons. A child of my line decides the end of the world. The dragon must have three heads or all is lost. Wings they must have. To the skies they must take. Fire and Blood or the world will perish twice, the second time in Ice. ”

Remember your ancestor and the heavy duty he took upon himself at behest of my dreams.

 “It is a terrible burden, sister wives, but bear it I must. I have no love for it. A throne built by swords, dragonfire and endless loss of life. Omega is my nature. But first of my name, supported by you two, I shall be. Should those that sit it after us not be worthy. They will be cursed by the Gods. At best, they die swiftly. Otherwise, a long unending torture I fear it will be.”

Viserys began to weep.

A house must stand united. Protected, all of you need be.

“Enraged dragons become madmen when their clutch is threatened. The eggs must be protected, for they are claimed by blood of the dragon – all who strike at them must lose their heads or die in dragonfire.” Indistinguishable words were murmured.  Aegon grew more alert. He inhaled. “The sea should have known better, kepa.”

“Yes, he should have.” Daemon sounded choked.

“You are a madman, but dead men tell no tales.”

A deep laugh echoed through the room. Someone sighed in dismay.

Lucidity clung to his consciousness. Drawing him back harshly for a moment to reality – fever still present, still weaving in and out of memory or dragon dreams. He blinked, eyes searching.

“Uncle Daemon.” Daemon came close. Aegon’s eyes filled with tears that slowly slid down his face. Daemon thumbed them away softly. “Little Aegon, little egg, no longer destined King, third of his name he or a son of his line still could be. Be it chosen king, consort or omega queen. And in return, in this life, your little dragon will not become the Unsmiling King, Aegon the Broken. Now, Dragonbane he will never have to fear to be.” Daemon stared at him in horror, despair growing clearer at each word that fell out of his mouth. Aegon weakly grasped his arm. “Should the dragons have danced, he would have been left alone in the world – a sad fate for any Targaryen indeed.”

His hand had slackened. I made a choice. It will make a difference. Daemon’s hands cupped his face and kissed his brow. His uncle’s tears tasted of relief. “Rest, olvie gevie zaldrīzoti.” Most beautiful of dragons. He sighed in exhaustion. You have called me that before. My brother did not care for that.

“I think Aemond will not like you saying that to me.” A wet laugh against was pressed into his temple. The older alpha drew back. Hints of Aegon’s own dreams whispered louder. He angled his head. Daemon cocked his in silent question.

“You are a good brother.” There was a sharp inhalation from Viserys. “A good Dragon alpha brother. Aemond is much like you, he will make a good King as you would have. I wish all Targaryens would have such a sibling, even if they do not burn as twinned flames do – it would still be a sweet blaze – to be loved so, by such siblings such as you two.” Daemon smiled tremulously. Perhaps even bashful. Strange.

“Am I not a madman then, as you claimed, nephew?” A head rolled across the floor. A clutch of eggs protected underneath dragon wings. The sea really should have known better.

“You are. Aemond can easily be too. But I have seen it in my dreams, kepa. It’s because they’re your hatchlings too. And the sea threatened to drown them. You would give into the madness for them. You would set the world afire if they needed it. You would burn it all to the ground.”

“Yes.” No hint of doubt. Such lovely conviction.

“Now, you will do the same for us – and we will do the same for you.” He had seen it in a dream.

“Sweet boy.”

Aegon let out a pleased hum and dozed for a while. Whispers muttered at him. And so did some of his own fears.

“Aemond.” Are you still here?

“Aegon, I am here. I won’t leave you.”

“I want only soft hands but no tears.” Sad eyes staring up at him. A soft hand cupping his cheek as tears dripped down his face. Now, he wished for none of it to be repeated. I have saved her from this fate, surely you will save me from it too.

“Brother?”

“I cannot bear to shed those tears once more. Do not make me cry in the bed.” Helaena who bled at his mother’s insistence and his father’s indifference onto white sheets.

“Never.”

“I tried so hard not to make Helaena cry, Aemond. Do not make me cry as the Green Queen made me do our sister. I fear she will have you make me as well.” I will not survive it – not again. I would rather embrace Balerion than to be left to such torment.

“Aegon.” His brother’s voice was tortured.

“I do not want harsh hands near me, Aemond. They cut and make me bleed. It always ends in tears.” Harsh hands always leading to bruises, blood and disappointment.

“Brother?”

“King Baelor, first of his name, will ride the Green Mountain. Cannibal will no longer be his name. His bonded will ride Vermithor and Silverwing. The dragon will have three heads.” A pup.

“King Baelor?” Our pup. Crowned, bathing in ethereal fire. So beautiful. 

“Our child. But only if you do not make me cry in the bed. I have seen it, Aemond. A good King to follow another one, both first of their name.” Aegon sighed. “Beautiful like you...” A soft kiss was pressed unto the inside of his wrist.

“No brother, if he is beautiful, then it will be because of you.” Such admiration. Such devotion. Such love. Such a kind dream.

“Keep green hands away brother. You have one eye. You will see.” It will come to be.

“Aegon?”

“Fire and Blood, Aemond.” They were dragons, not towers.

Silence reigned for a time. Dreams wound down, but flickered still.

“Jaehaerys will burn like we do, brother, only his will be a tripled flame. Silver his wings will be.”

Silence reigned once more.

Do not forget your warning.

Tessarion, mercy please, have I not dreamed enough.

Danger still approaches.

Panic coursed through him as he remembered. “Do not let them poison me, brother. They will carve me open. The egg and I will perish by their blades.”

“Aegon?”

“A cup of poison and no babes.”

“Aegon, who would poison you?” Daemon’s voice sounded near.

“A cup of poison and no babes, for a Tower to rise, a falcon must be cut down. All but one egg in her nest crushed. Only one egg hatched.”

Someone sucked in a harsh breath.

“Beware the hatched egg, the coin has not landed yet.”

“Oh Rhaenyra, I will make you see reason.” Rhaenys spoke solemnly. “There are worse fates.”

“They poisoned the waves of the sea. Only two mermaids, of Meleys the uncrowned, escaped the green currents.” A cup fell to the floor and shattered.

“Dear gods above.”

 “The Tower cannot be a Hand if the Prince of Spring lives.” Daemon came into view, unashamed tears dripping down his cheeks

“My father?”

“No, it cannot be.” Viserys denied.

 “The Green Hand could not become a Fist, if the Prince of Dragons did not drink the poison cup.” Daemon looked like a dragon made flesh in his anguish. Wrath in his gaze.

“He died of a ruptured belly, Daemon.” His Father argued weakly. Daemon’s mad gaze locked unto the King.

“Viserys…” Incredulity laced Rhaenys’ voice. Aegon drew in breath. Daemon’s eyes flicked to him in razor sharp focus.

“A dragon bled inside. Balerion held vigil for four nights, five days. The belly of the beast would not have burst, if not for soured wine poured into a green cup…”

“No, he wouldn’t.” Viserys spoke again. Aegon tilted his head to his father.

“Two eyes you may once have had, but you wish to be completely blind. Green is a poison. You have drunk too often from their cup. In the land of the willfully blind, the one eyed man has been chosen to be a King that wishes to see.”

Silence settled heavily into the room.

“Arrest Otto Hightower and Larys Strong.” The King ordered brokenly.

Aemond came into view, tears trailing down his face. A sapphire necklace for me, perhaps, to display your claim and keep me from harm.

“I will keep you safe, Aegon.”

“Help me let the song end on a beautiful note. The Gods want it to be thus. Let the dragons only know a mating dance.” Music thrilled at the edges of his dreams. Such a song.

Aemond nodded.

Such a promise. Was it only a dream?

Aegon closed his eyes, fevered still.

Time passed.

Dreams wove in then faded, but were more distant from him then before. People moved across the room. Some stayed. Some left. Some came back. Aegon left to his fevered slumber. The scent of relief heavy in the room as the fever lessened too.

Time passed.

Hands cradling his face. His nose wrinkled. His eyes opened hooded then closed. Those hands became sharper. He whined. A low growl rumbled somewhere in the room.

“Hush, Aegon.” His mother spoke – voice even. “Do not get upset, I am here.” I don’t want you here. Is this a nightmare or another dream?

Distress grew in him and the rumble grew louder.

“Ser Cole, take Aemond for a walk. I will watch over my son.” Her hands carded through his hair. He tried to lean away but felt so weak.

“Mother…”

“You need a breath of fresh air, Aemond. You have been at his side for two days. I can watch him for a moment. I am his mother, am I not? Your Queen?”

Murmurings and a scent he did not know he had been relying on lessened. The hands in his hair tightened. Aegon kept his eyes closed, chest rising at a slow pace with every labored inhalation. Fingers untangled from his hair, traced the lines of his face – the bridge of his nose – the hollow of his throat; They wrapped around his neck, until with a firm grip his mother shook him hard – fingers tightening around his throat in warning. His eyes opened in shock - a mere sliver, but open still. Sweat dripped into his eyes, the fever still there – dangerous. A silent monster, still capable of dragging him to his grave. But there was a different monster in the room. Sharp nails dug into his skin. There you are mother, always hurting those you claim to love.

Alicent leaned down and spoke into his ear softly. Her words held no kindness to them as ever though. He did not think they ever would. I only wish for kind words and gentle hands.

“Can you do nothing right?” Despair grew at her words. “You and your vile perversions.” The pressure grew around his throat. He couldn’t breathe. “You are given a divine right to be the rightful king and you would use it to spread your legs for your brother.” Agitation and panic coursed through him. He tried to raise weak arms to push her off, but failed. “My father and Lord Strong have been arrested on account of your mad ravings.” They are traitors. The Gods have whispered of their crimes. They will not escape their fate. “You have ruined us – ruined yourself.” The pressure tightened. Let go, I can’t breathe.  “I will not let you ruin Aemond too.” Am I ruined? “Whore!” was finally screamed.

A loud growl – an Alpha – protection – not the comforting scent of before but comforting still – salvation. Uncle Daemon? The pressure around his throat disappeared immediately and he sucked in grateful breaths of air.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“I…”

“Ser Arryk, escort the Queen out. She will be questioned about her treatment of the Omega Royal, her own son, in the meantime, she is not to be left alone with him.”

“He is my son.”

“And I find you here, choking him while calling him a whore. Maester, tend to him”

His head lolled to the side. A new presence. Is that not Dragonstone’s maester? Eyes open fully but blurry. The maesters’ soft hands were palpitating his throat. Kind hands. Why couldn’t mother ever have kind hands for me. He whined. The soft touches still hurt. Daemon’s scent grew heavier and Aegon inhaled deeply. He could still smell his mother. Keep her away. She will finally kill me. She has gone mad.

“Leave, your Grace. It is clear as day to any alpha that you distress him. He is still not out of danger. Stressing him will only make it worse. Strangling him, permanent, I fear.” The last was spoken drily. Permanent indeed. Daemon you saw. Keep her away from me. She is a tower trying to crush a dragon. Do not let the crumbling tower bury me, kepa.

“It is you all – you and your vile plots –  who dragged him to throne room – why his body is so weakened.”

Ointment was rubbed gently into the marks of his neck. His aching scent glands throbbed. Stop fighting. Leave me be. I have made it right. It is done. Aemond will be King.

“I have done my duty.” He rasped – his voice shredded. “I am the Omega Royal, mother, not a whore.” Another low growl joined the room and that desperately needed scent had returned – a great comfort. Aemond? No matter. “I have kept us all safe and united our House.” His mother’s face wove in and out of view. “I have made your most beloved son King.” Satisfaction uncurled deep inside of him. “I have freed Helaena from your vile ambitions.” You will never hurt her again. Rage glittered in her eyes. “Let me die in peace.”

His head rounded back as she slapped him hard. Blood flooded his mouth. Her rings and palm had struck hard and true. His vision wavered as he weakened, the silent monster finding opportunity.

Loud growls and screaming roared throughout the room. Heavy scents vied for attention and it was all too much. He tasted copper and salt. Fever drug him back into a maelstrom of agony. His vision dimmed. A presence lingered.

Balerion…

“I am a dragon, mother, not a Tower. You always forget that.” He whispered softly. His eyes closed.

The God of Death beckoned him closer as fever beset him once more. Agony all he knew, yet again.

Oblivion followed.

Chapter Text

Aegon slowly became more and more aware, though he was not awake exactly – a curious way of being. He was still fevered, but discovered he could not move or speak. His eyes were closed and yet he knew instinctively that two people were in his chambers, one close by. A callused thumb gently stroked the knuckles of his right hand. And yet his hand did not even twitch to signal some level of consciousness. Though the motion was comforting, this prison of his body was terrifying.

“I was only trying to have her come see you as a comfort to you, brother. I did not know what transpired before I arrived.“ Daeron. Aegon thought. That was Daeron’s voice, sad and too far away for him to be the one so near to him. They had but one brother. Was it Aemond stroking his knuckles, trying to comfort him. The thought did not make sense. Aemond would not do such a thing. Helaena might if she were in one of her better moods but her thumb would be soft.

“I have no need for a mother who so suddenly mistreats her son, her newly presented ailing Omega son, in such a manner.” Aemond. Aegon thought in wonder. It was Aemond who treated him so gently. Was this a scene in the Heavens? Had he died and found sweet release? But that could not be because the tension in the air was clear, even as imprisoned as he was in a still body. His senses were muddled but even he could feel that the silence stretched too long and felt too heavy to bear.

His nose burned. So many scents.  A trickle of unease began to brew inside him. Why couldn’t it be the Heavens. Aegon would have much preferred that. He tried to voice his unease but his body did not obey his commands. I am here.

 “Why do you look at me so, Daeron?” There was a strained quality evident in Aemond’s voice. As if there was an uncertain truth even Aemond had to acknowledge, though he clearly would prefer to live in denial.  “Speak plainly, brother.”

Brother, Aegon mused. Not valonqar as I use for Daeron. My brother, but also my pup. Did Aemond not want to bestow the Valyrian title on their little brother? Was he perhaps jealous that Aegon called him that? I seldom call Aemond that anymore. Didn’t we argue about that? He couldn’t quite remember.

“You do not want me to speak plainly, Aemond, you want the illusion of lies.” Daeron spoke calmly and clearly, though his words were harsh. Why was he even here. Isn’t he in Oldtown? It must be a dream. Such a wonderful dream. Had he dreamed before this moment?

“How dare –“

“Don’t ask me the truth if you have no desire to hear it, Aemond.” Daeron cut Aemond off waspishly.

“Enlighten me then of your truth.” Aemond snapped. Aegon felt the unease in him brew further. Something ugly clawed at him. Don’t fight. Is this a nightmare instead of a dream? Disquiet choked at the back of his throat as he lay helpless to escape from it all.

“Not my truth, the plain truth.” Daeron spoke frustrated. “The truth that you do not wish to acknowledge. The truth that her mistreatment of Aegon is not sudden. The truth that she has used and abused him for her and grandsire’s own gain and ambitions all his life.” Daeron inhaled sharply.

Aemond’s thumb dug into the flesh above Aegon’s knuckles sharply. Maybe Aegon could focus on that.

“The truth that nothing he did was ever good enough. That she asks of him what no one could give her. That she hates him for the position the King put us all in. That she blames him for not being named heir. That she has driven our brother to drink and ruination when he was but a child because he was drowning before our very eyes. That perhaps only having his own children saved him from himself.”

Shame tried to overwhelm Aegon, as he lay helpless to remove himself from his situation. And in turn, he allowed the truth to fester in his mind. I would much prefer the heavens to this. But Daeron speaks true. I would have ruined myself completely if not for my children needing me. Helaena means well, but she can’t be the mother they need. And I can’t bear for my children to having a cruel father and an absent mother.  

Self-loathing still uncurled in him at Daeron’s words. To have this spoken about so plainly.  All my failures. Maybe I am in a version of one of the seven Hells instead. I have tried my best – for us, our family and the Realm. I have tried. I have. A tear slid down Agon’s cheek unnoticed. And still, his youngest brother spoke further – as his heart felt torn from his chest.

“That she does not care for Aegon beyond that his very nature has fulfilled her every desire and protected us beyond measure. She does not particularly care if he survives, Aemond, because she despises him and thinks he has done the only thing he is good for. He has made you father’s heir, put Rhaenyra in her place and protected us from civil unrest – even war – and a bloody succession crisis.”

Have I?

He could not quite remember. Flashes of memory prickled at the edge of his mind, but he could not make sense of it yet. A hint of memory surfaced. He was standing fevered, in front of nobles and smallfolk – his family on the dais with the king, strong arms keeping him upright and safe. He has always made me feel safe. Words had been spoken. Important words. He tried to remember. Whispers grew loud for an instant – and he remembered a shard of it. ‘…my choice for the next King. Prince Aemond Targaryen, first of his name…’ Did that happen? Am I dreaming?

“ Should he live, that is the only thing she will be thankful for, brother, because she is already taking advantage of Aegon possibly dying to make him a martyr. Because that would only strengthen your claim, the pups and mine should you not have heirs of your own body, and best of all … she is using it to punish Rhaenyra and Daemon. Even now she is pushing they be exiled or he sent to the Wall for stressing her Omega son to the point of being on the brink of death as she puts it – never mind her own actions and the fact that Aegon was old to present as the Omega Royal – not because she has love in her heart for Aegon but out of petty revenge. And in doing so she dishonors Aegon, his fight for you – us – and it might make a bloodless succession less so – all because she has never forgiven our elder sister for not choosing her. That is the truth Aemond.” They could have each other. Cunts, the both of them.

Yet, a looming sense of despair filled Aegon. That is the truth, despicable though it may be. His mother hated him. His grandsire was repulsed by everything he did. Their father ignored and slighted them at every turn. All because he could not be the son or grandson he was meant to be.

“Leave.” Aemond rasped out. Clearly the truth was as harsh for Aemond as it was for Aegon to hear, though Aegon felt muddled, surely his brother knew all this – all of his faults. He confronted Aegon often enough with them. It hurt but at least Aemond was never as harsh as their mother, never violent with Aegon as their grandsire. Aegon was grateful enough that his brother still must love him enough for that mercy. And the last few months, few years really –  it seemed as if his brother was returned to him – smiling and seeking his presence once more. I missed him so. They had all been lost to bitterness for a time. For Aegon, his children brought back a spark of hope – unconditional love given and received. Perhaps, that is what brought Aemond back as well. Perhaps to burn.

“No.”

“Leave!” Aemond screamed. Sudden fear raced through Aegon at the raised voice. No. Leave, please, leave me be.  He wanted to be rid of this – of them – not trapped like this with no escape. Aegon could not bear it. Why was everything so muddled. He felt as if he was screaming and none could hear him. Can you not hear me?

“No. I am not done brother. For you say you wish for the truth and I shall be the one to give it to you.”

“I never knew you to be so cruel, Daeron.”

“I suppose I am.” Daeron spoke almost gently. As gentle as a sharp knife plunged in between ribs. There was a marked silence before Aemond spoke. Something had drawn his ire and turned it into confusion. Was it the gentleness that finally did it? Why were they turning on each other? We are all we have left. If we turn on one and other – there will be no future left.

Alarm and whispers in the shadows urged Aegon on. They had be a united House. It was important, but he couldn’t quite remember why. Whispers tore at his mind, but he couldn’t make them out clearly. Stop. Please, stop. I am trying. I am here.

“You are angry with me as well.” Aemond’s voice was tinged with surprise.

“I am.” Spoken by their youngest brother with that same strange gentle quality as before. A dagger plunged into Aemond’s heart. Why do you provoke him so, valonqar?

“Why?” Aemond sounded anguished. “Have I not been a dutiful son? A dutiful brother? Be everything that has been demanded from me?”

Silence lingered. A hint of bitterness filled the room. Aegon ached to lick his lips. Why can’t I move?

“You do not think me to be this?”

“I think you have tried your very best for mother and grandsire. You are worthy of being king. You could, for the most part, be a good one.” Daeron answered – a guarded tone to his voice.

“For the most part?” There was almost a dull quality to Aemond’s voice. “And apparently not a dutiful brother by your estimation?” Oh Aemond.

“For the most part, should you not heed the ambitions and plots. Yet not a good king should you seek to unleash your rage and vengeance unto our family. I fear that your rage will make you cruel where a good king would be merciful and reunite our House and Westeros under your reign. Mother and grandsire would not be the help you think them to be. Not that they can do much now, her restricted to her rooms and Otto in a black cell.” No they won’t. They are vipers curled around our throats. Green poison in our cups. Has their hatred not spurned the Realm to the brink of war? Has father finally seen the danger? Is that why they are confined? Still, a black cell…

Something teased at the edges of his mind again. Aegon was certain he had in fact forgotten something now-something important. He struggled to make sense of it all. Yet his effort remained in vain. He remained motionless – trapped in his own body – in his own mind. How did he come to be in such a state? What was happening? Have I been poisoned?   

“I would not…” Aemond’s voice echoed strangely – vulnerable in a way he seldom heard his brother be. Daeron was right. Aemond could be a good king – a great one, but there lurked a beast beneath his breast – a scorned dragon coiled deep within. We are dragons. We are above mere mortal men. And he will be a great king. Did it not dream of it? Did I dream of other things as well? A flash of memory overtook  Aegon for a moment – he desperately tried to cling to it. He tried to remember. He knew he needed to remember. There were fourteen figures with horns and tails. A female one held him in her embrace, until dreams overwhelmed him and he screamed. Valyrian gods and dragon dreams. Impossible. Aegon’ mind shied away from it. There was Ice there too. An artic cold trying to douse the fire in his veins. What was it he had seen? Gods and dreams? The ice crept forward slowly – toward his inner flame – he had forgotten something just now. Were there figures in my dreams? Did I dream?

“Tell me your heart does not burn to have your vengeance on Lucerys? To see him brought low, take his eye, strip him from his title of Prince of the realm. To name him a bastard and take Driftmark from him. To reduce him to a former shell of himself but alive, so you can revel in his shame and pain. Though if pushed you could be feral enough to bash his skull in. Couldn’t you? Go ahead and lie if you must. Would you be a good sovereign to him – or the second coming of Maegor – should your every desire be indulged. Is that what a good King makes?”

Aegon tried to speak as he struggled to focus – to refute Daeron’s words. Don’t fight. We mustn’t fight. He will not do it. He will not risk it. We will show him – advise him. He will not squander… Aegon tried to remember what it was Aemond would not squander. He tried to focus on the fire in his veins – tried to feed them to a blaze. The Ice hissed. He had to fight. There was something important he had forgotten. I gave Aemond a gift.

“Daeron…” Why is Aemond pleading?

“Burn it all to the ground, brother. Tarnish everything Aegon did for you – a worthy legacy indeed.” Daeron, no – what is happening? His body felt heavier. He was made of fire. He had to be a true dragon. He focused on the blood. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. We are to be a three-headed dragon. He, Aemond and Helaena. There will onlybe soft hands and kind words. Ther would be no more tears. Or was it only an unkind dream. Did I dream?

“He is not dead yet, Daeron! Aegon clings to life. He is fighting!” Am I dying? Is this why I cannot move?

“Aegon clings to you, Aemond. To a very few of us and certainly his children, but beside them mostly you. Blind to it though you have ever been. You have heard the maesters. They fear, even now, he will not – “ My children, my heart. One of the few things that bring me true joy.

“Do not finish that thought.”

“oh Aemond, if he does not awaken soon, he will be lost to the Stranger. It is a miracle he still breathes, the last changing fever and mother’s apparent mistreatment besides. And should he live…”

“He will. He must.” Must I? Is my gift not enough? What did I give him? Was it not sufficient?

“Should he live… Aemond, you must see Aegon is not truly well. He tries and fights, but –” Balerion. Is it he who whispers so to me?

“He is Omega, a treasure for our House, a great gift to be loved and cherished.” Omega. Sacred and divine. A gift from the Gods. We have been saved. Why are they quarreling?

“But he is not.”

“He is.” His brother could be so stubborn. Both of them could. They had fire in their blood. We are dragons, are we not? We are not Towers. Is it no wonder our fire burns so hot. We belong in the sky – or coiled together – burning with our fire. “Even more so in the future.” Tentative hope arose in Aegon. Will I be? Cherished and loved? Am I truly a gift? Something whispered at the periphery once more, still too low for him to fully understand. He tried to whine but no sound escaped him.

“Aemond, suddenly presenting Omega is a great gift, that is true. Him being the Omega Royal has seen you to be the next King. But it does not change that Aegon is not well. He does not truly wish to live.” No, do not speak of it. He will think me weak. Am I not fighting to live, now?

“How dare you speak such spurious lies.”

Daeron’s tone was sad and low. Something pressing lingered in the air once more – like the air before a thunder storm. “They are not lies.” How do you know that though? No, it is behind me.

Contempt laced Aemond’s reply. “And how would you know, son of Old Town”

Too far, Aemond. You go too far. Yet Daeron should know better. Aemond always lashed out when cornered – when pushed too far. A heavy silence took hold and another scent that bordered on cloying spread – something that spoke of regret and penance.

“Forgive me. I didn’t mean for it to…”

A harsh laugh was barked out into the room. Oh Daeron. He did not mean it – not truly.

“It is what you think, is it not? It is how you feel. You do not truly see me as a brother.” Exhaustion was evident in Daeron’s voice. “It is what I am used to. None of you see me as true kin, only Aegon has ever done so. He is the only one who wrote often. Who flew to me on Sunfyre several times a year to see me. To try and protect me at Oldtown.”

“Daeron…” Aemond pleaded – for Daeron to stop, for him to take back his words. What could have brought them to this? Green poison ran its course. It left their mark and their scars. Don’t fight. Don’t. Don’t break each other’s heart.  

“He is more a parent then either the Queen or King have ever been. I fear being all but orphaned at his death, for who would care for me should he perish.” Soft sobs reached Aegon, whose own heart ached for Daeron. His valonqar – a hostage in Old Town – a dragon alone for so long. I will not leave you.

“Did you know he still visited even when he suffered much abuse there too, Aemond?” Something creaked, something rustled. “Where cruel words and fists rained down upon him – for vile ambition and my own protection. Still he came. Still he wrote.” Don’t tell him that. Aemond doesn’t know the whole of it.

A pause lingered.

“But on one of his visits, he was deep in his cups Aemond, he told me the truth. He longed for the absolution that death would bring – the peace of mind. He sat crying while gulping down cup of wine after cup of wine as he often did then. He spoke that he had thought about it for years, since he was a little boy. He had several methods though spoke that while dragonfire would be his preference, he thought himself not worthy of the honor. Perhaps flying to Valyria would be the solution – though he feared risking Sunfyre dying there as well too great a hazard.”

Shame overwhelmed Aegon again. He did not remember speaking such things. Certainly it must be several years ago – before the children. Daeron must have been so frightened. He had been only a little dragon. Have I burdened him so?

“I had to listen as he explained… That a sharp knife or tight rope would have to suffice. He spoke as if it was already decided – a certain future. And then he spoke that he would be our great shame and downfall. That he thought that the Green faction would have a better claimant in you, should he not stand in your way. And that he still wished for you to have it, if only he could see it happen without bloodshed. Support your goals, protect you when the war came – even if he was not a great warrior like you. And that perhaps that was the only reason he had not cut his throat, hung himself from the rafters or thrown himself from the Keep before he had his own children – he wanted to see you become king and have a peaceful reign. Even though he knew that could not be should he live, unless he presented omega.” But I have presented omega.  And he can be king. He will be king. I have made it so. Now, there need not be a war – now our House can be restored. I know it needs to be restored. It is important.

“I think he secretly wished for it for years, but he had given up all hope of late. Even though the gods have granted us this boon, it will not change that our brother lingers on the cusp of death now. And should he live, you must understand… Aegon clings to us, his children and to you Aemond in truth, not to life. You must prepare yourself that even if he wakens, he might not wish to live.”

The sour scent of Aemond’s fear overwhelmed Aegon. No. No, I will not leave. We have much to live for – I have much to live for. I see that now. Perhaps once I would have wished to see Aemond crowned in his own right – wished I were the second son and not the first. The Gods know I never wanted it. But once the children were born… I would have flown to the Free Cities with them – escaped the inevitable war. But has it not been averted? I will not succumb. I will survive. We will thrive. No.

“Daeron!” Aemond spoke their brother’s name with so much fear and desperation. Another tear slid down Aegon’s cheek unnoticed. I am sorry. I will do better. I am better now. I am.

“Should he wake he may be content or even happy at the fortune of his presentation.” Daeron spoke gently. “It could also very will give him the freedom and peace of mind to finally find the courage to embrace the Stranger of his own volition. Secure that you will keep us – his children –  safe. It is all he ever wanted.” Balerion, please release me from your grasp. I will prove worthy of life. I will. I promise to fight. The fire in his veins hissed – he burned. Fire doesn’t kill a true dragon. We have fire in our blood – there are flames in our veins. Fire and Blood. Fire and Blood. There is fire in my blood. I wish to burn. Aemond. I wish to burn together. We have burned so before. Now we can burn so once more. He focused on his flame. Burn.  

“Cease your heinous words.” There was a tremulous quality to Aemond’s voice. “He will be my consort, my Omega, mother of our own pups if or when he desires. We will be happy.” We will. We will all be happy. Wasn’t there a dream that sang of it. Why can’t I remember? A hint of children’s laughter teased at his mind’s eye, different from the children he already had. There will be more children. They will be joyful – we will not make the same mistakes our elders did – no small shoulders will be made to carry too heavy a burden.  

“Aemond.”

“He will.” It was sharply spoken. “He will stand by my side and I shall protect him. I shall protect all of us.” We shall protect each other. We are dragons. That is what matters. It is the only thing that matters. We should coil and nest together – all of us – fill the sky with dragons and their riders. It is time to mend bridges – to secure our future. Something hissed, as a sense of unease prickled at Aegon. Something evil lurks. The cold buried deep inside him surged. No. His flame rushed against the ice. No. We must be united. It is coming. We cannot be divided when it does. I wish to live – to burn.

A sigh was Aemond’s reply.

“You will leave this room.” It was getting harder to breathe once more. Darkness beckoned yet again. Fire. Fire and Blood. There is fire in our blood.

“Aemond…”

“Leave. I will think on your words but do not mistake me, Daeron –  should I inspire Aegon to cling to myself and the children and not life, as you claim, then I will use it to keep him with me.” Aemond… I wish to stay. Darkness  took him completely. I wish to burn.

Chapter Text

Aegon could feel the pillow underneath his head – the soft sheet covering his body. He shifted minutely as his eyelids fluttered. He knew without opening his eyes they were some time away before true dawn filled the sky with hues of red and gold – of burnt orange and violet light.

He could hear the hissing of a dying fire – a log being placed on embers. The scent of fire and ash perforated the room with a hint of brine – it was comforting and safe. We are of the sky and also distantly of the sea. Targaryens and Velaryons have often intermarried. We smell of flame and saltwater in different degrees. Is there a dragon lurking? Daemon? Why does that not frighten me?

Time seemed to pass indistinctly as Aegon tried to gather his thoughts. A door closed gently somewhere to his left. How many people are in the room? It was difficult to tell. All he really felt certain of, was that he was not alone. He bit back a groan as his aches and strains made themselves known. His body also felt almost weirdly weighed down, but he could gratefully tell was finally no longer trapped inside it. It no longer terrified him. A prisoner no longer. Fuck me, but it still feels like a dragon stepped on me.

A finger twitched, curling in the bedding. But why am I not afraid? He tried to focus – force his awareness of his surroundings to be made more alert and cognizant. I feel safe. Curious. I don’t remember feeling safe for so long. Why now?

Amidst the dragon scent – another note of fire drew his attention. It tickled his nose and curled over him like a blanket. A small purr escaped his lips – unheard by any other. His chest slowly vibrating. This scent caressed him almost like an alluring welcome – a beacon of security. A flash of memory of strong hands holding him up. A frown furrowed his brow.  There were dragons and vultures surrounding me – vipers and rats waiting for a feast. Dragons shouldn’t turn voracious eyes on other dragons. That never ends well.  

Arms had held him – a strong chest shielded his tears of pain and frustration from sight. I needed you near me. You promised you would be there. He had sought shelter from the one who would always stand by him – even when enemies circled them – waiting for the blood to spill.

I marched to my death. Yet his dragon held him up and then imperative words were spoken. A claim was made. A king was chosen – and Aegon had kept them all safe. I made a choice. Memories trickled down slowly – cloying in him mind. There had been harsh words and accusations shouted, both in a hall where a man lost his head – Vaemond I cautioned you, why did you not listen – and over a table where dragons sat feasting and old hurts were laid bare. I screamed – I could not take it any longer. And then a fever took him over – and he burned. Omega Royal. Sacred and dive – to be cherished and loved – Salvation.

And now this scent of green fire covered him and anchored him to the living. Wildfire. He smells of green fire – mixed with that of ash, flame with only but a hint of sea salt there.  A focal point to be brought back from whispers and the dead – a reminder to rage against the ice – for he was a dragon.

He needed to live to burn. He needed to breathe to embrace his children. He needed to fly the sky to rage down fire on any of those who would strike at other dragons. We need to be united.

Aegon’s scent gland ached gloriously. He bit me. It cannot be undone. Another dragon’s fangs had made a claim themselves. He is here – beside me. That is why I feel so safe.

For now, he could rest safely. Aemond was close by. His brother who must not have left his side – watching, waking, waiting. My mate – my future king. The scent of him a shield of protection and anchor made. Such a comforting scent. Aemond. Safety.

Their scents coiled with one and other. His and Aemond. He too consisted of that inviting scent – matching his brother’s completely. We are two halves of a whole. We will burn together as one.

There had been awful, wicked dreams. Of raging storms and churning seas. A song of Ice and Fire that they would need to rise to the occasion to. They would have to do it together. Build a future so the winter that would inevitably come could be destroyed by dragons and their fire. There had been good dreams too. The sound of children laughing – of dragons roaring as they hatched their eggs or claimed their full-grown riders. An heir would emerge from their line.

They too would have a mixture of their scent. They will smell of the sky and the sea – of wildfire when it was lit, not of the scent of its solid state. Wildfire in that form held notes of mortar and stone. It’s because we are dragons, not towers. We cannot smell of solid structures rooted in the ground. We are meant for clouds and liquid flame. The fire in our blood – the dragons we coil and bond with – both man and beast alike.

It would be hard and difficult, but an abundance of dragons had to fill the sky when snow covered the land and a wall of Ice shattered. We must let go of our grievances once and for all. We cannot do it alone. We must do it together. An heir must rise – with our scent and our blood – who flies the skies and can fill it with flame – and has yet also the scent of blue winter flowers and fir trees. Of dragons and dire wolves. One who will flame the sky with other dragons as well as hunt in a pack with other wolves as they hunt their prey. A prince that was promised. A beautiful babe. A crownless line would once more bear forth a king.  

“Aegon?” A voice called out his name. A hand touched his face softly, reverently as it cupped his cheek. Aegon could only marginally shift into it. Another soft purr escaped him. Strong fingers curled more firmly yet gently – always kindly. “Brother?” Such hope filled that voice. Soon.

A more natural darkness took him. He could rest a little longer – when he was protected so fiercely. He would be cherished and beloved. Soon, Aemond. Soon.

“He moved; I am certain of it.”

When Aegon slowly opened his eyes, he squinted and blinked slowly – adjusting to the darkness that was slowly lightening as the first hint of dawn approached. His gaze turned towards the window – watching as hints of the first sun rays seeped in from in between the seams of his shutters, that moved with the wind ever so slowly.

It illuminated the room just enough – for their shapes to be visible and some shadows to form and dance across his chambers. There was a sheer canopy hanging from his bedframe – one side of which was drawn open. The fabric twirled with each gust of wind. The air shifting it around. His chest steadily rose up and down with each inhalation – in tune with the wind and the beams of light. A new dawn approached, heralding new beginnings – difficult they might be. Better things will surely follow.   

He became slowly more and more aware of his body. And at a certain point, Aegon realized there was a comforting weight on his belly. With some effort, his head tilted down. There was a body resting against the side of the bedframe – where the gauzy curtains were pulled. It was slumped half against the bedding seated on the ground, half slung over it. An arm lay curled over his body and a head rested on his lower abdomen – raising up and down with each measured breath Aegon took. A large hand curled around his hip – its grip secure. It was as if its owner was tracking every motion Aegon’s body made – as if to make sure it kept moving at all. To make sure Aegon kept drawing breath.

Emerging sunlight glinted off of long silver hair strands that had escaped a braid. The ends had a hint of a swirl to them. They obscured most parts of the face that was not pressed against Aegon’s belly, but even if he had been too addled from his dreams to mistake which dragon was guarding its hoard – the eyepatch bisecting that lovely head would certainly make it clear. Aemond.

His brother’s functioning eye was closed but Aegon knew he wasn’t truly sleeping – despite the exhaustion pouring off of him. Aegon whimpered softly. He misliked seeing his brother in such a state. And the fact Aemond still wore his eyepatch meant he still had his sapphire in. You know you shouldn’t sleep with it in. You get terrible migraines as it is.

Aegon licked his lips – dry and slightly cracked, as if he had bitten them. He felt a cut at the edge of his lower lip. His tongue prodded it. He hissed slowly as a metallic taste filled his mouth.

A slow movement stirred in the darkest part of his chamber, that drew his attention away from his brother. His gaze almost lazily slid towards the origin of the sound. He squinted his eyes again, trying to make sense of the objects in the shadows – where first light had not quite chased away the dark of night. As suddenly a face revealed itself slowly – leaning forward into a beam dancing in front of him with intent – as if not to startle him. Aegon connected gazes with Daemon. We are dragons, you and I. You defended me. You pressed for my right to the throne – my right to choose. I will not forget that. We have much ground to cover, but will not ignore the wing you finally extended to shield me and mine.  

Aegon observed his uncle. The older man looked tired, though he did not radiate the same exhaustion his brother did. Aegon watched as the man looked him over in turn. Aegon lifted a hand up tiredly. Daemon watched closely as he did it – clearly struggling but moving of his own volition.

When their eyes connected once more – the older dragon finally smiled a tremulous smile – as relief tinged his gaze. Aegon appreciated that there had been more than one dragon in his chamber, one who was now silently watching – waiting – guarding. It must not have been easy for him either. Rhaenyra will not have taken his stance with grace.

At least she wasn’t in the room. Aegon had not forgotten how she had spoken of him with vitriol – all but called him a whore. Then again, another screamed it in my face. Mother.

His mind shied away from that. There would be time to address those issues in the near future – now that there was a future to be had. A future with laughter and the joy of new life – instead of certain death. I will focus on that.

He watched how the elder man hid his face in trembling hands. And then looked on how Daemon slowly but deliberately settled back in darkness – hiding him from view for a little while longer. We can have this peace a little while longer at least, before reality comes crashing down.  

Grateful for the silent reprieve, he focused back on what mattered more. Aegon slowly raised his arm and cupped Aemond’s head gently.

“Valonqar, you cannot fall asleep like that.” His voice was rusty and croaked – as if he had been screaming himself hoarse. I have been screaming. He had screamed and dreamt – of things of horror but also wonder. A tear slid down his cheek – his fingers curled in those silver strands of hair and tugged slowly before tiredly smoothing them down. “Aemond?”

A few seconds passed. As if Aemond hadn’t heard him until quite abruptly his brother’s entire being stilled as if carved from stone – before his eye flicked open with wild desperation. I am here. You need to agonize no longer. I have woken.

“Aegon?” Aemond’s tone was filled with barely contained hope and terror. An acrid sense of fear and desperation reached his nose, which crinkled – then smoothed out as he could all but taste something far sweeter – a sense of honey suckle and the taste of ash and Sulphur and a scent of brine. Aemond and his wondrous hope as well something Aegon only could describe as passion. Oh, but are we not magnificent dragons, who will burn together – forever. In this life and the next. I have seen Balerion’s hall, have I not?

Aegon began stroking his fingers over his brother’s head in a slow repetitive motion – despite how much effort it took of him. His little brother was terrified. It was now his duty to comfort him. Aemond who had seemingly barely left his sight, perhaps only to bathe or eat – though out of the corner of his eye he could make out a platter on the table next to the bed with half eaten sweet meats and a goblet he presumed contained wine.

What he was certain of was what his little brother surely hadn’t been doing, which was sleeping. There was a stricken, gaunt look to Aemond’s face – as if he could not contain himself as he devoured Aegon, awake and speaking. Aemond leaned into his hand. My poor brother. You must have been so afraid. Always so fierce and protective, but what good did that do when faced with fevers and a body ripping itself to pieces, while Gods debated amongst themselves if they would put it back together whole and hale. You could not protect me from that. It must have petrified you.

“You’ll get a crick in your neck, Aemond, and I’ll have to listen to you whine about it.” Aegon tried to defuse the heady tension building up between them. His lips curling up in an attempt of a comforting smile. I am fine. We are fine.

When the tension finally broke – so did his brother. Aemond turned his head fully into Aegon’s belly and released a wretched sob. Aegon felt tears gathering as he watched his brother grieving as his body shook with the force of it – finally releasing all his fears and feelings, Aegon had no doubt Aemond had kept hidden deep down. It tore at his heart. He purposefully cupped Aemond’s crown, only his thumb moving in comforting circles on Aemond’s temple.

“Hush, Aemond.” I am here. I am fine.

Aemond’s arm slung around his body tightened, his fist clutched at Aegon and the sheet covering him – as one heart-wrenching sob after another overtook his younger brother. Aemond had always been more reserved – contained with his emotions and affections. Yet when it finally overtook him – it always raged. Such a fierce dragon.

“Come, rest with me.” Aegon tugged weakly at a loosened braid. Aemond’s head lifted and Aegon saw his brother’s lips trembling, as wet soft gasps escaped him as his sobs tapered down – yet tears kept trailing down one cheek. Aegon thumbed them away slowly, still others soon followed. He pulled Aemond’s head closer one final time, before his hand fell to the bedding as his remaining strength waned. I know, brother. I know.

“Come, sleep beside me. You need to rest.”

He had half expected stringent objections. Instead Aegon weakly watched as Aemond unsteadily rose immediately – hands bracing himself on the bed as he forced himself upright – almost wobbling in place. Aemond considered Aegon in the bed before simply saying. “I don’t wish to hurt you.”

Aegon smiled wearily as his heart ached at the hollowness of Aemond’s words. “You won’t harm me.” Aemond bit his lip so he continued. “And it will make me feel safe to have you close.” You have always made me feel safe. And you will not wish to deprive me. It should also give you a sufficient reason to act upon your own desires. You were already half in my bed as it stood.

His own eyes blissfully slid closed as his own exhaustion tried to take hold. Still, he felt it as the bed shifted as Aemond tentatively climbed in next to him. Aegon could feel the heat of him, but he wanted him closer still. We are dragons, we do best when we coil together. Let me be the one to comfort you now. Let us take comfort in each other. The road ahead approaches swifter than we would like. Let us linger in this peaceful state for a little while longer.

“Come, as we once did when we were younger.” Aegon instructed, feeling his brother’s hesitation.

A moment passed before Aemond rolled closer. His head nestled in the nape of his neck. He could feel him nuzzle briefly at the mating mark he had left – Aegon purred softly. Alpha. A strong arm crept across his chest, cradling him in. Aegon instinctively nuzzled down into Aemond’s crown, lips brushing silver silky hair. My fierce brother.

“There – much better.” Aegon mumbled pleased, and the scent of fire blanketed them both. We are dragons.

Despite Aegon’s words, another though weaker sob was torn out of his brother. Oh, Aemond.

“I thought you were going to leave me.” Aemond’s voice was strangled. As he expressed his greatest fear. Aegon hushed him and let out another low purr, feeling as Aemond finally slackened into his body. The scent of fire surrounding them. Fire cannot kill a dragon.

“I would not leave you, not if I could help it.” Aegon answered simply.

“Promise me, you never will.” It was whispered with desperation against his skin. Aegon shivered as those lips brushed his neck, while he pondered over what his brother asked of him. He swallowed. I cannot promise you this.

The silence lingered heavily between them. It was a pledge no one could truthfully make. No one was ever promised another day with certainty. Aegon wished to comfort Aemond, but he would not tell him lies. He sighed as he finally answered softly. “Balerion will one day come calling for us all, no mortal can deny him – not even ones who fly the sky.” I was cradled in his grasp. I fought to stay.

“But not now – not today.” He could hear the stubborn lilt in Aemond’s tone. Always contrary when cornered.

Aegon did not have it in him to argue.  “No, not today.” By the Gods, am I tired.

Aemond nodded once, as if the matter was settled. Aegon hummed. And if wetness slid down his neck, Aegon made no mention it of it. Still, Aemond could not let it go. Just a little bit of peace, brother. A hint of frustration rose, though he forced it mercilessly down. He has been afraid and unable to give aid. That is not in his nature.

“Should you have died…” Persistent and relentless to the very end. Aegon repressed a sigh. He loved his brother. He did. They would burn together beautifully. Sometimes, Aemond needled him to annoyance as well. Calm. Calm. Calm. Focus on the comfort.

“I know, valonqar, you need not fear me succumbing to the fevers – I have weathered them. I am right here.” Alive and breathing.

Aemond’s arm tightened once more around him. “And what if you were not – what if you are once not.”

Aegon replied. “Then you rely on Helaena, Daeron – our children – the other members of our House.”

Heavy silence lingered. Apparently, there would not be an easy reprieve after all.  

Aegon tugged Aemond’s braid once more in frustration. He forced open his own eyes. Alright. Fine. Aemond’s head shifted as they connected gazes. There was a stubborn set to Aemond’s lips as his eyes landed on them for a moment. I liked it better when they caressed my skin. I’ll like it better when they taste all of me. We haven’t even kissed.  

A pleased rumble escaped Aemond as he noticed where his eyes had landed, distracting Aegon. Finally, he spoke. “Our House must stand together, brother – there are vultures circling, vipers hiding in the grass. No doubt sea serpents will slither our way as they learn of the change in succession. Vaemond already proved that and lost his head for his offences. Corlys will be a different matter, one not easily dealt with as his nephew.” I warned Vaemond. His death is not on my hands. What did he expect?

“We are of Valyria, Aemond – we brought them with us. We are of the sky and of the sea – often intermingled. Vaemond did not wish the best for his House – for ours. But there are other matters at play – vows and oaths made and broken. And should they come – when they come – we must show all others, we are all strong dragons here.” Aemond looked away. No. He tugged on the braid again. You wished to start this conversation.

Aemond faced him once more. “And if necessary, should they denounce the salt and brine in our blood – we must make sure that they will not be able to deny the fire – the flames that burn in all of our veins. It is the dragon part that matters. We cannot let them tear us apart.” Aegon hardened his heart against those that would see them falter. We must stand together – be united.

Aemond looked strangely vulnerable. It pained him but the day would break fully soon enough. They had to be ready to face it.  “Our House needs mending – or all could still be lost. There is something far more evil out there. I have seen it in my dreams – you saw it in the hearth.”

He shivered as he remembered the Ice that had tried to overtake him – to quench his flame. “It is an ancient evil, Aemond – and it will come again. And when it does, dragons must fly the sky filled with as many dragon riders as possible for the world to have any chance to not be lost to an everlasting winter – where only the dead rule.”

“I will try.” You will do more than that.

He gave the braid another tug. “You will do it.” It is not a request.

“There is not a task you have failed at once you set your mind to it – where you are committed to a goal. Promise me, you will do your very best to mend bridges.”

Aemond buried his face in Aegon’s nape once more – those lovely lips brushing his scent gland. Focus. “What if my coin landed wrong. I have hatred in my heart.” Aemond continued, almost mumbling it in his skin.

Aegon sighed as bits and pieces of a conversation rolled out of his memory. “You are not Maegor come again, valonqar.” He raised a hand, to card through the loosened strands of Aemond’s braid – offering comfort and affection. Those lips brushed his skin once more.

“Daeron…” There was a hurt quality to Aemond as he spoke. No one could ever wound a dragon, as only another dragon could.

Aegon kept carding his fingers for a few moments longer, until his hand stilled – cupped around the back of his brother’s head.  His fingers found the leather strap of his eyepatch. He weakly tugged it off and let it drop beside them.

“I heard Daeron and you quarrelling, when I was lost to my dreams.” Aegon admitted softly. Aemond stiffened. “I know it came from a place of fear, but you cannot break each other’s hearts. You are his lekia, he is your valonqar. The words he spoke were meant as guidance. Where do we stand if we cannot rely on those we should closest in our hearts? It was frightening for me to hear you tear at each other, as afraid as the two of you surely must have been as you watched me battle death.” He felt a hesitant nod against his neck. “But we need to be strong dragons, Aemond – together, all of us.”

Aegon hesitated for a moment before allowing a painful truth out, his eyes flicking briefly to where he knew another dragon lurked. Aemond must not be aware he is there. He must be truly exhausted. “They did us a disservice – and it has been a lifetime of hurt and fear – accusations and slights.” Aegon’s voice wavered. “But it must end. Aren’t you tired?” He questioned.

“I know, I am.”. If Aegon could, he would sleep a lifetime. But then I would miss out on living.

The question lingered in the air. He felt Aemond breathing into his neck, lips brushing his skin far too little for Aegon’s liking, but they were not in the position or mindset to do much but rest – if only Aemond would settle. Those lips feel divine. No! Focus.

“You cannot steal a dragon.” Aemond spoke suddenly, voice so hard Aegon startled a bit.

“No. You cannot.” Aegon finally acknowledged. He waited. He knew Aemond was not finished. There is much hurt to smooth away – and not all of it can be done by me.

“He never – I lost my eye.” There was trembled anguish to Aemond’s voice. What do I say to that?

 “I remember I nearly died from infection afterwards. He never came. Not for me, not for any of us – but when you were finally lost to your fevers, then he sat beside you. And part of me wondered – if we lose Aegon, will he truly mourn him? Will he continue to push for her claim, even with the bite and your proclamation?” Would he support you, is what you mean? In the end, it all boiled down to this. Does he hold any true love for any of us in his heart?

“I will speak with him.” Aegon said firmly. There were things that need to be said.

“I...” Aemond hesitated.

Aegon hated the continued wavering quality of Aemond’s voice. There should be joy in this moment – in this place – and yet, there was also an ocean of pain that stretched between them. Aegon knew the hurt of it well – it was a joined one, after all. But perhaps, Aemond had also now wondered, in light of his being named the next king – if their father would look at him and judged him unworthy.

“I have much to say. You can speak with him if you wish as well, but I will speak with him first. Things must change – it is not only us that must do so. We have a long road to travel – a seemingly endless sky to fly – but we will do so, together.” At least in that, his Grace would be content.

“I would have flown Vhagar for your claim, if you had asked me.” Aegon winced and wondered what Daemon would make of it all. Aegon also remembered his dreams. We’d have all been monsters before our ends – save for the children, and they would not have been spared.

“And dragons would have fallen once more out of the sky – then perhaps, we’d all have been like Maegor. Be glad, it was not necessary.” Aegon whispered The Gods have given us another way. My children will live long and happy lives – and other children will follow.

Aemond’s hand travelled to Aegon’s belly, as if he had heard Aegon’s very thoughts. His fingers splayed wide there protectively once more, as Aegon remembered Aemond doing as he woke. Did you think of them – of our future pups? Baelor and more.

Aemond caressed his belly gently. “He gutted Queen Aemma for a son.” She died screaming. He shied away from those memories.

Aegon tensed as Aemond continued. “But when he finally had them, when he finally had us – he – he… I do not know if I have it in me, lekia.” When he finally had them, he left them exposed.

Grief took hold of Aegon. When he had us, it suddenly mattered more that we were not of Aemma. Aegon thought but did not say. I suppose there is nothing we could have done to make up for that. Perhaps he even resents us for it. Aegon pressed his eyes closed, fighting against exhaustion and useless tears. None of us asked to be born – not we – not Rhaenyra’s children. Why is it that we – they should carry the burdens of the choices their elders had made. I have never done so with mine.

“I know, valonqar, I know – sleep, you are exhausted.” Aegon forced out. “We can speak more later.” Let us sleep.

“Do you think less of me, that now the fear of losing you has lessened – the first thing I speak of is hatred, rage.” Aemond asked.

Aegon sighed but relented. “No.”

“No?” Aemond asked, as if he was uncertain that Aegon spoke the truth. As if I have the energy to lie.

“No. Do you think I do not feel it? Because I do. But we must be better, Aemond. The Gods have given us a gift – we must not squander it.”

“You could still be king.” Aemond spoke it into his ear. Aegon frowned.

“Aemond?”

“What Daeron spoke of – is that the reason you choose me? I would not have you resent me, lekia. If you thought you would not live to be king yourself. That is what you must have thought when you forced yourself to the throne room.” Have I only chosen you because I had no other choice, you mean?

“No. No, Aemond.” He tugged at his valonqar’s braid until they finally locked gazes. One sapphire glistening with the reflection of the morning glare – the other eye, filled with fear – doubt – exhaustion – love and perhaps madness. As if Aemond had been pushed to the edge of his endurance and his sanity – of what his mind and body could bear. Yet Aegon would not let this treacherous thought take root or let the choice he had made be reduced.

He spoke slowly but insistingly – as if to convey Aemond of the true nature of his words. “I chose you because even without the dreams, I knew you would make a fine king.” Something crumbled in that beloved face – a fear soothed; a nagging gnawing question put to rest perhaps. Aemond looked away. You will be a glorious king. Aemond, first of his name, will be remembered as nothing less.

Aegon tugged the braid again to have Aemond’s eye on him once more. You need to hear these words spoken. “And I choose you as my mate because I would have no other.” Aemond inhaled sharply. His gaze boring into Aegon – the intensity of it heady. “I wish for no other to have me and give me children. No other but you.” Aegon licked his dry lips to wet them, Aemond’s eye dipped to it. Aegon felt heat curling in his belly at the attention.

“When I hoped to present Omega Royal when I was younger, even then the only one I could dream to burn with was you. It has always been you.” He finished simply.

They stared for a moment – an eternity. The intensity between them growing – until it surely had to explode. Aemond looked at his lips once more and Aegon cradled his jaw, watched as Aemond leaned into it. When his brother asked him a question – with his eyes – both sapphire, glinting with sunlight, and amethyst, burning with Valyrian fire. Aegon could only give himself over to it – to Aemond. Anything you want. Anything you wish for within reason. And this no hardship. I have dreamed of it – now I will have it. And you too.

Aegon encouraged his brother with sweet words of consent. “Go on. I want you to.” It lingered in the air, all but breathed out with growing anticipation.

Aemond finally rose to half cover him as he supported himself on his elbow, now leaning over Aegon. Safe, he always makes me feel so safe. Slowly, Aemond lowered himself until he – devastatingly gentle – brushed those impossible soft lips against Aegon.

Aegon moaned softly into the kiss. Alpha.

Aemond inhaled sharply, his forehead resting on Aegon for a moment – before a more insistent kiss followed. Aemond’s hand moving to his hip – his touch lighting a fire in his veins. Yes. More. A fire that would rage inside him if he let it. Lips moving against lips, Aemond’s tongue finally dipped into Aegon’s mouth when he parted them eagerly. I want more. Yet frustratingly, his body could not yet follow where his ardor willed it to go. And Daemon is still watching. Some part of Aegon recalled faintly. So, with regret, he still gentled the kiss and finally drew back.

Both of them were panting – and that of mere first kisses. There would be more to follow. Aegon consoled himself. Many more. And it looked as if his brother – a previous paragon of virtue - would take no issue with that, as he looked at him as if he were starving. A dragon having scented his prey – though most willing I will be to be devoured.

Finally, Aegon knew that if they were to get any rest in the limited time still granted to them, it would fall to him to evoke it. He is too stubborn to admit defeat, but he will not deny me should I ask for reprieve now. The most pressing matters were handled. The rest could wait. And Aemond and he both need to rest.  His brother’s exhaustion was made evident, as he watched Aemond tremble to hold himself up. Aegon urged his brother down, as his head laid on his chest facing up at Aegon – over his heart, beating with Valyrian fire in his blood. Aemond blinked slowly. Aegon gave in the urge to yawn slightly – after which he watched Aemond’s brow furrow. Yes, let us rest. I am so fucking tired. And they’ll call on us far too soon. At least, I’ll also have the comfort of you – of Helaena and Daeron – the children.

Aegon thumbed the scar that bisected his brother’s eye. His other fluttered at Aegon’s touch. After a soothing purr, he spoke “We will burn together – and be happy, as you told Daeron. I know you would not hurt me. I have always known that. You have always made me feel safe.” My beautiful dragon. One I can now openly claim. Not even the cunts of the Seven would have any cause to object to it – though no doubt, they’ll soon find something new. Fuckers.

Aemond’s hand moved back to his belly – yet again, his touch gentle and tender – the movement unseen by the bulk of his brother’s body obscuring it. “I would never choose to do as he did.”

Aegon nodded, as he relaxed further into his bed. “I know – or else I would not have placed the crown upon your head. You will not be Maegor or Viserys, Aemond, you are not mad nor weak. You will be a great king; I have seen it in my dreams. We will unite our House and you will not have to bear the weight of the crown alone. You will be supported on all sides, and you will heed our counsel and not push away the ones who only wish to aid you. We will do it all together.” A House united. And a sky filled with dragons. I know it will be hard, but we can do it. Say it.

He waited for a moment, until a tired reply finally came.

“Together.” Aemond spoke.

Aegon closed his eyes in relief and let out another soothing purr, lulling them both towards slumber. The chamber was silent save for the sound of their inhalations – synchronizing as they lay coiled together. He could feel Aemond’s body slackening as he finally gave in to his desperate need for sleep and took comfort at being so close to Aegon. Aegon continued on softly, as not to divert Aemond of giving himself over to sleep. “We are dragons, not towers – our words are fire and blood – our colors red and black.” Not green – I’ll ban the cursed color if I have to. It will be red and black – and golden, for my Sunfyre.

“Dragons.” It was a mere mumble. Aemond’s amethyst eye was now closed.

“Sleep, I am here.” Aegon murmured. You do not have to stand guard. Balerion has granted me life.

“Do not leave me.” It was lowly uttered – the words drawn out, as if it took great effort on Aemond’s behalf.

“I am here.” Aegon reassured him. Sleep.

And then true silence reigned. Before he too allowed himself to succumb, his gaze slid tiredly over to Daemon, whose own tears were trailing down his face. We are dragons, you and I. He sighed as he brushed a kiss to a sleeping Aemond’s forehead, as he thought on the words they had spoken. Some were perhaps more damning than others, but they were naught but the truth. Painful, but still true. We will have to work together – to keep their House from burning after all. All of them would have to work towards a brighter future.

“Together.” Aegon offered plainly.

A distinct nod was his only answer. His eyes gratefully slid closed. No other words were spoken.

Aegon joined Aemond in sleep – coiled together, with the comforting scent of their joined fire covering them – safe.

.