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Chapter Text

Rhaenyra was never meant to ascend the iron throne, she was never born for it, nor was she ever prepared for it.

All the years of her childhood and eventual girlhood were spent watching her dearest mother toil with carrying child after child, losing child after child, burying dead children, all in an attempt to give birth to the son her father wanted.

The son who would be his heir.

She never considered it, never imagined herself on the throne created by the fallen enemies of her ancestor, Aegon the Conqueror.

She always knew that even if her mother failed to bring forth an heir, her uncle would be next in line.

Her uncle, Daemon Targaryen, the rogue prince, the rider of Caraxes, the man that every person in the realm loathed with their very being or adored to the moon and back, because just like everything else in her uncle’s life, there was no middle ground, there were only extremes.

So, imagine her surprise when at the tender age of four and ten, her father chose to name her heir.

She was frightened, she was scared beyond belief.

But it was her duty, and as she later came to learn, like everything worthy in his life, she had to earn her inheritance.

She wouldn’t have fought her father’s decision had he named her brother the heir in favour of her. After all, the precedent was clear, the seven kingdoms were to be ruled by a male monarch, no matter how they presented.

But her father remained firm in his decisions and a decade passed.

Before she knew it, she had four siblings who shared her blood, four sibling she didn’t have a relationship with because their mother would much rather poison them against her, would much rather fill them to the brim with stories of how she would eliminate her own siblings to cut off any challenge to her succession.

She always knew when the time came, that knives out come out, that her succession would be challenged, as informed by princess Rhaenys. Because the lords who swore oaths to her were either too old or too dead, and the time they had sworn featly to her, there wasn’t a true born son named Aegon Targaryen.

‘’Men would sooner put the realm to the torch, than see a woman ascend the iron throne.’’

She knew that it would be too late to create a new order once she became queen, she had to do something now.

Therefore, she prepared, simply because there was nothing else to do so in the years following up to this moment.

Firstly, she took her rightful place as the princess of Dragonstone, the ancestral seat of the heir to the iron throne.

Secondly, she gathered as many allies as she could, reaffirming the loyalty of the Lords once they took their seats after their fathers.

Thirdly, by marrying her uncle, because as much as she enjoyed the platonic love she shared with Laenor, she needed a strong consort by her side, someone who would stand by her, someone who wasn’t afraid to spill blood on her behalf.

fourth, by making use of the wild dragons on the dragonmount, which were currently her greatest asset, two additional dragons in combination to the beasts which were currently bonded to her immediate family.

Seasmoke and Sheepstealer.

‘’Dreams didn’t make us kings, dragons did.’’, her husband reminded her, on more occasion than one.

She could not take credit for this ambitious scheme, for it rightfully belonged to her son and heir, Jacaerys, who had spent countless days vetting the common folk who carried Valyrian blood in their veins, and choosing two of them who proved themselves loyal to her cause.

Two who were ready to give their lives for their princess and future queen.

Addam of Hull and Nettles.

She had to admit, despite the disastrous event that was the dinner her whole family had shared in Kings Landing, she had hope that everything would be all right, that despite everything that had occurred between them, Alicent would accept her as her queen when the time came.

She had more than enough reason to believe so.

‘’I raise my cup to you and to your house, you will make a fine queen.’’

That toast combined with the tender moment they shared, the touch Alicent had granted her, that smile.

That damned smile.

It was something she couldn’t stop thinking about, not even now, as she stood by the painted table, listening to her husband’s plans while caressing her pregnant belly.

As horrible as it sounded, the news of her father’s demise was something she had been expecting, because as much as she wished for her only parent to live a long life, she was aware that Viserys’ days were limited, considering how worse his condition had gotten the last time she saw him.

The news of the usurpation was also expected, her husband had conditioned her to believe so for all the years they married and nurturing their family alongside the political scheming.

Both news took a toll on her, and for a moment, she thought she might lose the babe, but Daemon was there as always, holding her hand, fighting for her cause.

‘’We cut off the west, surround Kings Landing with the dragons, and we can have every green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.’’

Rhaenyra nodded, leaning over the table and looking at the pawns with determination, knowing full well that that it was time for her to rise, to prove to everyone that her father didn’t name her his rightful heir for nothing.

‘’An appropriate course of action, husband, but I would rather keep the green heads on their shoulders where they belong,’’ she smirked, ‘’after all, it would be such a waste, watching that beautiful face rot.’’

His husband gave her an all-knowing smile while the rest of the lords, nobles and knights alike shared a look of confusion, wondering what or who she was referring to.

Nevertheless, there was no time to sit idly, not when her brother had been crowned so publicly.

In the dragon pit, with the conqueror’s crown, the conqueror’s sword, the conqueror’s name. All valid symbols of legitimacy carefully constructed to bolster his claim.

What utter bullshit.

She took a look at everyone standing by the table, meeting each person’s eyes before giving out swift orders.

‘’If we are to take over Kings Landing, we must ensure my siblings never have a chance to reach their dragons,’’ she looked at Lucerys and Addam, ‘’Ser Addam and prince Lucerys will both ride their dragons and ensure Vhagar’s solitude remains unbroken, the beast will not attack unprovoked.’’

She the ways of the creatures of old Valyria well, even the largest dragon in the world will not harm her son or her trusted knight without compulsion from her rider.

Both Addam and Lucerys exchanged and look with each other before answering in unison.

‘’Yes, your grace.’’

She looked at Nettles next.

‘’Meanwhile, Nettles will be in charge of securing the dragonpit. Make sure the dragons remain chained, you are permitted to burn the dragonkeepers should they attempt to disobey. You are to hold your positions and wait for my command.’’

Nettles nodded; her hands clasped behind her.

‘’Yes, my Queen.’’

‘’My husband and my heir shall ride alongside me, we shall fly over the Red Keep, let everyone know the rightful queen has returned to claim her throne.’’

‘’And what of the enemies residing in your castle, your grace?”, maester Gerardys inquired, concern clear in his voice.

She looked at Daemon and smiled, ‘’Daemon, your lower men in the city watch, are they as ready as you claimed?’’

Daemon nodded.

‘’They shall fall on their sword should you command it.’’

She hummed.

‘’I do not want their lives, I want them to secure persons of interest in the Red Keep, namely my siblings and the Hightowers.’’

Daemon gave another firm nod.

‘’It shall be done your grace.’’

‘’The lady Baela and princess Rhaenys shall remain here,’’ she looked at her step-daughter and the princess, to let her know that her role was as important as any others, ‘’you are to protect Dragonstone in our absence,’’ she sighed, ‘’Lord Corlys, I thank you for your support.’’

The Velaryons nodded and she looked at everyone around the table one last time.

‘’My ships sail at your command, your grace.’’, The Velaryon Lord assured.

The pieces were in place, and by the mercy of gods, she would have her throne sooner than late.

After all, this is what she had been preparing for the majority of her life.

‘’We ride on the morrow,’’ she smiled, ‘’go to it then.’’

**

She took a walk on the beach with Lucerys and Jacaerys, mere hours before they were to ride for Kings Landing.

The danger was present, she was well aware of that, but she had been preparing her boys from the first day they moved into Dragonstone. She knew that both of them understood the stakes well.

She also knew that both of them would perform their duties without fail.

‘’Both of you are aware of what will happen once I retake my throne, and I know both of you gave you acquiescence for the good of the family,’’ she started, looking at both her boys, ‘’but I must assure you, there is still time to refuse, should any of you wish it.’’

Both of them smiled at each other before Jacaerys answered.

‘’I have no qualms with it mother.’’

‘’Neither do I.’’, Lucerys added.

Maybe she was wrong, maybe it was because of the sunshine, but she could make out faint hints of blush on both their cheeks.

Must be her imagination.

Nevertheless, she surged forward and pressed a kiss on both their heads, giving them a smile full of pride and joy.

‘’I’m proud of you, both of you.’’

**

The day queen Rhaenyra Targaryen rode for Kings Landing could be described as nothing but the success it was.

The people of the capital kept their necks craned; their gazes firmly set on the skies as three dragons soared through the air.

It was a show of force, a show of power.

Vermax, Jacaerys Velaryon’s dragon, was a sight to behold in all its green glory, with the heir to the iron throne sitting atop it.

Caraxes, Daemon Targaryen’s dragon, took it upon himself to roar as loudly as it could, his high-pitched scream ensuring that no one was uninformed of their descent.

And lastly, Queen Rhaenyra’s Daragon, Syrax, was the very picture of grace and beauty, a mount befitting the Targaryen woman who rode it.

At that moment, everyone in Kings Landing knew.

Rhaenyra had come for her throne.

**

She entered the Red Keep with her entourage consisting of her husband, her firstborn and the many knights who had already sworn fealty to her.

There was no time to waste, and her advance remained true, making sure her steps never faltered as she made her way to the throne room.

The throne room, which now had her siblings and the green queen in the clutches of the men that were loyal to her husband and her.

She couldn’t help but sigh, and standing there, looking at her family, looking at the people who usurped her throne, she could only pray that her long laid plans would come to fruition.

She looked at all of her siblings first.

‘’My dearest sister and brothers,’’ she looked at Alicent next, ‘’My lady, as I understand it, the lot of you have been quite busy in my absence.’’

‘’Rhaenyra,’’ Alicent started immediately, her expression grim, ‘’Please, do whatever you want with me, but spare my children, I implore you.’’

‘’Mother!’’, Aemond started, his eye wide at the green queen’s words.

Her brother, the false king, looked positively ill.

The only one who looked remotely unconcerned was her sweet sister, Helaena.

She couldn’t help but frown, of course the woman thought her evil.

Of course, she thought she would exterminate her own kin.

She sometimes wished she was the monster Alicent thought her to be.

It would have made things so much easier.

She chuckled.

‘’You do not have to worry, my Lady, I will bring my kin no harm,’’ she steeled her gaze, ‘’As long as they all bend the knee to me and accept the terms of my surrender.’’

She walked over to where Aegon was, as the person they had chosen to put in power, acquiring his affirmation would be most important.

‘’Brother, I am willing to forget and forgive the treasonous actions of everyone here, all you have to do is accept the offer I am making you.’’

‘’And what offer is that?”, Aemond grit out, hands fisted like he was itching to punch someone.

Not that he could.

‘’An offer of betrothal’s that will unite House Targaryen, Aegon shall be wed to Jacaerys as his consort,’’ she looked Aemond straight in the eye, ‘’and you shall be wed to Lucerys.’’

Aemond's eye widened.

‘’You can’t be serious!’’

Daemon chuckled behind her, deeply amused.

‘’Oh, but I am brother, and I’m not done yet,’’ she smirked, looking at back at Alicent, ‘’I shall take the Lady Alicent to wife.’’

Alicent’s face paled beyond comprehension, she looked like she had sentenced her to death, like she would face the chopping block in the morning.

She ignored her in favour of facing her brother, the false king.

‘’Do you accept?’’

Aegon didn’t speak a word, eyes unblinking as he looked to be staring through her, his face completely lost.

She tilted her head.

‘’.....brother?’’

Aegon finally blinked, shaking his head, speaking for the first time.

‘’...What?’’

She cleared her throat.

‘’My terms of surrender,’’ she repeated, hiding the exasperation in her voice, ‘’do you accept?’’

Aegon’s throat bobbed as he swallowed.

‘’Y-Yes, of course.’’

She briefly heard Aemond muttering curses beneath his breath and Alicent falling to her knees, but she couldn’t comprehend it over the euphoria of her victory.

She smiled.

Smiled because there was a lot to take care of, to figure out, but she had successfully taken her throne, without bloodshed and without tearing the realm apart.

And she would be wed to her childhood companion.

Chapter Text

For the next few moments, a deathly silence hung in the throne room, the admission of the victory of the rightful heir-now queen of the seven kingdoms- hanging in the air, making the fact sink into the bones of everyone that stood there.

The knights, Alicent, her husband, her heir and firstborn, and most important her half-siblings.

She took another look at all the faces there, and spoke aloud the thought which had been swirling in her head since the moment she entered.

‘’Where is Otto Hightower?’’

Otto- that vile man- was the one person she was going to behead, simply because she owed him nothing and was well aware of the way he poured his honey into her dear late father’s ear, well aware of the way he drove his young daughter- her friend- into the king’s chamber, well aware of how he had schemed since the moment her brother was born, to put him on the throne.

He would have succeeded, she mused, had she not foreseen it, had she not been made well aware of the politics swirling in Kings Landing, credit to her spies that lurked in the Red Keep. They were all nameless, unassuming figures with plain features, the last people one would think were involved with collecting information.

The only one who could persuade her to spare Otto would be her future wife- Alicent, she would gladly spare the treasonous cunt’s life as a wedding gift to her future bride.

After all, she had to earn her favour, one way or another.

She heard the clanking of armour as Ser Erryk bowed to her.

‘’Forgive me, your grace, Lord Hightower is yet to be found, the knights and men of the city watch are still on the look out.’’

She hummed.

Of course, the coward managed to escape, leaving behind his daughter and grandchildren, uncaring of what fate awaits them.

Just like a rat, she mused, a fitting description if she ever saw one.

‘’Keep looking and remain alert, inform the men in the city as well, he shan’t get past the gates of the city.’’, Daemon ordered, and she nodded, giving her acquiesce to his decision.

‘’Your grace.’’, Ser Erryk left with another bow, his armour clanking as he made his way outside.

A small sort of confusion set upon her when Helaena walked over to her, a small smile on her face, her dress fluttering about as she stopped a few feet away from him, lowering her head and bowing down with the utmost respect.

‘’My queen.’’, she greeted in a voice full of truth, ‘’congratulations on your victory.’’

It was genuine and sincere, she could find no jest, no sarcasm.

Behind her, she could see Alicent’s eyes widen, Aemond having a similar reaction, meanwhile Aegon remained as stoic as ever.

Daemon chuckled behind her.

‘’How good of you to share in your queen’s triumph, niece.’’

She walked forward, grabbing both of Helaena’s hands, wondering why she never bothered to build a relationship with her.

Granted, Alicent did keep her children away from her, but she could have tried harder.

Perhaps it wasn’t too late to mend the broken pieces of her family now. After all, that was the entire purpose of the betrothals she had set up.

She mirrored Helaena’s smile, and her words remained true.

‘’Thank you, sister.’’

**

Alicent had carried the same motto for the entirety of her life.

Honor, duty and decency.

Those were the same words, the same prayers that she had held onto when she prayed in the septs with her mother, watching her profile as she clasped her hands, her lips moving in desperate pleas for different reasons.

Sometimes her mother prayed for a long summer.

Sometimes she prayed for the stability of the realm.

Sometimes she prayed for her family.

Sometimes she prayed to appease the gods.

Sometimes she prayed for her, to make sure she lives a good life.

Her mother’s prayers had succeeded, Alicent had thought, when the King of the Seven kingdoms had chosen her to be his wife.

‘’I intended to marry, the Lady Alicent Hightower, before springs end.’’

Though she could not deny the fact that as pleasing the news was for her father, it brought her equal crushing dread.

Because she did gain a title and a husband, but the cost of it was too great, she had to give up the one person she had her eyes set upon, the one person who had become important to her since the moment she saw her.

Those beautiful silver tresses, those deep violets.

Rhaenyra was the picture of grace and beauty, and she had disappointed her.

She knew how much of a betrayal her actions were, going behind a grieving girl’s back and visiting her father’s chambers.

‘’Offer him comfort.’’, her father had ordered, and like any obedient daughter, she had obeyed.

It was the beginning of the end, she knew it very well, only she did not know how much she would actually come to regret those choices.

If only she was more brave, if only she had stood up to her father, planted her feet like a tree and refused to be a pawn in his games.

What a torment it was that she didn’t even know she was a piece to be moved about the board. She was a queen, and that made her useful, but a piece in the game of thrones all the same.

Now, as she sat in the chair of her chambers- her new prison quarters- she knew she had lost, and that her very life would be forfeit soon.

She looked at the flames burning in the hearth, providing her warmth, and yet she could not deny the fact that she saw death.

Her death.

She wondered how Rhaenyra would do it.

Perhaps she would have her hanged publicly, make a show of the fate that awaits traitors, set an example.

Perhaps she would cut off her head, separate it cleanly from her shoulders. She would ask her husband to do it, after all, he was quite skilled at beheading people.

‘’He can keep his tongue.’’

She could almost hear slash of the sword as it came for her, condemning her to her grave.

No, she wouldn’t have a grave, her head would be on spikes until it festered, she was sure of it, and Rhaenyra would look at it everyday until there was nothing but her bones left.

‘’I shall take the lady Alicent to wife.’’, her new queen had declared, but she knew very well what the ploy was. it was to make Rhaenyra seem generous, someone who forgave, someone who took her enemy into her arms.

But Alicent knew that she would be disposed of sooner than later.

It was a small sort of mercy then, that her children would be spared. They were all dragon riders, princes and princesses with Valyrian blood in their veins, highly useful assets. Meanwhile, she was a woman, and furthermore, an omega.

The door creaked open and her attention was diverted to it, she stood on her feet as soon as she saw Rhaenyra come in.

She looked very different to the image she had boasted in the throne room, there was no crown on her head. Her armour had been stripped in favour of a comfortable nightshift, loose enough so that the swell of her belly would not be visible. Her silver tresses were untangled from the war braids they had previously been in.

She almost looked like the childhood companion she had lost, a time that felt like another life entirely.

Not to mention her queen was currently smiling at her.

She bowed immediately.

‘’My queen.’’

If she had not been mistaken, Rhaenyra’s smile had faltered, she blinked and her expression went back to the same joy.

What was she so happy about?

‘’Have you had supper?’’, her queen inquired, walking closer to her.

She nodded., even though she had pecked at the feast laid before her like a bird.

‘’Yes, your highness.’’

‘’That’s good...’’, Rhaenyra’s smile completely vanished when her eyes came in contact with her clasped hands, ‘’you’ve hurt yourself.’’

She looked down at her hands and sure enough, her nailbeds were atrocious, bloody with torn skin.

She hadn’t even realised she had been picking at her skin all this time.

Rhaenyra took out a handkerchief and took her hands in hers, more care and tenderness than she might have expected from a woman who hated her, her pale fingers softly cleaning the blood off her.

‘’Thank you, your grace.’’ She murmured, not knowing what else to say, tearing away her eyes from that beautiful face as it glowed in the golden hue of the fire.

‘’You don’t have to call me that, you know.’’, Rhaenyra remarked, eyes still down, her lashes fluttering as she focused on the task of cleaning her hands like it was the most important topic of her day.

‘’What would you have me call you?’’

Rhaenyra looked up, smiling again for some reason, and her heart nearly skipped a beat, having her so close, her scent of violets wrapping around her like a comfortable embrace.

‘’Rhaenyra,’’ she answered without any hesitance, a hint of enthusiasm in her voice, ‘’like you used to do.’’

It was right, in the many hours the two of them spent as young girls, the princess had told her to forgo all formalities when they conversed. She found it inappropriate at first, and surprised herself when she found out how comfortable she had become, going so far as to jest and make fun of the only daughter of the king, not being worried that the girl might have her beheaded for her insolence.

But all of the was over now, wasn’t it?

She did not answer and Rhaenyra let go of her hands, making her curse herself for how she missed the warmth.

‘’Please, sit.’’, the black queen urged, and she complied.

She still did not speak, and kept her eyes on the flames. She could see the alpha staring at her from her periphery and tried not to squirm under her gaze.

The woman was likely thinking of the best way she could send her to the Seven hells.

Rhaenyra sighed, and spoke up, breaking the silence they had been sitting in.

‘’Your father.....’’

She perked her head up at that, looking at her.

‘’Has he been found?’’, she inquired with dread, the man would probably be the first one who would be executed, and she would follow.

Rhaenyra shook her head.

‘’Not yet, we believe he made a successful escape.’’

She didn’t know what to say to that, whether be glad for it or pray for her father’s safety.

Or maybe she could beg Rhaenyra to spare him.

No, she wouldn’t even try, it was hopeless.

‘’Why did you do it?’’, Rhaenyra inquired in a small voice, ‘’why did you crown your son? Especially after toasting that I would be a good queen.’’

She looked up, expecting to see righteous fury and rage on the queen’s face, a fire in her eyes that would burn her to her very core, telling her that she would regret all her actions.

But she witnessed nothing of the sort, instead, there was something akin to hurt and melancholy in Rhaenyra’s face, and she didn’t know why.

The only answer was the truthful one.

‘’Viserys told me he wished for Aegon to be king.’’, she answered plainly and Rhaenyra leaned forward, caressing her belly, curiosity clear in her voice.

‘’What exactly did my father say to you?’’

She took a deep breath.

‘’He said that the dream was clear,’’ she thought over her dead husband’s mumblings, ‘’something about a prophecy, but he did take Aegon’s name, that he had seen him wearing the conqueror’s crown.’’

Rhaenyra leaned back, the tension seeping from her shoulders as she looked down at her belly, smiling.

‘’Thank you for telling me.’’

She couldn’t make heads or tails of the situation; therefore, she finally asked the question gnawing at her.

‘’Why do you want to marry me?’’

Rhaenyra raised her brows.

‘’Why not?’’

‘’You cannot be serious,’’ she muttered, ‘’you cannot actually want this, not to mention the faith won’t accept this marri-’’

Rhaenyra hummed, a chuckle escaping her, interrupting her.

‘’Ah, yes, the Faith,’’ she spit out, amusement in her voice, ‘’Aegon the conqueror took two wives and yet the septons accepted them, I cannot see why they would have a problem with our union.’’

She looked down, worrying with her fingers again, rubbing away some of the dried blood.

‘’And I do want this.’’, Rhaenyra whispered, all too loud in the quiet of the room, silence only filled by the occasional crackling of the hearth.

‘’Why?’’, she whispered back, and the queen moved into action, standing up and approaching her.

She put her guard up at that, but couldn’t find the strength to stand up.

When Rhaenyra’s hand reached out, the last thing she had expected was for her to gently tuck away a strand of her hair behind her ear, the touch so feather light that it threatened to make her melt.

‘’I think you should ask yourself that.’’

Those were the only words Rhaenyra uttered before walking out of her chambers, once again leaving her within the isolation of the four walls that surrounded her.

She retired to a night of restless sleep and endless thoughts, the phantom touch of those fingers still on her skin.

**

When Rhaenyra walked out of her future wife’s chambers, she found her husband patiently waiting for her, leaning against one of the walls of the hallways, eyes focused on the hilt of Dark Sister that never left his person, not since the tense news princess Rhaenys had delivered.

She could only smile, affection blooming in her heart at the fact that she had this loyal man on her side, and would soon have another wife to call her own.

She still couldn’t stop herself from recalling Alicent’s form. Those plush lips, the perfect brown hair that covered her head in a halo, that green dress.

She had looked so beautiful.

She shook her head and walked over to Daemon, who in turn pushed himself off the wall, greeting her by putting her hands on her swollen waist and pulling them together until the bulge of her belly-their child, the fruit of their love- was comfortably trapped between their embrace.

She melted into the touch, tucking her head into his neck and breathing in the scent of his which she knew would calm her. Daemon always smelled like spice, cloves and something underneath that completely screamed dragon.

‘’How did it go, my love?’’, her husband inquired in a hushed voice.

She took a healthy sniff of that scent before whispering against the skin of his neck.

‘’She was terrified of me,’’ she confided, ‘’she likely believes I will have her executed, or worse, assassinated.’’

Daemon chuckled, the sound setting her veins alight, moving his hands to rub up and down her arms, soothing her.

When she pulled away just enough to look at his face, the smirk only serving to amplify her desire.

Not wanting to deprive herself any longer, she surged forward and kissed him, and he responded in kind, his movements full of the love she knew he held for her.

‘’Well,’’ Demon breathed out when they separated, leaning their foreheads together, ‘’we should relieve her of her concern soon.’’

She could only manage a hum in response.

Chapter Text

Aegon never wanted the throne.

Ever since he had been a child, it was something that his very body and soul screamed, something that came as naturally to him as the sun rising and falling everyday.

He was never suited for it, he never had a taste for duty. All he ever wanted was to live in peace.

Power, station, glory, he cared for none of it, all of it could go down to shit as long he got to do whatever he wanted.

Granted, he didn’t have a particular aim in life, but that would come with time, would it not?

But no, his family-especially his grandsire and mother- had made it their mission to be insufferable, to blow things out of proportion and think of the matter of succession as a dire situation that they felt the need to correct by going against the late king-his dear father’s decree.

Because they were the servants of the realm.

What utter bullshit.

Ever since the moment he had been born, ever since he could remember, his mother’s words were a poison that threatened to take over his mind, to change his perspective.

‘’As things stand, Rhaenyra will ascend the throne and Jacaerys Targaryen will be her heir.’’, she had informed him with ire in her voice.

So? What was so wrong with it?

Clearly, his elder sister was much more suited to the role, she had years to prepare herself as the heir apparent.

But no, his mother had to be all dramatic and shit, claiming that as soon as Rhaenyra ascended the throne, their heads would be on spikes the same moment as she was crowned.

‘’Your very life could be forfeit, Aemond’s as well. She could move to cut off any challenge to her succession.’’

Again, utter bullshit, simply because there was no better word to describe her mother’s irrational woolly dreams.

That and his vocabulary never improved after the age of three and ten, because he couldn’t be bothered to attend his lessons.

One can hardly blame him, not when there were much more interesting things to occupy his time with.

Three and ten, also the same age when he presented as an omega, a news that disappointed his scheming grandsire and mother, but delighted himself and Helaena all the same.

He had lived in utter fear before that, because his mother, despite claiming disgust for the Targaryen’s queer customs, had made it her life’s objective to marry him to his sister.

He loved her, he did, but not like that. The very thought made him gag.

And he knew Helaena felt the same, which is why on the night he presented, the two of them shared a goblet of wine in the privacy of her chambers and proceeded to giggle and laugh at their family’s ruined plans to join them together and make them breed.

Again, gag.

He thought it would be over after that, that his family’s scheming would stop once they realised he was an omega. Surely, despite precedent, an alpha woman with heirs was better than an unmarried omega male whose depraved ways were known throughout the seven kingdoms.

But as always, luck never favoured him and his mother and grandsire still remained intent on fighting for his claim that had no leg to stand on.

Which is why he turned to his cups and whorish ways as a form of protest, and each time his mother slapped him, his care for her intentions lessened and lessened, knowing full well that she wouldn’t treat him as a son and the apple of her eye.

Not like how she treated Aemond

His brother, who seemed to have no problems with marrying their sister, though he could tell it wasn’t because he was fond of her in that sense, it came from a place of performing his duty.

‘’I would perform my duty, if only mother had betrothed us.’’, the brat had declared, still half his height and ever the perfect son.

His brother, Aemond, the perfect twat.

The male his mother always wanted.

The person his grandsire wanted him to be.

Because his brother was everything he wasn’t.

He was an alpha.

He was a bright student.

A fearsome swordsman at a young age.

A dragonrider.

The very heir that his mother wanted to birth when she had him.

Unlike him, his brother wasn’t a disappointment.

Aemond didn’t debauch himself like he did, Aemond didn’t care for their father’s affections.

But as much as he cared, he couldn’t blame the old man, the man was literally rotting, how the fuck was he supposed to look after any of his other children?

But he was stupid, he had to agree with that.

Because the man decided to name him heir on his deathbed, something he still refused to believe because he knew his mother and she was toying with him, doing and saying whatever he could so that he would usurp that pointy throne that he couldn’t care less about.

Honestly? What’s so good about being king?

The job is thankless, the Lords are annoying, the politics are shit.

Who the fuck in their right mind would want something like that?

He was clearly missing something, not with the way his mother, grandsire and Aemond seemed so intent on putting him there.

The twat literally chased him down-ever his mother’s good soldier- and dragged him back to a coronation that he went through with blurred motions.

The same twat, who was currently pacing about the room they were locked in, occasionally pausing to glare at him with his single pointed eye.

And the worst part?

Aemond.Doesn’t.Blink.

Like ever.

Surely, he must have practiced it in front of the mirror, spending long hours on this intimidating craft.

Opting to spend the rest of his time grooming that hair of his, which even now, glided about smoothly as he paced and paced. He could deny all he wants but he was sure he used about ten different types of oils to care for it, if not more.

He took another sip from his goblet from where he was seated indolently on the sofa, wondering when his brother would finally stop that cycle of pacing and glaring at him like he was considering fratricide.

‘’You fool,’’ Aemond finally spoke up, fury clear in his calm voice, ‘’you absolute, blithering fool.’’

He snorted and chuckled, knowing that like everyone else in his family, his brother was simply lashing out at him because of their failed schemes.

Because he was easy to blame, easy to kick, slap and take out frustrations on.

Because he wasn’t worthy to be taken care of.

Because he wasn’t good enough to be treated gently.

Just a disappointment of an heir, an omega, a drunkard and known whore.

‘’Come now, brother,’’ he started in a jolly tone, concealing everything else he felt, ‘’we’re all alive, aren't we? no need to be so upset.’’

Aemond let out an annoyed huff, finally stopping his pacing and rubbing his face like he had been left with a child that he couldn’t and didn’t want to take care of.

Rude.

He had never been gladder to hear that the castle was overtaken.

His sister had used her wits and reclaimed her throne, and despite the fact that he prepared himself for the executioner’s block and blanked out of the whole time, everything seemed to have worked out.

A miracle in itself.

He would laugh in his mother’s face sooner than later.

Rhaenyra was queen, and Aemond's and his heads were firmly attached to their shoulders.

‘’Yes, we’re alive,’’ Aemond agreed, plopping down on the sofa and glaring at him again, ‘’But at what cost? Do you even know what you agreed to?’’

His brows furrowed in confusion.

He faintly recalled his sister regarding him and something about terms of surrender.

‘’What do you mean?’’, he inquired.

His brother threw his hands and leaned back in his chair, coming to the realisation that he hadn’t bothered to listen to the terms before agreeing to them.

‘’Oh, you absolute wastrel,’’ he started with exasperation, ‘’you agreed to betrothals, you halfwit.’’

Oh, that made sense.

Though this was news to him.

‘’Who am I betrothed to then?’’, he asked, taking another sip of wine.

He wondered if it was some fat country Lord, or maybe an old man who already had a few heirs of his own.

A used omega like him certainly didn’t deserve anything more than that.

No one would have him, despite his Valyrian blood.

An omega was only worth something as long as they were untouched.

His brother shook his head in disapproval, answering him with a single word.

‘’Jacaerys.’’

His eyes widened in surprise.

Well, he’ll be damned.

Or maybe he already was, considering the fact that he was to be married to his dweeb of a nephew.

Granted, he had grown out his hair since he saw him last at the family dinner, but still a dweeb.

He cringed at the prospect.

Oh gods, he’ll be queen one day.

The horror.

And to think he almost escaped the life of ruling.

He would need to join his mother in the sept from now on, pray that his sister’s rule lasts for a very long, long time and she lives a long, long life.

He shrugged, knowing very well that it was a temporary arrangement when he took two seconds to think about it.

There was no way Rhaenyra would marry her precious sons to someone like him. it was most likely a political move, to show how generous she was, to give her traitorous brother a respectful marriage and all that.

The betrothal would break in due course, for one reason or the other- he had many faults that his sister could use as an argument- and he would be left to his own, to do as he pleased.

And his nephew would marry someone who was worthy of him, worthy of being queen.

Which sparked another question.

‘’Who else then?’’

Aemond’s brows raised in question.

‘’You said betrothals, who else?’’, he inquired casually.

‘’I’m to be stuck with our other nephew, Lucerys, not to mention you gave our mother’s hand to our sister, as her second wife.’’

Oh.

Oh dear.

He threw his head back and let out a merry laugh, clutching his stomach like its contents would fall out otherwise, the wine goblet in his other hand threatening to spill from the tremors that shook his body.

It was good, maybe his mother would get off her back if his sister kept her occupied with a good time.

Gods knew she could use it, the poor repressed woman.

He knew that unlike him, his brother’s and mother’s betrothal would come to fruition.

After all, people didn’t give him enough credit, and rumours floated of the relationship his mother and sister had boasted many years ago, how the two girls seemed comely with each other, childhood companions whose hearts were joined before they tragically broke because Alicent married the king.

Rhaenyra still held fondness for his mother, despite her transgressions.

Not to mention there was no more a suitable candidate than Aemond to bolster the claim of the future Lord of the Tides. With his brother-his skills, Vhagar and everything else he brought to the table- as Lucerys’ husband, the Driftwood throne would be his without question, despite the many rumours surrounding his obvious bastardy.

Aemond frowned.

‘’I don’t see what’s so funny about this.’’

He didn’t dignify that wish a response, placing his goblet down and reaching for his cloak that laid on the side.

‘’Well, I guess I’ll leave you to your......’’, he waved his hand, not knowing how to refer to Aemond’s frustration, ‘’whatever this is.’’

Aemond’s brows furrowed in confusion.

‘’Where are you going?’’

He shrugged, clasping the cloak on his neck and securing it firmly.

‘’Out.’’, he answered dryly, not bothering to explain because his brother knew very well what he was referring to, being the person his mother often sent to retrieve him from his nightly escapades.

He needed to forget about this whole tiring day, what better place than flea bottom to numb himself and simultaneously celebrate not having to prick his arse on that pointy throne sooner than later.

‘’There’s guards at the door, you dumb fuck.’’

He chuckled, feeling light-headed from the wine already.

Good, he would pass out soon in a dirty mattress and wake up with gods knows what fluids on him.

‘’More than one way to leave this castle, brother.’’, he declared with joy.

he had discovered Maegor’s tunnels at a young age, and had made good use of them, which is why he managed to escape each time, bringing failure to his mother’s many attempts to lock him in his room.

He walked over to the fireplace and was about to turn the handle beside it that opened up the hidden door which blended into the wall, ready for whatever the night would bring him.

Only to stop in his tracks because the door to their chambers opened to reveal a very unexpected visitor.

There walking in with confident steps and a surprising straight posture was his eldest nephew, Jacaerys Velaryon, current heir to the iron throne.

And apparently now his bethrothed.

He saw his brother standing up from his seat from his periphery, his back also straight as he used his single violet to stare at Jacaerys, who stared right back.

‘’Nephew.’’, Aemond greeted curtly.

Jacaerys nodded, his face stoic as well.

‘’Uncle.’’

When his nephew looked towards him, his face immediately broke out into a giddy smile, his brown eyes glinting in the fire of the hearth, though his could not figure out why.

Was there something on his face?

‘’I thought I might look in on you both.’’

There go his plans for the night, drowning right before his eyes.

Well, shit.

Chapter Text

Jacaerys Velaryon always knew he was born for the iron throne.

After all, the very title of being his mother’s heir was embedded into him since the moment he opened his eyes to this world.

Since the moment he could begin to walk, people reminded him of his position daily, of how it was his destiny to succeed his mother.

Since the moment he could begin to talk, he was told countless times, of how the throne created by the swords of his ancestor's enemires would one day be his rightful place in the realm.

Even his grandsire saw fit to seat him on his knee when he was a mere boy, his words clear and true as they reverberated in the large hall, witnessed by all the nobles who stood there.

‘’One day, this will be your seat, lad.’’

Though the path was clear, the journey he coursed through was anything but.

He had been young when the whispers of his bastardy followed him everywhere like a shadow, the rumors reminding him everyday that his sire was not the man who was married to his mother.

It was maddening, having no leg to stand on, having nothing to say in return, not being able to deny those accusations as vehemently as his heart desired.

Because the truth was unfortunately clear for all to see, and was painfully evident to him once he took two moments to witness his reflection on the mirror, and compared it to that of the commander of the Kingsguard, Harwin Strong.

Harwin Strong, who always remained by his mother’s side, and by theirs.

Harwin Strong, who was as much a father to them but in name, just like Laenor was.

He couldn’t stand it, therefore he voiced his question at a tender age, to his mother while she clutched yet another plain featured babe to her chest.

‘’Am I a bastard?’’

And his mother-bless her heart- did not lie to him, did not seek to give him false assurances.

But instead, made sure that his thoughts were aligned on what was truly important.

‘’You’re a Targaryen, that’s what matters.’’

Therefore, he stopped caring what other thought, simply because it did not matter.

He may not have been sired by Laenor, but he was still his mother’s son, born from her womb after hours of arduous labours, something no one would dare to question.

He may not be a Velaryon, but he was as Targaryen as any, his dragon and trusted cradlemate-Vermax- proved that when he hatched for him and no one else.

The same was true for his brothers, who boasted their own dragons, princes in their own right.

And lastly, his father-Laenor- had claimed them as their own, if he did not have any qualms with it, then no else should.

He was just as much the blood of old Valyria as his uncles.

He made himself the perfect son, took care of his brothers and presented himself as the perfect prince, one whose skill and abilities left no room for question on his legitimacy.

He considered his brother his responsibility, and was as much a model for them as were his mother and Daemon.

His responsibilities were never a burden on him, but he could feel that there was a feeling gnawing at him, making him feel like there was a gaping hole in his heart, waiting to be filled.

He was his mother’s son, he had duties, to the realm and to his family, being selfish was something that never existed in his books.

All his thoughts were devoted to everyone except himself.

The crack in that wall of selfishness and duty came when he reunited with his uncle Aegon after six long years.

He had always had a fondness for him, how could he not?

After all, he was his best friend in his childhood, the only one he could talk to without fear of being judged, simply because his uncle never did and never cared no matter what he had to say. Not to mention he had the uncanny ability to make him laugh.

He had been devastated when they moved to Dragonstone, but he carried on with the belief that he would be reunited with his friend sooner than later.

So, imagine his surprise, that when he saw Aegon standing there in the throne room-all dazed and out of it- and realised that his feelings towards him were anything but friendship.

His uncle had presented as an omega, he had been aware of that fact. But his sights were pathetically frozen on him, even through the whole petition that decided Lucerys’ inheritance.

He had been giddy as they sat next to each other at the dinner table, and had been subsequently disappointed that his uncle Aemond had decided to ruin his chance at conversation with that toast of his.

The divide in their family became clear and he knew it could not go on, it would lead to disastrous consequences sooner than later.

When they returned to Dragonstone, he had immediately asked his mother to put forth a proposal, to ask for his uncle’s hand in marriage, to unite their houses once and for all.

Or that is how he posed it as, as a political move to secure her power, but he knew his motivations were more than that, he was acutely aware of it.

Luckily for him, his mother took to the idea well and further pressed upon it, by deciding to concoct a match between Lucerys and Aemond

The news of the usurpation was not a surprise, but a disappointment. Their long-laid plans came to fruition and his uncle blessedly accepted the terms of surrender.

Even in that throne room, as the omega stood there with a blank face while listening to his mother’s terms, he couldn’t take his eyes off him.

Not to mention how beautiful he had looked.

He couldn’t stop thinking about him, even now, as he sat with Lucerys and Addam in one of the chambers of the Red Keep, sharing goblets of wine to toast to their success.

His joy must have been apparent on his face, because his brother- who was slumped down dejectedly on the single sofa opposite to him- chose to comment on it.

‘’You look happy.’’, Lucerys commented and if he wasn't mistaken, there was a slight pout on his face, though he could not figure out why.

His smile never left his face as he took a sip of the wine.

‘’Aren't you?’’, he parried back, ‘’Our plan was successful, we avoided an all out war, mother is queen, not to mention we both have our future husbands secured.’’

Lucerys let out a groan of frustration and sank deeper into the cushion, his wine goblet barely touched from how full it was.

‘’I am but.....’’

‘’But what, Milord?”, Addam inquired, walking over with a goblet in one hand and a pitcher in other, he refilled both their cups before placing it on the table.

Lucerys’ pout was even more evident now.

‘’Ugh.....he hates me!’’, his little brother whined like a child, and he didn’t have to ask who he was talking about.

He merely chuckled and took another sip of his wine. In all honestly, he would have expected Luke to reject the possibility of being married to Aemond after his mother had presented him with the option, but his brother had agreed surprisingly quickly, though he had a fair idea of where that eagerness came from.

Addam shared in his amusement, taking a sip of his own and seating himself beside Lucerys, perching himself comfortably on the armrest of his sofa and placing his hands over his shoulders, providing him comfort.

‘’Ah yes...’’, the knight concurred, ‘’the lady Rhaena told me what happened at the dinner feast.’’

He immediately felt his face form into a frown at that statement.

They couldn’t afford to dwell on old miseries, especially not now.

‘’Tis all in the past now, we must forget our old grievances and move forward.’’, he declared clearly and both the men’s heads moved in nods.

He still couldn’t keep his mind off of Aegon, he wondered if he had been comfortable in his chambers, whether he had eaten, whether he had been treated well, though his mother had assured him that she wouldn’t harm her family despite their transgressions as long as they bent the knee.

Those silver hair, that adorable face, that skin which he wanted to touch and touch and caress with his lips unt-

‘’Don’t worry, Milord,’’ Addam assured Lucerys, taking a sip of wine, ‘’he’ll be besotted with you once he gets to know you.’’

Lucerys visibly perked up at that, doe eyes looking at Addam with hope.

‘’Really?’’

Addam nodded and he found his smile returning at the scene.

‘’On my honor.’’, Addam promised.

Lucerys’ joy returned and he finally took a sip of his forgotten wine.

‘’Thank you, Addam.’’

Deciding that their celebration had gone on long enough, he bottomed out his goblet with one final swig and placed it on the table.

He took a deep breath as he got up and rubbed his face.

‘’Now, if you’ll excuse me, I am leaving.’’, he declared.

He ran his fingers through his hair and looked gave his reflection on the mirror on the side a quick glance, making sure he looked presentable before making his way out.

‘’Where are you going?’’, Lucerys inquired.

He turned back and smiled at him, walking backwards towards the door, never stopping his advance.

‘’I must make my move, no time to dally.’’

Those are the parting words he left the knight and his brother with, turning back around and walking to the chambers where Aegon was with a skip in his step, hopeful anticipation and cheeriness coursing through his very being.

**

He was disappointed to find out that Aemond and Aegon had been put in the same chamber, but it was understandable.

When he entered, Aegon had already been clad in a cloak, though he could not figure out why, but it did nothing to deter what he came here for.

Good, he would stay warm as he took him out.

He took decided steps towards his betrothed until they were a few feet apart-his confused expression making him look adorable-smile never faltering from his own face as he posed his question.

‘’Uncle Aegon, I was wondering if you would take a walk with me.’’

The omega opened his mouth to speak, but Aemond beat him to it.

‘’I think not, nephew.’’

His smile vanished as he faced his other uncle, his tone even with an underlying fire beneath.

‘And why is that?’’, he challenged, ‘’He is my betrothed,’’, he reminded, ‘’Am I not allowed to seek his company?’’

He could see Aemond’s jaw tightening as he answered him.

‘’It is late at night; it is hardly proper for you two to be alone.’’

He smirked, knowing that reason was not enough to stop his motivations.

‘’I assure you uncle; we won’t be alone. My mother’s entourage will keep watch on us.’’ He smiled and looked back at Aegon, ‘’Come uncle, I must talk to you.’’

Before Aemond could have any chance to object, he took Aegon’s hand and walked them both out of the chambers, giving it a squeeze and relishing at how soft they were when compared to his calloused ones.

His uncle must have given up training with the sword, or must have been forbidden to after he presented.

**

Both of them walked at a languid pace in the darkness of the gardens. There was a chill in the air, but thankfully both of them were dressed up warm enough for the occasion.

The scene was anything but desolate, there were still people-nobles and servants alike- scurrying about along with Daemon’s men as they secured the remaining parts of the castle.

Otto Hightower had still not been found, but that would come with time.

He had to practically tear his eye away from Aegon’s breathtaking profile as he started an attempt at conversation.

‘’How have you been?’’, he inquired for starters.

His uncle must have found his question amusing, because his first reaction was to chuckle.

‘’You really wish to know?’’

He shrugged.

‘’I asked, didn’t I?’’

Aegon hummed and chuckled again.

‘’Lets see then, within the last twenty four hours, I have been chased around like a dog, fed lies upon lies about how my father wanted me to take the throne after him, then crowned against my will and subsequently deposed within hours to my feeble reign’’, he thought it over and let out an amused laugh as he faced him, ‘’oh, and have I mentioned the part where I was betrothed and locked into a room with Aemond of all people?’’

He bit his lip to prevent the laugh that wanted out at the summary of events, though he couldnt help but feel guilt at how the omega had been treated after his mother took over the city.

‘’My apologies,’’ he started sincerely, ‘’but we thought it best to keep everyone in sight until the castle was secured.’’

Aegon gave him a judging side eye before speaking again.

‘’So, we aren’t your prisoners?’’

‘’Of course not.’’, he denied immediately.

Though he conveniently ignored the presence of Ser Erryk, who had been trailing behind them ever since they left the chambers he retrieved Aegon from.

They walked for another few moments in silence before his uncle took it upon himself to break it.

‘’So, my dearest nephew, are we to walk until our legs fall off?’’

He took and deep breath and plucked up his courage.

Now or never.

He stopped in his tracks and turned to face Aegon, who mirrored his moments, confusion still set upon his face.

‘’I brought you something.’’, he declared, hiding the nervousness in his voice.

Aegon raised his brows in question.

‘’Oh?’’

He reached into the sleeve of his doublet and took out the small piece of accessory that he had kept hidden there.

It was a single silver stud, embedded with a ruby whose red was a perfect match to their house color.

He placed it in his palm and held it out for his betrothed to take, who examined it with cautious eyes, giving him a doubtful look before finally taking it from his hand.

‘’Is this for me?’’, Aegon inquired dryly.

He smiled, hope blooming in his chest.

‘’Yes, do you like it?’’, he inquired with the curiosity of a boy.

Not knowing who else to talk to, he had consulted Daemon on what was the proper way to court his future spouse.

When his step-father had told him of how he had brought a valyrian steel necklace for his mother, he knew what his choice of gift would be.

Though it was quite strange, he had expected a more fuller reaction from his uncle, not the indifference and caution he was displaying as he inspected the piece and gave his conclusion.

‘’I suppose it is....pleasing to the eye.’’

His smile widened and he let out a sigh of relief.

He would take any victory he could get.

He took the stud from his hand and dared to step closer.

‘’I noticed the piercing in your ear when we sat together at dinner,’’ he confessed sheepishly, proceeding to then look at his face intently, taking stock of his clear skin, ‘’may i?’’

He only moved into action when Aegon’s head moved into the slightest of nods.

He ignored the shaking of his fingers and gently tucked away the beautiful silver strands which covered Aegon’s ear, tucking them behind the shell to reveal an empty piercing, ready to be adorned.

He took great care as he inserted it into the opening, because no matter what anyone said, his uncle was an omega through and through, he deserved nothing but his tenderness and fierce protection in all aspects.

From this proximity, he could make out a sweet scent beneath the smell of the alcohol which his uncle seemed engulfed in at all times, he had to take great effort to stop himself from tucking his head into his neck and taking a sniff.

His alpha instincts were practically screaming at him to close the distance between them and pull him closer until their bodies were in contact.

He took his merry time, simply because he was enjoying this too much and wanted to prolong it as much as possible.

He swallowed and pulled away slightly to see Aegon frozen in place, staring at him with wide ye beautiful unblinking eyes, a slight shock on his face for something he couldn’t figure out.

Had he done something wrong?

‘’There.....’’, he whispered , taking his hands away once he was done, ‘’it suits you.’’, he remarked with honesty.

He could see Aegon’s lips part in surprise before he stepped away and cleared his throat, breaking whatever bubble they had found themselves in.

‘’It’s been a long day, I should like to rest now.’’, his betrothed said, face looking at anywhere but him.

He nodded in understanding.

‘’Of course,’’ he looked to the side where the knight watching them was stood, ‘’Ser Erryk, if you could escort the prince to his chambers.’’

Ser Erryk bowed.

‘’Yes, my prince.’’

Aegon left without sparing him another glance and he couldn’t help but be disappointed.

Maybe Daemon’s methods weren’t the most effective.

Chapter Text

Aemond Targaryen had never felt as lost as he did right now.

Since the moment he had been born into this world of dragon and politics, he knew his fate had been sealed.

Sealed as the second born son who had nothing to inherit.

Sealed as the second born son whose dragon never hatched.

Sealed as the second born son who had no place in court other than serving as the spare for the disputed heirs to the iron throne.

A dispute that had apparently been set into motion long before he had been conceived.

A dispute his mother had always reiterated would risk their lives.

That if their half-sister was to ascend the throne, her first move would be to cut off all the challenges to her succession.

A dispute he never cared about in his childhood because he had more important matters to worry about.

Matters regarding the very important fact that despite his very Targaryen looking features giving away the Valyrian blood that coursed through his veins, that he had no dragon to call his own.

Even his nephews-clear bastards- had cradle mates, and yet he didn't.

The dragon egg which had been brought to his cradle turned to stone, and by the age of eight, he knew that nothing would come out of it, no matter what he tried.

His nephews and brother took full advantage of the fact, to tease him, to make fun, to laugh at his expense.

Because in the midst of princes who all had dragons to call their own, he was an anomaly, the runt of the litter.

‘’The pink dread!’’

The dragon who was toothless and harmless.

But the most hurtful part, the part he would never admit to anyone, was that Lucerys had chosen to join in on the teasing, the only nephew he had thus far considered a friend.

His disappointment knew no bounds.

His mother was the only comfort he had in that part of his life.

‘’Aemond, you will have a dragon one day.’’

Therefore, he waited, and that day came much sooner than he would have anticipated, the precedency of its arrival more welcome than anything else.

He had a chance, and he took it.

At the tender age of ten, he claimed Vhagar, the largest dragon in the world, the very night of the funeral of its rider.

His very first flight was something he would never forget. His own blood roared as loudly as the dragon beneath him.

He was finally a true Targaryen.

Until that incident occurred.

Until people had the gall of claim that he stole a dragon like it was an object, a piece of inheritance.

‘’Vhagar is my mother’s dragon, she was mine to claim!’’

He lost an eye, and subsequently shed any and all signs of weakness inside him.

He became the perfect prince, a student of history, philosophy.

He trained with the sword, putting the best of the knights to shame.

He nurtured his bond with Vhagar, became a capable dragon rider.

The fact that he presented as an alpha only served to bolster his reputation.

For a moment, he had thought his mother would see fit to marry Aegon to him, a thought that made his stomach curdle.

But blessedly, his grandsire thought his hand would be better put to use to secure an alliance with one of the great houses.

For a moment, he had thought his mother would choose to put him on the throne, gods knew his brother wasn’t made for it.

‘’I have no wish to rule! No taste for duty!’’

Even during the coronation, he wondered what the smallfolk would thing of their majestic king, who had to be dragged there from the sept, kicking and screaming, wanting nothing to do but expel himself this whole situation entirely.

‘’Let me go, I will find a ship and sail away-never to be found.’’

But that didn’t happen, his mother was too bound to the traditions, too bound to the fact that it was the king’s firstborn son’s right to inherit the iron throne.

And if his half-sister was really going to exterminate their existence once she took the throne, he was ready to fight her tooth and nail over it.

For loyalty to his family, for the safety of his mother, his sister, and even Aegon to some extent.

He thought both sides would fight until one of them remained, he thought he would likely participate in a bloody and brutal war, and perhaps perish at the end of it, or maybe come out of it with irrecoverable losses.

So, imagine his bewilderment, when his half-sister took the throne and advocated for peace, seeking to join their houses in matrimony.

He was lost, he was completely utterly lost.

All the threats his mother had warned him about came to no fruition.

Instead, the pieces were moved so that he was now betrothed to the nephew who maimed him.

Lucerys Velaryon.

Lucerys fucking Velaryon.

The brat who had presented as an omega in the six years they had been parted.

The brat who still sought to torment him, having the gall to smirk at him as they brought out a pig.

The brat who was the future heir to Driftmark and the Driftwood throne.

He woke up that morning with many thoughts swirling in his head.

It had already been a few days since his sister had taken the throne, and he already felt the changes afoot in the castle.

However, the most maddening of them were the fact that there was a knight who followed him everywhere he went.

Officially, the man was his sworn protector, but he knew for a fact that his sole purpose was to watch his every move, and report back for any treachery, and to make sure he never set foot outside the Red Keep.

Once he dressed and set foot out his chambers, the obnoxious man only bowed like he had never left the entire night, which he probably hadn’t.

‘’My prince.’’

He only gave a hum of acknowledgement before walking down the hallway with decided steps, wanting to rid himself of the thoughts by diverting his attention to the training yard.

He only managed to walk in silence along with the clanking of armour following him for a few feet before another set of footsteps joined them.

He didn’t have to look back to recognise who it was, the citrusy and vanilla scent gave away the person’s identity.

Their soft voice only serving to increase his annoyance.

‘’Good morrow, uncle.’’, Lucerys greeted in a light hearted tone and he resisted the urge to tighten his jaw and spit out profanities.

‘’Good morrow, nephew.’’, he greeted back dryly.

Making no move to stop his advance.

His nephew, however, was undeterred.

‘’It is a beautiful day, is it not?’’

He resisted the urge to sneer this time.

He knew the brat was trying to make small talk, but he despised meaningless exchanges.

‘’Hardly.’’

Lucerys didn’t believe his half-hearted reply.

Of course he didn’t.

‘’No?’’, his nephew persisted, ‘’The cold had cleared somewhat, the sun is shining, the garden is in bloom, not to mention our fam-‘’

‘’If you could get on with what you want, nephew, it would be much appreciated.’’

Lucerys chuckled, falling into step with him.

He made no move to turn his head and meet his eyes.

‘’I was hoping you would break fast with me.’’

He smirked.

‘’What makes you think I haven’t already?’’

Lucerys hummed in thought before coming to a realisation and looking back at the knight who dutifully followed them.

‘’Has my uncle eaten already this morning, Ser?’’

His smirk faded; a scowl took its place just as quickly.

‘’No, my prince.’’

Clever brat.

He saw Lucerys smile smugly from his periphery.

He rolled his eye.

‘’Come now, uncle, surely you have no reason to refuse.’’, his nephew tried to reason.

Gods, why was the bastard so persistent?

‘’And what reason do I have to accept?”, he parried back, cursing the fact that the training yard was so far.

Lucerys remained silent for a few moments before speaking again.

‘’Perhaps I could give you a reason,’’ the brat suggested, ‘’offer you a favor in exchange for your company.’’

Now that caught his attention.

He abruptly stopped his steps and turned to look at Lucerys, who mirrored his movements and did the same, his eyes focused on him like he was the only thing worth looking at.

‘’And what offer is that?’’, he inquired, deeply curious.

Lucerys’ smile widened.

‘’What do you want?”

He squinted his eye in thought, wondering if Lucerys would actually carry it out.

He knew it was hopeless, but tried anyways.

‘’Firstly, I want this knight to stop following me.’’

He wasn’t expecting his nephew to simply nod and steel his expression before looking at the knight.

‘’Leave us, good Ser.’’, his nephew ordered, making his eye widen.

The knight looked as flabbergasted as he currently felt inside.

‘’But my pr-‘’

‘’Please,’’ his nephew insisted, a small smile now on his face, ‘’my kin shall bring me no harm.’’

The knight promptly bowed and left.

He couldn't help but wonder what sort of a trick this was.

Did his nephew really think he was safe with him?

Or had he lost all sense of self-preservation while living on that rock along with his mother and the rest of her brood?

‘’A foolish move, nephew.’’, he commented.

Lucerys still kept smiling for some reason.

Tilting his head in a way that shone his milky skin in the sunlight.

‘’Why?’’, the brat inquired, stepping closer like he had no fear, ‘’do you mean to hurt me?’’

He smirked and rose to the challenge, taking a step forward of his own, towering over him.

The days of him being ridiculed and being made a mockery of were over.

He would show his nephew where exactly he belonged in terms of power.

‘’What if I did?’’, he inquired, proud of the menace in his voice.

Menace which was apparently invisible to his nephew, who simply shrugged.

‘’I would welcome it.’’

Had the brat finally gone mad?

‘’Would you now?’’

Surely it was just an attempt at being brave, he was surely quacking in his boots in their isolation.

Surely.

‘’What do you need next?’’, Lucerys inquired.

He grit his teeth.

He hated that word.

‘’I do not need anything from you, nephew,’’ he stepped even closer, looking down at him, relishing in the way Lucerys had to crane his neck to meet his gaze, ‘’but I do want something,’’ he smirked, ‘any idea what that is?’’

He would be happy to give him a reminder, pull off his eye patch and scare him with the horrid sight, with the very mark he had left on him.

Lucerys chuckled and looked down.

‘’Well, if I had to guess....’’

Proceeding to then unsheathe the blade which hung on his waist.

He immediately but his guard up, he had enough confidence in his abilities to know that the omega couldn’t overpower him.

He wouldn’t lay his hands on him a second time.

But his nephew merely held out the hilt for him, which he took with furrowed brows.

What was he up to?

‘’And you would give it?’’, he inquired, twirling the blade in his hand.

Lucerys nodded, a look of determination replacing his previous smile.

Why was he doing this?

‘’If it sates your anger, then so be it.’’

He chuckled without mirth before he could help it.

How could he refuse the opportunity?

It was far too amusing to see how far his nephew would let him take this before begging for mercy on his knees.

In the next moment, he pushed Lucerys’ chest with his bare hand, pinning him against one of the walks of the desolate hallway, placing an arm over his neck for good measure, blocking all his movements.

His nephew gasped, but made no move to resist, if there was surprise in him, it didn’t show on his face.

He internally cursed the way that sweet scent surrounded and appealed to him.

He placed the tip of the knife on the beneath his left eye, hovering over the thin skin teasingly.

From this distance, he could make out the small freckles on his skin.

‘’Tis no small thing nephew,’’ he whispered in their close proximity, ‘’losing half of your world, having to relearn your entire life.’’

Surely the bastard’s walls would break soon.

Said bastard only moved his head in a small nod, brown orbs unblinking and transfixed as he looked at him.

Making him wonder what was so fascinating about all of this.

‘’If it makes you willing towards me, then it will be worth it.’’

He frowned.

Is that what it was?

Surely not.

He smirked, of course.

He figured out why his nephew was so confident.

Even if he took his debt, he wouldn’t get away with this, not alive.

‘’And how do I know my head wont roll for this? Hm?’’, he inquired, pushing even closer, ‘’your mother is queen, she could order my execution for harming her dear boy.’’

Lucerys smirked back.

‘’Worry not, qybor, I shall persuade her.’’

His eye widened.

Was his nephew actually prepared to go through with this?

‘’Would you now?’’

Lucerys nodded.

‘’I would.’’

He could feel the anger seeping into his voice, though he did not know why.

‘’Why?’’, he demanded.

‘’You are my betrothed.’’, Lucerys answered like that would explain everything.

What the fuck?

What the actual fuck?

He stayed silent and unmoving for a long while, the quietude all too loud in the space they shared.

Until the bastard broke it with another chuckle.

‘’Go on, qybor,’’ Lucerys urged, ‘’I’ve heard that you wear a sapphire to fill the void, must be quite a sight,’’ he mused and thought about it, ‘’perhaps I’ll do the same and wear a ruby’’, he smiled with teeth, ‘’we could have our very own collection of eye-patches, we could match at family dinners.’’

His eye widened again.

That was it, his nephew had officially lost his wits.

‘’You are mad.’’, he said incredulously.

Lucerys’ amusement drained from his face and he pushed his lithe body even closer to his, a sort of lunacy brewing in those orbs as he whispered.

‘’On the contrary, I am sane.’’

He shook his head and huffed.

This was going nowhere.

He thought he would jump at the opportunity, this was what he had wanted for so long, wasn't it?

Then why did the thought of hurting him brought him nothing?

Where was the joy?

Where was the satisfaction?

He huffed and finally pulled away from his nephew, begrudgingly returning his knife to him, which he took with surprised eyes, like he hadn’t been expecting such from him.

‘’Lead the way then.’’, he ordered, condemning himself to the fate of sharing a meal with his nephew.

The smile that graced Lucerys’ lips this time was akin to genuine merriness.

‘’Thank you, qybor.’’

He kept his face neutral, fisting his hands to hide the storm which brewed inside him, making him conflicted.

‘’I plan on taking you up on that offer,’’ he declared resolutely, ‘’sooner than later.’’

Lucerys simply nodded and walked off, confident that he would follow.

He swore this wasn’t the end.

He would have the bastard’s eye, sooner than late.

Chapter Text

Lucerys Velaryon never felt the salt running through his veins.

It was a fact that haunted him throughout his boyhood, not being able to see the resemblance with the man who was supposed to be his father.

He knew everyone else saw the truth as well, the gazes and fleeting rumours were not lost to him, even as his mother saw fit to abandon the politics of Kings Landing and take her place in Dragonstone.

The truth-which was plain for all to see, led to the petition in which he almost lost his inheritance.

Driftmark, the Driftwood throne.

He was born for it, and yet he was well aware of the lack of the blood he needed to occupy that seat.

He never wanted it, if he sat that seat, it meant everyone else was dead.

He knew no one would question his claim if he looked more like Ser Laenor Velaryon, than Ser Harwin Strong.

‘’It doesn’t matter, what they think.’’, his brother had told him.

He envied him, of how comfortable he was in his skin.

How Jacaerys never felt any conflict regarding his looks, or the circumstances of their birth, or who sired them. His brother’s ears were deaf to the rumours of bastardy, as if they did not exist in the first place.

As far as he knew, his brother was perfect.

So was his mother.

‘’I am anything but.’’, she told him, but he didn’t believe it for a second.

After Daemon saw fit to cut down a man for his claim, and after his mother’s reassurances, he knew he had to step up to the task.

‘’He can keep his tongue.’’

‘’In time, I came to understand, I had to earn my inheritance.’’

He finally understood all the sacrifices that had been made to put him in his place.

He finally understood how lucky he was.

He had a dragon hatch to him, despite his lack of Valyrian features.

He had a lordship waiting for him, an inheritance. Something which second sons like him only dreamed of.

He would follow in his perfect mother’s footsteps and do the the same, he would put his head down and prepare himself, earn his inheritance and stake his claim, just like his mother had done through years of careful planning which now ended up with her on the throne, her rightful place.

He always knew he would need a strong consort to secure his place.

Therefore, when his mother suggested the betrothal to his uncle, Aemond, he agreed.

In fact, he leapt at the chance to put things right once and for all.

Because he may be a green boy in the eyes of the realm, but his mind wasn’t clouded by the illusion that he had done no wrong.

He was the cause of the strife created between House Targaryen.

At a mere age of five, he had maimed Aemond, and broken every chance of reconciliation, and simultaneously created a barrage of problems for his dear mother.

‘’There is a debt to be paid.’’

His step-grandmother was right, an eye was owed for an eye, and he would give it.

He had a feeling, a horrible foreboding that if Aemond continued to nurse his grudge towards him, it would lead to disastrous circumstances which would lead to bloodshed.

Bloodshed which might hurt his family.

His eye was a small cost to pay.

For the sake of peace, he would give it away freely, and endure any additional hurt Aemond might choose to inflict upon him.

He would take it without complaint.

It was only then that the two of them could begin their way forward towards a future where peace prevailed.

The path to forgiveness would be long, and he was under no illusion that his uncle might even hold fond feelings for him someday, but he would hold out for as long as he had to.

He was persistent and stubborn, if not anything else.

By the end of it, he hoped an amicable companionship could bloom between them, he would thank the Fourteen flames and the Seven for it.

He did not hope for a love like Daemon and his mother’s, a love where they were destined to burn together, but he hoped that Aemond might come to care for him enough to do his duty by him as consort to Lord of The Tides.

He had to gain Aemond’s favour, no matter what.

Which is why he had spent the entirety of the last week chasing his betrothed around, making him aware of his existence, spending time with him.

Expecting to lose his eye every time the two of them spoke, no matter how brief it was.

This particular evening, he found Aemond in the training yard, a place which served as his second home at this point.

He merely stood to the side and watched as his uncle beat yet another knight into the ground like it was second nature, silently admiring the way his body moved, the way his silver tresses fluttered about and the aura he commanded when he wielded that steel with an ease he could never find.

He only approached him once the spar was over.

‘’Good evening, qybor.’’, he greeted in a joyful voice, stepping closer.

He could see Aemond’s chest heaving slightly with how his lungs worked to catch the breath he had just expended.

‘’Good evening, nephew,’’, his uncle greeted back without a shred of emotion ‘’have you come to train?’’

He couldn’t help but smile at the not-so-subtle repetition of an offer he had already extended once before.

There was a slight sheen of sweat on his face, and he couldn’t help but wonder how the rest of his skin would look if he didn’t don the garments he currently wore.

He pushed that thought away and gained back his bearings just as fast.

‘’You do not have to make excuses to take my eye, uncle. You need only ask for it and it would be yours.’’, he offered once again.

He had no fear of it, not anymore.

Aemond’s eye looked at him for a moment in silence like he was trying to peer into his intentions.

Once the alpha was satisfied, he hummed and stepped away to the stand which held the rest of the weapons.

‘’To what do I owe the pleasure of your presence then?’’, he inquired.

Unlike his words, Aemond’s voice gave no indication that his presence was a pleasure, if anything, it was quite the contrary.

It was fine, he would drain his ire soon, he would give him whatever he needed to get over his anger.

‘’I thought I might look in on you.’’

Aemond loudly put away the blunt sword he had been sparring with, not bothering to look at him as he answered him.

‘’I do not need coddling, nephew.’’

He chuckled before he could help it.

He walked closer and stood beside him at the stand of weapons.

‘’Of course not. I was merely worried as to how you were faring these days.’’

There was no lie in his words.

Aemond picked up a dagger and inspected it as he answered him.

‘’I haven’t made any moves, as you can see, though your mother's knight remains persistent as ever.’’

He smiled and gave a once over to the knight who had been appointed to his uncle.

The same had been done for his other uncles and Alicent, and his aunt Helaena.

‘’He is sworn to protect you.’’, he declared.

Aemond hummed, the sound sending vibrations down his spine.

He wanted him to do it again.

The way his uncle smiled suggested it was without mirth, he turned the dagger in his hands like he was performing a trick.

‘’He is sworn to watch over me, report my every move and ensure my imprisonment.’’, his uncle disagreed.

He brows furrowed and he stepped closer, only speaking once Aemond met his eye.

‘’Imprisonment?’’, he said with a touch of disbelief, ‘’This is your home uncle, and you are free to go wherever you please, you speak as though we have barred your chambers.’’

It was true that his mother had taken steps to ensure everyone’s compliance, but it was for their protection as well.

Aemond’s answered him in a dry voice.

‘’No, but you have barred the Red Keep, I cannot leave at will.’’

He bit his lip; it was true enough. There was a strict watch on the comings and goings of the castle.

It was a smart move, all of them were in a court of vipers, any kind of precaution was too less, no matter how much they wanted to wish other wise.

His brows furrowed in confusion.

‘’You wish to leave the castle?’’, he inqiured ‘’Where would you go?’’

Aemond scoffed

‘’Tis none of your business.’’

As if a few unkind words would set back his motivations, he was prepared for far worse when it came to his vengeful uncle.

‘’Tell me,’’, he urged ‘’perhaps I can assist you.’’

Aemond finally-finally-looked back at him, his eye flitting over his form before he graced him with an answer he wasn’t expecting.

‘’There's a smithy in the city that I favour above all else,’’, he informed, ‘’I had a sword commissioned which is no doubt forged by now and cannot retrieve it.’’

His brows raised in surprise.

Granted, his uncle’s love for weapons and sparring was nothing new, but he had never expected those interests to go as far as they seemed.

There was so much he wasn’t aware of about Aemond, the idea of learning more about him only served to excite him.

He nodded once he came to a conclusion.

‘’We can have a servant sent out to get it for you.’’, he suggested.

Aemond immediately shook his head.

‘’I prefer to look at the steel myself, provide suggestions if needed.’’

He pursed his lips and thought about it some more, he said he would provide assistance, he didn’t want his uncle to think he didn’t mean it.

He took a deep breath.

‘’All right then, I shall take you myself.’’, he declared with resolution.

A small touch of surprise washed over Aemond’s face, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

‘’What?’’

He clasped his hands behind his back, his decision was already made. He stepped closer and whispered in a low voice so that their words were only meant for each other.

‘’Meet me at the back yard in an hour,’’, he demanded ‘’there's a backdoor we can use to leave the castle walls,’’ he thought about it, ‘’that is....if you can escape the careful watch of my mother's knight’’, he challenged with a smirk.

He had already scouted the entirely of the Red Keep in his free time, he had already discovered the entrances which were unguarded at times when the knights changed their watch to switch with their counterparts.

He didn’t care about being alone in Aemond’s presence, he was likely walking into a trap.

He simply did not care.

‘’You would do that?’’, Aemond inquired like he still couldn’t believe it.

He nodded.

‘’Of course I would, though I must caution you, uncle,’’, he smiled ‘’you wont be able to escape the city and reach Vhagar, the goldcloaks have the perimeters surrounded.’’

Aemond hummed again, music to his ears.

‘’And if someone notes our absence?’’

He shrugged.

‘’We shall return as swiftly as we can manage. My mother, brother and Daemon are far too occupied to be bothered with everything that takes place in this castle.’’

Aemond smirked right back at him, a glint of something in his eye that he refused to put a name to.

He knew for a fact that he would lose his nerve if he did.

‘’An hour it is then.’’

No further words were exchanged, he merely gave a last firm nod walked away without looking back.

He could feel Aemond’s single eye boring holes into him up until the moment he turned into the hallway of the castle, feeling like a prey being stalked by his predator.

The feeling of ugly foreboding twisted his and his dread grew to an impossible degree.

He had another feeling, one that screamed at him, told him that he wont return to the Red Keep unharmed tonight, no matter how much he wished otherwise.

He fisted his hands and straightened his back.

So be it.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra paced back and forth in her chambers that night.

Her mind was completely calm, but it didn’t mean it wasn’t at work.

She had achieved victory. However, the path to peace was far from achieved.

It had only been a week since her long laid plans bore fruit and resulted in her staking her claim to her rightful inheritance.

The previous week had been spent in countless small council meetings and strategizing ways to establish her queenship along with tackling whatever services the realm required of her.

A ruler must never rest easy, Aegon The Conqueror himself said so.

Daemon-who had been seated on one of the chairs by the fireplace- saw fit to inform her of the day’s events as he always did.

‘’The preparations for your coronation are moving along swiftly, we need but a fortnight before we can properly crown you before the masses.’’

The idea of a public coronation made her frown, she wondered if the smallfolk would be amenable to being locked up in the pit again where many of their innocent lives had already been sacrificed due to Rhaeny’s bold escape.

Bold, but reckless.

The commonfolk didn’t deserve it. They had already suffered so much.

‘’Is it truly necessary?’’

‘’Yes, it is, my love. your brother's coronation was a public affair,’’ Daemon shook his head in disapproval, ‘’a hasty one, put together at the last minute but public nonetheless. We need to turn the crowd in your favour.’’

She sighed, momentarily stopping her pacing in favour of turning the rings in her hand.

Her husband wasn’t the only one who had advised her of this, hopefully a peaceful coronation would serve to give the people an inclination of the times forward.

There was a time-when she had been a little girl-that she thought the opinions of the common people didn’t matter, but those presumptions were dangerous. She knew very well how formidable they could be if they united together.

She nodded, having made her decision.

‘’Very well.’’

Daemon crossed his legs, leaning backwards into the cushion, like he was satisfied with her acquiescence.

‘’And we should have Alicent crown you,’’ Her husband continued ‘’it would be a show of the unity you seek to present, though I don’t agree with it.’’

Once again, it was a logical suggestion.

Though Alicent had been compliant in the last week, she would still need to gain her will to do so before she agreed to have her do such a thing.

She didn’t want to force her, not now, not ever.

As always, she was helpless when it came to her childhood companion, she did not wish to displease her.

Not to mention she could hardly wait for their union, it was the only comfort she had during these days filled with endless toils as she dealt with problem after problem.

That and the support of her husband and family, who saw fit to fret over her and her condition.

‘’What of Otto Hightower?’’, she inquired a few moments later.

She started her pacing again as Daemon have her the rundown, hands caressing the swell of her belly, delighting in the occasional movements of her babe letting her know that even in isolation, she would never be alone.

‘’As you know, we scaled the entirely of the castle our first night here, but the rat escaped,’’ Daemon informed with ire dripping from his voice ‘’My men in the city watch have kept an eye out, but it is safe to presume that he was successful in weaselling his way out the capital.’’

She nodded, though the fact made a strange sort of foreboding twist her guts.

She didn’t like it.

‘’Where do you think he retreated to?’’

Her husband shrugged like he couldn’t care less.

‘’Wherever it is that rats hide.’’

She sighed and once again halted her pacing, meeting her husband's eyes.

‘’Daemon.’’, she chided in a soft voice.

‘’Look, it doesn’t matter, where he is.’’’, Daemon dismissed with a wave of his hand, ‘’He is but a single man with no power to his name, and on the rare chance that he does manage to rebel and raise an army,’’ he smirked, ‘’I shall ride out with Caraxes and have a word with him.’’

She smiled before she could help it.

She was completely sure that her husband would lay down his life for her if it came down to it, that he would sacrifice himself if it ensured that her enemies and threats are vanquished.

Her heart blooming, she walked over and held her hand out, which Daemon took with a calloused one of his own and stood up, his devilish smirk that she loved so much turning into smile that set her insides ablaze.

She leaned their foreheads together and Daemon ducked down to meet her, his arms coming at her waist.

She placed a small peck on his lips and smiled.

‘’My knight in shining armour, what would I do without you?’’, she inquired, relishing in the throaty chuckle her husband let out, the sound only serving to make her heart flutter.

‘’My queen.’’

Oh, and how delicious that word was, especially when Daemon regarded her with such reverence, like she was the Mother herself and was being worshipped by her most devoted follower.

The large hands on her waist came to rest directly on the swell, moving up and down, rubbing in a way that made her sigh in contentment before she could help it.

‘’How fares our little girl?’’, Daemon inquired in a whisper.

She let out a breathless chuckle.

‘’You're so sure its a girl.’’

She had given birth to five boys thus far, but she had no reason to believe that she was with a girl this time.

Nothing was different, but she desperately hoped that Daemon was right, she prayed it would come true.

Prayed that she would be blessed with the girl she always wanted.

‘’She is my blood, of course I'm sure.’’

The surety in her husband’s voice compelled her to not answer with words, but with actions.

Before she knew it, their lips were joined together in a kiss that brought back everything she felt for this man. She circled her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, wanting to meld their bodies together.

Daemon responded just as eagerly, pushing in and deepening the kiss like he wanted to consume her, and she let him.

Their kiss broke, but her husband’s advance remained true, peppering small but wet kisses from the corner of her lips, moving to her jaw and then to her neck.

She tipped her head back and bared her neck for him, giving up her skin as a naked canvas, closing her eyes and just focusing on feeling those soft lips.

‘’Daemon...’’, she breathed out his name as the heat spread throughout her body, the same dragon fire that bound them together covering every single inch of her skin.

Daemon hummed out his approval against the skin of her neck, the sound sending shivers and goosebumps from the tip of her fingers to the toes of her feet, threatening to make her legs weak and fall right then and there.

She didn't care, Daemon would catch her in time.

Both of them were broken out of their lust ridden stupor when the door to their chambers was knocked consecutively, like the person behind it was desperate to meet them.

Daemon detached himself from her neck and let out a frustrated groan while still keeping her in his hold.

‘’Fuck’s sake....’’, her husband muttered beneath his breath.

She chuckled at his behaviour and gave him a short peck on his lips as consolation before pulling away from his arms.

‘’Come in.’’, she said loudly enough for the person behind the door to hear.

Granted, the hour was late, but she hoped it wasn’t a matter of urgency.

The door opened to reveal her trusted handmaiden, who looked visibly guilty about disturbing them at this time of night.

‘’What is it Elinda?’’, she inquired once the lady refused to speak.

‘’Your grace,’’, she started, her throat bobbing as she swallowed ‘’prince Aemond and prince Lucerys have just returned from the city.’’

Her brows furrowed in confusion.

What?

‘’The city?’’, Daemon spoke up from behind her, looking at the poor maiden with a glare like he was about to throttle someone.

As if it was even possible, Elinda’s face became paler and paler by each second that passed.

She had a horrible feeling that something was wrong, though she desperately hoped otherwise.

She had known her sweet boy had been spending time around Aemond, but she didn’t see a problem with it. they were betrothed and Lucerys had assured her that he would reconcile with his uncle before they wed.

Not to mention she had appointed a knight to accompany Aemond and keep a sight on his movements.

She walked forward and took Elinda’s hands in hers when she didn’t clarify for long moments.

‘’Speak plainly Elinda, what is wrong?’’, she urged.

The way Elinda’s eyes became glazed let her know that something was, in fact, horribly wrong.

‘’I’m sorry my queen’’ she apologised, but she didn’t know why, ‘’but the prince Lucerys,’’ she took a ragged breath, ‘’he has been injured severely and is currently unconscious.’’

Chapter Text

Lucerys could do nothing but follow Aemond as the he walked through the busy streets of King’s Landing with practiced motions.

His confident strides and the ease with which he moved and snaked around the oncoming and outgoing crowd gave away the fact that he had done this many times before, and was used to it.

It was almost a surprise that his little scheme of escaping the Red Keep worked as well as it did-he had taken full advantage of the small time the knights left the back door unguarded as they changed their shifts.

And before he knew it, here they were, clad in their hooded cloaks which served as the perfect disguise for them to blend in with the smallfolk.

Granted, his plain features needed no covering up, but it was an entirely different tale for Aemond, who had to be cautious at every moment, taking great care so that none of his silver tresses slipped out.

‘’Do you venture out often?’’, he inquired before he could help himself, falling into step with his uncle.

Aemond answered him while keeping his eye forward.

‘’As often is needed.’’

His brows raised at that and he couldn’t help but wonder.

His uncle was talking about a ‘need’ and he was sure that it couldn’t just mean visiting the smithy or any other respectable establishment.

He wouldn’t be surprised if Aemond’s actions were similar to his other uncle, but were overshadowed due to Aegon’s lecherous ways.

‘’’As often as your brother?’’, he tried his best to keep his voice even, though he was sure that the implication behind his question was clear.

‘’If you are accusing me depravity, then I suggest you hold your tongue.’’

He couldn’t help but smile without mirth at that.

But he didn’t care if Aemond frequented brothels and such, and he wasn’t afraid to voice it.

‘’It would be no surprise, you are an alpha, no one would fault you for it,’’ he thought it over, ‘’if anything, it is expected of you.’’

They were to be wed sooner than late, but he didn’t expect any loyalty from Aemond, he didn’t think it was owed to him.

He would be lucky enough to have a strong consort beside him, and the only duty he expected from Aemond was to provide him with an heir and a spare for Driftmark.

Once that was done, his uncle would be free to love or fuck whoever he liked, would be free to live his life as he pleased.

His marriage would be one of solitude, he had already accepted that, and subsequently prepared himself to be content with the duties he would bury himself to.

But it didn’t mean there wouldn’t be any sort of love present, he would love his future children with all his heart. His mother and Daemon had commented-more than once- that he had the most motherly instincts out of all his siblings, a compliment he accepted, embraced and was proud of.

Even if Aemond chose to not acknowledge their children, he would once again keep his lips shut of any complaint, and would love them enough for both parents.

Aemond’s voice shook his out of the spiral of his thoughts.

‘’Not everyone is a whore like my brother, nephew, some of us keep a grip on our impulses.’’

He wanted to believe him; he really did.

But he had no reason to, and hope was the enemy of the life of isolation he would eventually be condemned to.

‘’That is....admirable.’’, he commented dryly.

Aemond hummed.

‘’You don’t believe me, do you?’’

He shrugged, having no reason to lie.

‘’I don’t.’’

Aemond continued his march, undeterred by his words, his body language as indolent as ever.

‘’I care not.’’

Before he could contemplate anything, his eyes fell upon a desolate alley they passed by, and he stopped in his tracks at what he saw.

It was quite dark in the alley, unlike the many flames which lit up the city, but he could clearly see two large figures hovering over a smaller one, which was pressed against the wall due to the two men that towered over it.

But most important, the sight that churned his guts was the fact that he could make out the glint of two blades which the men brandished, the steel shining in the moonlight it reflected, dangerous and unforgiving.

‘’Aemond, wait.’’, he said immediately, and his uncle surprisingly listened, though he could see him giving him an annoyed look from his periphery.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from the sight, and upon closer inspection, he realised that the small figure the men were cornering was just a little girl.

A helpless, little girl whose fear was evident on her face as she looked at the men.

His dread only increased tenfold when one of the men spoke in a sickly-sweet voice with an undertone of something horrible he refused

‘’Come now, sweet thing, we only want to talk.’’

The little girl only shook at those words.

‘’Please, sers,’’ she pleaded with a tremble in her voice ‘’I don’t want any trouble.’’

He looked back at Aemond, who had already taken note of the situation.

He didn’t have to consider what he was going to do next.

‘’We must help her.’’

Aemond, for his part, looked unsure.

‘’Nephew, tis not sma-‘’

It wasn’t, but it didn’t mean they could just turn away from the sight like wasn’t any of their business.

‘’She is just a child.’’, he reasoned.

He didn’t wait for Aemond’s answer and walked forward in the dark alley to make his presence know, pulling down his hood to increase his visibility as much as he could in the poor lit place.

‘’Hey!’’ he shouted with all the strength he could muster, ‘’let her go.’’, he commanded.

The two men jerked their heads towards him like owls who had been compelled to, their stares were full of a promise of danger he couldn’t ignore no matter how much he wanted to.

‘’Oh?’’ one of the men gave him an unsettling smile, walking towards him while spinning the dagger in his hand, giving his body a look that made him want to squirm ‘’and what's a little omega like you going to do about it?’’

It was as he had suspected, the two men were alphas, as was becoming more and more evident by the foul scent they let out, one which was quite contradictory to Aemond’s, who always smelled of wood and pine.

He stood his ground and reached at his waist to unsheathe the dagger Daemon had gifted him sometime ago, after the petition for his succession to Driftmark had ended in a resounding success for his family.

The other man only chuckled at his action, like he was deeply amused.

‘’you think you can beat us with that?’’

He couldn’t, he knew it already.

He knew the ways of the sword, but he wasn’t nearly as good as his older brother.

It was a good thing he wasn’t alone.

He looked back at Aemond, who looked back and moved his head in the slightest of nods.

That was the only communication he needed.

If only Aemond had the sword his commissioned with him, these two buffoons wouldn’t stand a chance and run for their lives.

‘’I am not sure,’’ he answered in a confident voice, spinning the dagger once in his hand ‘’but he can.’’

He threw his dagger towards his uncle, arming him with the only weapon there was between the two of them, simultaneously disarming himself.

Aemond caught it and engaged with the men, moving his body with strength that wasn’t expected from a man of his frame, parrying blow after blow and holding his own as he fought.

He wasted no time, walking over to the little girl while the alpha were busy with their quarrel, kneeling before her and diverting her teary eyes from the horrid display of violence and placing comforting hands on her shoulders, feeling her little body shake beneath his skin.

Gods, she was just a little girl, no older than Viserys.

‘’Are you all right?’’, he inquired gently, looking for any signs of hurt on her person and being glad to find there weren’t any.

The girl’s tears fell as she shook her head in the negative.

‘’Good,’’ he took her hands and helped her to her feet ‘’just run away, don't look back.’’

The girl thankfully obeyed his instructions and he only turned his attention towards the fight when he confirmed her successful departure out of harm’s way.

He was almost relieved to find out that one of the miscreants were already on the ground, clutching his hand which was now bloody, no doubt a result of his uncle’s expertise with the blade he had entrusted him with.

As expected, Aemond had his attention on the remaining alpha, struggling with him, his face in a grimace as his hood remained forgotten and off his head, exposing his silver tresses to the moonlight as they moved like the waves of the sea he would one day rule over.

However, his relief was short lived when the first man Aemond had knocked to the ground gained back his footing, closing in towards his betrothed while he had his back turned to him, completely unaware to the danger which approached at a steady pace.

‘’Aemond!’’, he exclaimed with wide eyes.

His body moved of its own accord, compelled by an unseen force, and by the time his mind caught up, the dagger which was meant for Aemond was caught in the skin right below his left shoulder.

Dangerously close to his beating heart.

His lips parted in a scream that never made it out due to the shock.

The pain made itself known a few moments later, increasing at a pace he had never felt before, so much so that his knees buckled beneath him as he fell to the dirty ground.

He faintly felt his cloak getting wetter and wetter by the second, the agonising realisation that he was currently bleeding out becoming more and more real by the second.

He felt dizzy as his eyes grew heavier by the second.

In between his blurred vision, he saw Aemond’s face peering down at him, looking at him with an expression that was a strange mixture of shock, anger and bewilderment.

His eyes closed and he barely heard the frantic voice of his uncle as he regarded him, feeling his arms wrap around him in a secure grip.

‘’You fool! What were you thinking?!’’

The effort to breathe or to stay conscious became harder and harder, he faintly registered the steel which was embedded in skin, sealing his fate.

‘’U-Uncle......’’

That was the last word which left his mouth before he gave in to the darkness, desperately hoping this wasn’t the end, that he would wake up again.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra marched towards Lucerys’ chambers with as much speed as she could muster between carrying the weight of a child within her and ignoring the ache of her swollen feet which she always faced in the later stages of he childbearing moons.

Daemon was right behind her, his steps as purposeful as hers, if not more, if the way he gripped onto the scabbard of Dark Sister until his knuckles turned white was anything to go by.

She ignored her husband’s murderous face that she had come to recognise too well in the years they have spent together and walked into the chambers.

Only to stop in her tracks as soon as she saw the sight in front of her.

Lucerys-her sweet boy-looked deathly pale as he laid there on the bed, completely unconscious and devoid of any color. His torso was bare save for the white bandage which was wrapped around it.

The slight blood which peeked out from the whiteness of the bandages might as well have been as gash on her own heart which threatened to make her lose her reason.

She caressed her belly to anchor herself and walked further in to see Aemond seated in one of the sofas-who stood up immediately once he saw her and Daemon’s appearance.

Her eyes further widened when she noticed that her brother’s hands were completely covered with blood, there was nary a spot on them which looked to be normal skin.

She didn’t need to ask whose blood it was.

Even worse was the fact that the blueish cloak which laid on the sofa forgotten was covered in much of the same crimson.

She looked towards her trusted Grand maester-Gerardys- and finally spoke up, dreading whatever answer he may give her.

‘’Maester....’’, she trailed off and the good man bowed to her.

‘’My queen.’’

She saw Alicent coming in from her periphery, the paleness of her own face at the sight was nearly enough to compete with Lucerys.

She ignored her and walked over to the bedside, running her hand’s through her sweet boy’s curls, her heart clenching at the ragged breaths he took.

‘’What has happened?’’, she heard Alicent ask the maester, who gave a once over to Lucerys’ form before announcing his verdict.

‘’He shoulder had been impaled and he has lost a substantial amount of blood.....’’

She felt a wince coming on her face as her boy’s condition was named in clear words. She knew she couldn’t dally any longer, therefore she asked the obvious question which was no doubt on everyone’s minds.

‘’Who did this?’’

‘’Who did this?’’, Daemon repeated her words with ire and disbelief dripping from his voice, ‘’The culprit stands before you and you ask ‘who did this?’’’

She sighed at her husband’s insistence to blame Aemond for this. It was logical, it would make sense, she the grudge he held for Lucerys would materialise one way or the other.

However, she didn’t expect it to happen right after the fact that her sweet boy had convinced her he would make amends with his uncle who was to become his betrothed soon.

She looked back to see Alicent approaching Aemond with a worried expression, stopping just until she was five feet away from her blood covered son.

‘’Aemond, please tell me this isn’t true, please tell me you didn’t.....’’, she pleaded, and her eyes welled up with tears when Aemond made no move to answer her, stepping back like she had just been struck, ‘’oh gods......’’

If it was even possible, Daemon’s expression steeled even more as he now advanced towards Aemond. His voice was calm, but the anger behind it was clear for all to hear in that chamber.

‘’You,’’ he pointed an accusatory finger at him, ‘’you bloody coward, you couldn’t touch him in the castle so you saw fit to deceive and corner him outside the walls?’’, he closed in until their faces were inches apart, doing his best to intimidate his nephew, ‘’Hmm?’’

She took a deep breath to regain her bearings, knowing full well she couldn’t let this go on any longer, no unless she wanted the situation to escalate to even more bloodshed.

‘’Daemon.....’’, she called out calmly but her words fell on deaf ears because his husband continued on in the same manner.

‘’With what right did you dare to lay hands on my son?!’’, he exclaimed, fisting his hand like he was itching to punch, ‘’I did not think you so eager to die, nephew.’’, he said in a quieter voice with tenfold the times of menace.

She couldn't have this, this needed to stop.

‘’Daemon!’’ she finally raised her voice and her husband blessedly heard her this time,  ‘’That's enough, step back.’’

Daemon gave one last glare before obeying her command, and she took it upon her self to take a few steps towards Aemond, looking at his face intently for any sign of lie as she voiced her query once again.

‘’Brother.....’’, she started, doing her best to control herself because gods knew someone had to remain calm, ‘’who did this?’’

She saw as a conflicting array of emotions passed through Aemond’s face, his single violet wavering, albeit slightly as he swallowed and spoke up for the first time in a voice that was so low that she had to strain her ears to make out his words.

‘’its my fault.....’’

Her lips parted in surprise and she heard an odd sound coming from Alicent, which was muffled halfway as she put a hand to her mouth, looking like she was unstable on her feet as she stumbled.

‘’Mother have mercy on us......’’, she choked out as a tear finally fell down her face, ‘’Aemond what did you do?!’’, she inquired in desperation, though it was clear she was not seeking an answer.

‘’What more do you wish to know?’’ Daemon spoke up, gesturing towards Lucerys, ‘’Your son is injured,’’ he gestured towards Alicent, ‘’her son is responsible, what are you going to do about it?’’

She wearily closed her eyes and took another deep breath to calm herself, letting all those emotions wash over herself without feeling them, simply because she had to be rational, and it wasn’t good for the babe.

‘’R-Rhaenyra......’’, Alicent called out, brown and watery orbs looking at her with compounded fear that suggested she was approaching a monster who would lash out at any given minute.

She couldn’t stand it, and at this moment, she could spare no sympathy for her, no matter how much she wanted to.

There were other matters which needed her attention.

‘’Ser Lorent,’’ she regarded her trusted knight, ‘’escort the Lady Alicent to her chambers, she is to stay there until I command otherwise.’’

The knight bowed, his Armor clanking as he did.

‘’My queen.’’

The man obeyed and lead Alicent out of the chambers, she waited until her future bride was completely out of view.

She sighed and approached her husband next, standing close enough so that they could talk in whispers, with words meant only for the two of them.

‘’Daemon, I need you stay by her side.’’, she commanded in an even tone.

Daemon’s eyes widened and he looked at her incredulously, like she had been speaking in an entirely different tongue he couldn’t make out a word of.

‘’Me?’’ he  inquired, ‘’stay with her and leave you alone with that bloodthirsty, vindictive scoundrel?’’, gods he needed to calm down,  ‘’’You can’t be serious!’’, he shouted back in a whisper.

She, however, remained undeterred.

She needed to speak to Aemond without further interruptions or life threats.

Something told her that there was more to the story than what she already knew, like a piece of puzzle which hid the whole truth of the matter from her.

‘’There's plenty of men here to protect me.’’ She declared truthfully, ‘’Alicent is afraid of us, of me, of what she thinks I might do to her or her children.’’ She sighed, ‘’I can’t have her weeping about as I take care of this, and neither can I leave her to go mad within her own thoughts.’’

Daemon took a deep breath of his own and looked at the ceiling with annoyance, a good gesture which suggested he was coming around to the idea.

‘’And I'm supposed to look after her?’’, he asked in a voice which was much calmer than before.

She placed a hand on his arm, compelling him to look down at her and mee the sincerity of her eyes as she made her case.

‘’'We should relieve her of her concern', those are your words, Daemon, not mine.’’, she reminded, fully aware that her husband only needed one last push before he gave in.

Daemon sighed, closing his eyes wearily.

‘’Rhaenyra....’’

She squeezed his arm and stepped even closer until the swell of her belly was in contact with his torso.

‘’Please, my love,’’ she implored in voice laced with sweetness and determination, ‘’leave this to me.’’, she hardened her expression, ‘’Trust me. ‘’

Daemon shook his head, but made no further move to protest.

He gave one last glare and ominous parting words before finally complying with her command.  

‘’Make no mistake, nephew. If I hear another word about you, I will not hesitate to free you of the remaining eye.’’

Chapter Text

Daemon Targaryen never knew what his place in the world was.

He knew early on that he had been born into a life of privilege, known to few.

A Targaryen prince, birthed by a princess who was so brave that she took him flying on Meleys a mere fortnight after his birth.

He followed the same motions as his brother, educating and training himself-as was befitting a noble of his station.

The first permanence of his life presented itself when he was knighted at the age of six and ten and subsequently granted the ownership of a Valyrian steel sword-Dark Sister, given to him by none other than King Jaehaerys The Conciliator.

The second permanence presented itself when his brother became a doting father to his only child-Rhaenyra Targaryen.

The third permanence presented itself when he forged a bond with his dragon-Caraxes. A bond which felt like home, felt like something which would be a close comparison to the relationship he shared with Viserys. A bond which consisted of the majority of his strength.

The fourth permanence took place when the great council declared his brother Protector of the Realm.

The following years only consisted of moving about, trying to find a position which would please his dear brother, because that is all he ever wanted.

His approval.

Whether it be the formation of the gold cloaks, or the victory at the stepstones-for which he presented the crown he won to Viserys- or even causing trouble on occasion, all of it was a means to an end.

To have his brother acknowledge him.

Which never happened simply because it was clear to his eyes that his brother was surrounded by a court of vipers and mongrels who only ever tried to use him for their personal benefit.

‘’Daemon would be a second Maegor.’’, The snake Otto Hightower had claimed.

He was the only one who saw Otto for the cunt he was.

And yet his brother’s approval seemed to drift farther and farther from his reach, despite his efforts.

‘’Ten years, you’ve been King! and yet not once have you asked me to be your hand!’’

For years, he thought himself the heir, the rightful successor after his brother- only to be replaced by the niece he had come to adore, the same girl child he had once bounced on his knee.

‘’I have decided to name a new heir.’’

He did not care for anything but Rhaenyra’s ability to rise to the challenge which had presented itself, an ability which manifested itself when that girl of one and four stood before him with an unwavering resolve, asking him to strike her down if being replaced bothered him so much.

‘’I’m right here, uncle. The object of your ire, if you wish to be restored as heir, you’ll need to kill me. So do it, and be done with all this bother.’’

There wasn’t a place for him at his brother’s court, not anymore.

Therefore, he made himself content with the life he built with his Lady wife-Laena Velaryon.

‘’Children can be such irritating creatures.’’, he had once said, and yet his feelings couldn’t have been more contrary when he was blessed with twin girls.

He didn’t know what being a good father consisted of, but he knew it within his bones that he would kill for those girls.

The years passed, and he tried to convince himself that this is what he wanted.

Travelling the Free Cities, visiting Pentos, Volantis and wherever their hearts desired.

He truly tried.

Told himself this life was better than the one he had forgone in the Capital.

‘’We are without responsibility, the political scheming. The endless shifting of loyalties and succession, is none of ours.’’

And yet his Lady wife spoke the words of his heart better than could eve have had.

‘’We are more than this Daemon. We are the blood of old Valyria.’’

He knew it, he was aware of the fact. And yet it wasn’t enough.

He still didn’t know his place in the world.

‘’This is a tragic world.’’, he had always preached, and consoled himself with the same words when he lost Laena that horrible night.

His brave girl who died the dragon rider’s death she always sought.

Though he still regretted the fact that he could do naught to save her.

‘’You cannot live your life in fear, or you will forsake the best parts of it.’’, he had once told Rhaenyra.

And it seemed his niece took those words to heart and abided by them, if the way she proposed to him while being a married woman was anything to go by.

‘’You and I are made of fire.’’

He understood her motivations better than anyone else. After all, he knew very well what being the heir to that throne of swords meant. The dangers it brought.

‘’I need you, Uncle. I cannot face the Greens alone.’’

And for the first time in his life, Daemon Targaryen found his place in the world. Right by the side of his niece and wife, right by the side of the children they shared, from both their previous and current marriages.

He knew what he had to do. And he knew of the challenges they would eventually face.

He would die for her cause, without hesitation and without remorse.

The petition for Luke’s inheritance only further proved his suspicions, and he became completely aware of the fact that a swift ascent for the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms would only be taken, not granted freely, as was Rhaenyra’s right.

His plans had been laid for a long while and they came to fruition.

The betrothals however, were something he could hardly agree with, the idea of fraternizing with the enemy was never pleasing to him.

Were it up to him, all the traitors who had conspired at that council while his brother remained incapacitated deserved to be gelded and beheaded, made an example of.

And yet his future queen insisted on a path to peace, a path to unity.

He was well aware of the fact that Rhaenyra’s decision to take Alicent Hightower of all people to wife wasn’t completely political, that it stemmed from feelings long buried throughout the long years and wedges created by the courts and division of loyalties.

He could hardly blame his Lady wife for pursing her own ends along with her duties.

After all, dragons were possessive and greedy creatures, they simply took what they wanted, unabashedly and without impishness.  They laid claim to those they considered their own.

And Rhaenyra was the true blood of the dragon.

Who was he to deny her appetites?

Though he had to admit, he couldn’t see the appeal behind his Queen’s choice of wife, no matter how much he tried.

Perhaps it was the brown hair?

Or the plain brown eyes?

Or was it the flesh which was hidden beneath those dresses?

Or was it the sad face?

It couldn’t be for Alicent’s devotion of the gods, that much he knew.

After all, there was nothing more tiresome and useless that the Faith in Westeros.

Not to mention there was nothing more boring in the whole of the realm than a Hightower.

He couldn’t find the appeal behind the tedious woman even now, as he saw her walk around the floors of her chambers, worry apparent on her face as he observed her while seated on one of the seats besides the hearth.

He knew he would have a headache sooner than later if this continued on.

Just his luck that he had to be the one to keep watch.

‘’Cease your fretting,’’, he spoke up after a few moments, ‘’you're making me dizzy.’’

But it seemed his night would only get worse as the minutes passed, because the darned woman showed no signs of stopping, seemingly lost in her own stupor as she kept on mumbling.

‘’She'll kill him, she'll kill my son...,’’ Alicent whispered, ‘’this is punishment for what I did, the gods,’’ she swallowed, ‘’they punish me.’’

He sank into the chair and rolled his eyes before he could help it.

The arduous years he spent in the stepstones were much more bearable than this.

‘’I am the one who wishes to kill your son,’’ he amended, ‘’your queen on the other hand, seeks to investigate this matter further, though I fail to understand why.’’

That finally seemed to catch Alicent’s attention, who finally stopped her mindless fretting and looked at him with eyes that could only be described as hopeful.

He could still see her working on picking at her already bloody nails, trying his best not to cringe at the sight.

‘’She does?’’

‘’Hmm,’’ he hummed, ‘’which is why I'm here, locked in with you to prevent the happening of the retribution your son rightfully deserves.’’

Alicent’s eyes welled up with tears as she paced around once again, looking even more uneasy than before.

‘’What if she thinks I did this?’’ she inquired, rubbing her face almost painfully, ‘’What if she thinks I asked my son to.....’’ she put a hand to her chest to take a deep breath, ‘’oh merciful gods....’’

He couldn’t help the small, almost inaudible chuckle which escaped him at that statement, making him distinctly remember that night in Driftmark.

‘’I shall have one of her son’s eyes in return.’’

Of course, the woman thought of Rhaenyra as something akin to herself, a hungry revenge driven lunatic.

However, his amusement was gone just as quickly when he saw Alicent shedding tears and sobbing like she was already in mourning.

He sighed.

‘’Just take a breath for fuck's sake.’’

The woman’s face finally turned to annoyance as she pointed towards the door which had been just firmly and was guarded by knights.

‘’You're free to leave if you want, my prince.’’

Maybe he could just knock her unconscious for the remainder of the night, it would definitely make the place much quieter and peaceful.

But he couldn’t, no matter how tempting.

Rhaenyra wouldn’t appreciate it.

‘’On the contrary, I am not,’’ he clarified, ‘’I am stuck here with you, courtesy of our gracious queen.’’

‘’I'm the one who's been confined, I did not wish for this!’’

Oh, the gall of this woman.

‘’The feelings mutual.’’

Alicent scoffed and just kept pacing around once more, putting even more effort into destroying her nail beds.

He knew that the woman wouldn’t survive this night in one piece if he let this continue.

And he doubted Rhaenyra would appreciate that, and nor did he want to get on the nerves of an expectant woman, an alpha no less.

He had enough experience and children by now to be cautiously aware that they could be quite ferocious when they needed to be.

He stood up and took out his kerchief, walking over to Alicent with decided steps.

‘’You're as frustrating as they come.’’, he huffed out, having no more energy to hide the exasperation in his voice.

He took her hands to stop the self-destruction before it left permanent consequences, using his strength to grip tightly enough to prevent her from freeing herself as she tried to do almost instinctively.

‘’Wha-‘’

‘’Ease up woman,’’ he said dryly, placing the white cloth over the injuries, ‘’I'm only trying to help. Someone needs to halt you before you lose a finger over those foolish actions of yours.’’

He kept his gaze focused, deftly cleaning her hands as she slowly gave up her useless resistance and gave into the touch.

‘’Foolish.....’’ she repeated in almost a whisper, ‘’You don’t know what its like....’’

He wasn’t inclined to listen to her worries or be her confidant, not in the least.

Nor did he have any interest in doing so.

But he supposed he could humour her, just this once.

‘’What?’’, he inquired, trying to use the most even tone he could, feigning care while keeping his eyes occupied at the task at hand.

‘’Passing through each day of your life in fear, not knowing when the stranger will come for your children,’’ she spoke wetly, ‘’trying to prevent the day when the noose which has been around our necks finally tightens and snaps our bone.....’’ she sniffed, ‘’and failing....’’

He resisted the urge to sigh at those injudicious thoughts for the umpteenth time.

Maybe he could make a rope of the sheets and escape through the balcony.

Or better yet, just jump to his death, it was entirely preferable to whatever this was.

‘’I assure you, unlike your son or myself, our queen has no interest in bearing the title of a kinslayer.’’

A few moments passed in silence before Alicent spoke up again.

‘’Why are you doing this?’’

The answer to that was simple enough, though he supposed he would need to word it out for her.

Hightowers-witless as always.

‘’Rhaenyra cares for you,’’ he declared factually, ‘’and I care about her.’’

That seemed to achieve the objective he had been striving for since he entered this chamber, because she went completely silent and frozen like she wasn’t even there.

He pulled away once he satisfied with his effort and walked over to one of the shelves, touching the spines of the books with his fingertips and looking over their titles.

‘’Try and lay down, get some sleep,’’ he suggested without looking back at her, ‘’that way you can save us both the trouble of having to converse any further.’’

He was unsurprised to find that most of the books were connected in some way to The Faith.

Some about the history of the Faith.

Some about the hymns used to praise the Seven.

Some about the rituals and practices they followed.

Fucking fantastic.

He almost let out a sound of relief when he found a book detailing the many flowers which grew in Westeros in beyond.

Not his first choice of what he wanted to occupy his time with, but still better than any of the other garbage which was available.

He took out the book and looked back to see Alicent in bed underneath the covers, laid on her side facing away from him, mildly surprised that she had obeyed his words like some helpless maiden.

He sighed.

Bloody Hightowers.

He still couldn’t understand the appeal.

Chapter Text

Aegon snuck out of the Red Keep in the dead of the night, clad in his usual cloak which served to assist in his effort of concealing his identity and feigning anonymity.

It was nothing new at this point, if anything, it was second nature to him.

To him, Fleabottom was as much his home as the Red Keep, considering the number of hours he had spent here since the days of his boyhood. He knew the streets well and he had no doubt that the streets knew him as well.

In this place, nothing mattered.

There was no Aemond-the upright twat- to remind him of the constant failure he was.

Not to mention he knew where his brother’s gall came from, it was all credited to that beast he claimed at the age of ten.

He didn’t understand it, what was so good about that shrivelled up piece of meat?

Sunfyre was much prettier.

Aemond needed to unclench, for fuck’s sake. He hopes his nephew will survive the marriage he was doomed into.

After all, the horror of being one day confined in Driftmark with nothing but Aemond and his old hag for company was unimaginable to him.

He would have jumped off the highest tower of the Red Keep before being condemned to such a fate.

Poor Luke, he deserved so much better than that.

There was no mother in these dirty streets to remind him of the ever-impending doom which was approaching, nor was there any of her slaps. There weren’t any lies about how he wouldn’t survive a single day after his dear sister became queen.

Well, guess what, mother? It has already been a week and all their heads was still firmly attached to his shoulder, so who’s the short-sighted idiot now?

There was no grandsire to look at him with disappointment and constantly remind him of what an utter whore he was.

Not that he denied it.

He pushed those useless thoughts away and didn’t spare another moment to the disaster that was his family, walking into the familiar establishment and using his searching gaze to look for the madam of the brothel he adored so much.

He felt his face break out into an involuntary beaming smile that he made no move to control as soon as he spotted her, walking over to her and pulling her into an embrace without any shame.

‘’Elayne, my love.’’, he cooed, swaying back and forth and feeling a semblance of peace for the first time that week.

The woman face was covered with shock as soon as the two of them pulled away, looking at him like she wasn’t expecting him here anytime soon.

‘’My king.....’’ she whispered, ‘’you're alive..’’

He snorted before he could help it, it was no wonder that many of the smallfolk didn’t know what fate had befallen the usurpers once Rhaenyra took the throne.

They were going to be presented at the coronation sooner than late, an affair he already dreaded due to the sheer weariness of it.

He hoped his sister would have his fantastic taste in wine for the feast which would follow, it would be some consolation for having to put up with festivities he frankly couldn’t care less about.

‘’Why wouldn’t I be?’’ he inquired with a grin, ‘’I was dethroned, not beheaded.’’ He informed. ‘’Also, its not king anymore,’’ he puffed out his chest, ‘’I am a prince of the realm once again.’’

Elayne chuckled and gave his arms several pats once she realised there was naught to be worried about.

‘’Thank the gods for that, my prince,’’ she amended, ‘’it is good to see you hale and healthy.’’

He could practically feel his grin getting wider by the second.

‘’Yes, it is, isn’t it?’’

He took out the leather pouch of coin he had kept hidden beneath his cloak and placed it in her hands.

She smirked in return at the payment and jangled the pouch as the coin inside it made its presence known by the sound.

‘’Absolutely,’’ she agreed, ‘’The usual, I presume?’’

Yes, fucking finally.

‘’You know me so well,’’ he started to walk towards his usual room by the side, ‘’and bring out the Dornish wine, I'll be here for a while.’’

The madam bowed.

‘’As my prince commands.’’

However, he was stopped in his tracks when he heard a familiar voice call out to him.

A voice he never thought he would hear, not in this place.

‘’Having a good night thus far, uncle?’’

Now that was a picture, he thought he would never witness, at least not until the Seven Hells froze over.

Jacaerys Targaryen-heir to the iron throne- standing in a brothel with his arms crossed-clad in a cloak similar to his own-looking at him with indignation.

Well, he’ll be damned.

The alcohol he had already drunk in the castle must have worked, because his shock was short-lived, if the way another amused chuckle escaped him was anything to go by.

‘’Not really, since my nephew decided to interrupt right before the fun part.’’

Jacaerys walked closer, his brown orbs boring into him like he was staring at his soul.

His expression mirrored his mother and grandsire.

The same disappointment, the same anger.

He wanted to punch it off his face, but alas, he was not Aemond.

‘’I'm not here as your nephew, I'm here as your betrothed.’’

He let out a merry laugh before he could help it

That’s right, they were still spinning that tale.

It was a wonder to him why the betrothal hadn’t broken yet, but it would happen in due time.

He couldn’t wait.

‘’How did you find me?’’, he inquired, deeply curious.

He wondered if it was the servants, even though he paid them good coin to keep his whereabouts secret.

Rude.

Not to mention traitorous and miniscule part of him even wished he was king, that way he could punish them in the most horrid way possible.

By having his knights tickle their bellies and armpits until they begged for mercy.

It was an effective method of torture, he would know, he was very ticklish.

‘’Tracking your movements was hardly an effort.’’, Jace answered, voice even and dry.

He looked away to avoid that look and scoffed.

‘’Right....well, go home to your mommy, I'll see you on the morrow.’’, he declared.

He made a move to walk away and only made it a few steps before his arm was caught in an iron tight grip, making him nearly stumble over his no doubt drunk state.

He looked back to see Jacaerys’ face morph into one of determination.

‘’I am going home, but not alone, I’m taking you with me,’’ he started dragging him out ‘’Come.’’

Seriously, what was his problem?

He had never claimed to be smart, but he had never felt as lost as he did currently while trying to make sense of the alpha’s actions.

His actions, which further confused him when Jacaerys let go of his arm and took his hand as soon as they were outside, leading him through the sparce crowd of people which consisted of drunkards and whores at this hour, not unlike himself.

The hand gripping his own was warm, almost comforting.

It made him frown; it drained the amusement from his body.

He didn’t like it one bit, it scared him.

It made it seem like the alpha in front of him actually cared for him.

He buried those useless thoughts into depths they could never be recovered from.

‘’Oh, come now Jace,’’ he whined ‘’when did you become such a prude?’’

He liked him better when he was snotty brat snotty brat who followed him around everywhere screaming ‘uncle Aegon’ every time he spotted him.

Ah, those were the days.

And yet that brat was nowhere to be found, and he blamed it all on Dragonstone.

Living on that rock had done nothing for his nephew.

He didn’t blame him; he would go crazy too if he had to live in a glorified cave which they called a castle.

Honestly, did the Targaryens who built it have no better ideas than creating that abomination?

‘’I am not a prude,’’ his nephew denied, ‘’you are simply too...’’ he thought it over, ‘’uninhibited,’’ he pulled him alone and quickened his steps, ‘’walk quicker.’’

Well, that was certainly one way to put it.

He chuckled again, finding another source of entertainment, one he could greatly take advantage of.

‘’Too whorish you mean?’’

‘’Do not call yourself that.’’, Jace chided immediately.

As if he was a mother scolding his unruly child.

It was sickening, to say the least, how this man was ever the polite prince, something which was no doubt his sister’s teachings.

A woman who became a mother around the same time as his own, and yet the two of them turned out so different.

‘’No harm in telling true, is there?’’ he continued, undeterred, ‘’I'm sure you’ve heard the rumours surrounding my reputation.’’

Perhaps if he exposed how vile of a person he was, how undeserving, it would speed along the dismissal of this farce and complete joke of a betrothal.

‘’Aegon...’’

‘’It is hardly a secret, of what I regularly get up to outside the Red Keep.’’, he pressed on.

‘’Stop talking.’’

Jacaerys seemed visibly angry from what he could see of his back, and if the way his grip tightened on his hand was anything to go by.

Just a little more push then.

‘’I assure you the truth is far worse.’’

‘’Stop!’’, his nephew finally exclaimed, stopping and looking back at him with fury.

The loud voice completely startled him as he jolted, as far as he knew, Jacaerys had never made a big show of his alpha nature, at least not towards him.

It was surprising, to say the least, and here he thought his nephew had no spine.

He saw Jace’s chest heaving as he looked up towards the sky and closed his eyes, taking and deep breath before looking back at him.

‘’Not another word.’’ He commanded this time, turning around once again and dragging him along, ‘’Just keep walking.’’

He swallowed as his words remained choked in his throat.

He followed obediently like a stray kitten.

Chapter Text

After Daemon left on her orders, Rhaenyra spent the next few minutes simply catching her breath and stabilising herself.

Gods knew she needed all the strength she could muster for the person she was about to converse with.

She took her place on the sofa and gestured at the one opposite to her while looking at Aemond.

‘’Sit.’’, she commanded in a firm yet soft tone, leaving no room for argument.

Now admittedly, she didn’t know much about her second brother, the bond between them didn’t exist, but she had expected him to argue or protest, to do anything but make this easier for her.

So, imagine her surprise when Aemond simply obeyed and took his place opposite to her like he was a loyal hound, his eye set downcast like he couldn’t meet her gaze, and completely focused on his hands which were still bloody, fingers tangling with each other and rubbing off some of the crimson which had already dried on the skin.

The sight only made her wince, but she ignored it in favour of focusing on more important matters.

Lile

‘’Now,’’ she took a deep breath, ‘’talk.’’ She commanded once again, ‘’Tell me everything.’’

She saw Aemond’s chest move in a deep breath of his own before he spoke.

‘’I.....’’ his throat bobbed as he swallowed, ‘’wanted to venture out of the Red Keep, but was forbidden from doing so.’’

She nodded.

‘’For good reason, might I add.’’, she stated, trying her best to hide the ire in her voice.

Aemond finally looked up to meet her eyes, an indignant look on his face.

‘’He offered to help me,’’ he parried, ‘’to accompany me.’’

She hummed in agreement.

‘’I see,’’ she gave a once over to Lucerys’ unconscious state on the bed, ‘’and how did this little escapade of yours end up with my son being impaled in the shoulder?’’

She watched as Aemond looked away and rubbed his hands together even more furiously and unevenly, like he was completely distraught by the blood which covered them.

And yet he had made no move to wash it off.

‘’We ran into miscreants on the way and....’’ she saw his face morph into something which suggested he was in pain, ‘’he took the hit which was meant for me.’’

She leaned back and exhaled as the information sunk into her bones.

It sounded like her son’s actions, which was surprising and yet not at the same time.

Because she knew that Luke wouldn’t hesitate to jump into harm’s way for his siblings, or even her and Daemon.

But she didn’t know he was willing to do that was Aemond as well.

Which begged another question.

‘’Hmm,’’ she hummed, ‘’and why should I believe you?’’

Aemond scoffed, looking back at her and giving her an incredulous look.

‘’You shouldn’t, you have no reason to,’’ he agreed and jutted his chin towards the bed where Lucerys laid, ‘’but you can ask your son for the whole story when he wakes up.’’

‘’But you hate him, don’t you?’’, she inquired without needing answer, looking at his face intently.

And yet again, Aemond’s usual confidence was gone and he went back to being speechless.

‘’I....’’

‘’You've hardly made an effort to hide your anger for him.’’ she stated factually, ‘’he maimed you when you were a mere boy, was never punished for it.’’ she sighed, ‘’You believe one of his eyes to be a debt which is rightfully owed to you.’’

She had no doubt that her brother carried Alicent's words within her from that night in Driftmark.

''There is a debt to be paid.''

Aemond’s silence continued on for the next few moments, choosing not to say anything in response to her words.

She had expected some kind of a smart retort, righteous anger, or even sarcasm, and yet it seemed that the cat had gotten hold her brother’s tongue.

She caressed her belly and felt her little girl's movements from within, letting her know that she was wide awake as well.

‘’I gave Lucerys the option to accept or reject this betrothal,’’ she confessed, ‘’did you know what he said?’’ she smiled fondly as she recalled it, ‘’He said that he was more than ready to spend the rest of his life making amends.’’

She had never seen her son more determined than he had been at that moment.

But then again, her second born had changed much after the petition at Driftmark, like a confident sailor who had charted his course and was more than ready to sail through it, indifferent to the fact that he might encounter vicious storms and apparently life-threatening waves which me might drown under.

But Aemond didn’t understand any of it, he was blind to it due to the grudge he had been nursing for the past six years or so.

She sighed wearily and stood up from the sofa, making her way around and sitting next to Aemond.

A bit relieved at the fact that her brother gave her a questioning side-eye but made no move to get away.

She felt her girl move again in the confine of her womb and held a hand out for Aemond.

‘’Give me your hand.’’, she instructed.

Aemond’s brows raised in suspicious confusion.

‘’What?’’

She huffed in annoyance and took his hand herself, keeping a tight grip on it as she guided his palm to rest on the swell of her belly.

Aemond’s eye widened in surprise as he instinctively tried to free his hand, but she expected it and prevented him from doing so by applying more pressure.

‘’What are yo-‘’

‘’Hush,’’ she interrupted and grabbed his hand a bit more firmly and kept it pressed there, ‘’just feel.’’, she said in a softer voice.

They only had to wait a few more moments before her babe didn’t disappoint and kicked on the same place she had been suffering her hits since the last two moons.

‘’My husband believes it to be a girl,’’ she whispered, ‘’I pray the same as well.’’

She felt Aemond’s hand relax over belly, looking at it with something akin to awe in his eye.

‘’Does....’’ he started, looking unsure and unexpectedly innocent at that moment, ‘’Does it hurt?’’

She felt her lips curl up into a smile as she let his hand go.

‘’It does,’’ she answered, ‘’the whole process of childbearing is anything but pleasant.’’ She informed, ‘’There's sickness, untimely cravings, swollen feet and a lack of sleep which is enough to drive one mad. And at the end of it,’’ she chuckled as she recalled it, ‘’the pain is so arduous that I cursed both the gods and my midwives during all my labours.’’

‘’What is your point?’’, Aemond inquired, ever the impatient youth.

‘’My point is,’’ she started solemnly, ‘’I have done this five times before, and your mother has done the same as well.’’ She could fee her eyes waver as she held back her emotions, ‘’Can you imagine the agony of going through all that birth a child, only to see him wounded, or worse, die before his time?’’

Aemond was a young man, an alpha no less, it would be more than expected for him to seek blood and glory which could only be achieved by real battle.

But it also didn’t change the fact that he was still a green boy, one who wasn’t completely aware of the horrors which real war brought, both for nobility and the commonfolk.

‘’Do not let my calm state fool you,’’ she tried her best to keep her tone even, ‘’do not for a second think that Luke’s current state doesn’t break my heart.’’ But alas, her voice cracked a bit, ‘’You can blame me all you like for what I have done, but the alternative to this was to wage a war which more than likely would ended up in the death of mine and Alicent's children.’’

She hadn’t faced real battle, but she knew very well that dragons were a fearsome power, easily the greatest in the realm.

And when they flew to war, everything burned.

She turned towards Aemond completely, looking at him intently.

‘’Brother,’’ she regarded him by the relationship they shared, ‘’there are worse fates than serving as consort to Driftmark and Lord of The Tides.’’

She saw a conflicting array of emotions pass through Aemond’s face, and as much as she wanted to know his thoughts, she doubted he would tell her.

She looked away and caressed her belly once again, looking for an anchor, which her daughter provided by kicking her once again.

This couldn’t go on, not if she wanted peace.

‘’Nevertheless, my aim is unity for our house,’’ she sighed, ‘’and it cannot happen if you’re so unwilling towards it.’’ she nodded to herself, having made her decision, ‘’I can make a concession for you, I'll dismiss the betrothal should you ask for it.’’

Her own upcoming nuptials and Jace’s should be-had to be-more than enough to achieve her objectives.

It simply wasn’t worth it if it resulted in more harm descending upon her sweet boy.

Realising that Aemond had many things to think and fret over, as conveyed by his prolonged silence, she decided it best to let him go.

‘’You may leave now,’’ she dismissed, ‘’I trust you can find your way back to your chambers?’’

Aemond got up and so did she.

She made her way to the bedside chair to stand vigil upon Lucerys and heard Aemond’s steps as he exited, but not before he said almost soundless parting words.

‘’Yes, your grace.’’

She had no capacity to feel any semblance of relief or happiness over the fact that Aemond had indirectly acknowledged her claim.

Instead, she felt overwhelming grief take over as she reached for Lucerys’ hand, kissing the back of his as her eyes burned.

She closed them and sobbed quietly, allowing herself a moment of weakness before strength was required of her.

Chapter Text

Aemond kept himself seated on a chair by the bedside of the brat who had seen fit to jump into the path of steel as if he lacked all preservation.

The sky was starting to turn blue from what he could see of it from the balcony, and he had surprised himself once again by how much time he had spent watching the face of the boy who had mutilated him many years ago.

The book in his lap could very well be an accessory, because even during the whole night, he hadn’t managed to read more than five pages because of all the thoughts his half-sister had managed to stir in his head previously.

He mused that the servants in the castle must be rising from their slumber by now, preparing for the day ahead before they had to wake the nobles.

His sleep was a lost thing and he had done something he never thought himself capable of.

Playing a nursemaid to a boy who currently laid unconscious in bed, party due to his fault and because Lucerys was an idiot.

It was almost a sort of repose when he saw Lucerys stir from the sleep he had been trapped in, his long lashes fluttering as his face grimaced.

He tried his best to hide the relief in his voice as he spoke, proud of how uncaring his tone came out.

‘’Good morrow nephew, I trust you slept well.’’

Lucerys squirmed in bed as his eyes opened and blinked rapidly in an attempt to focus his vision.

‘’Ugh....’’, he groaned, the weakness in his voice making his heart clench involuntarily.

He wasn’t worried, he wasn’t.

‘’How do you feel?’’, he inquired, putting a tease to his voice like he was enjoying this.

He wasn’t.

The boy let out a sound which was supposed to be a chuckle, but came out as something much worse instead.

‘’Like I've been stabbed in the shoulder,’’ he said in a raspy voice, ‘’everything hurts.’’

Aemond hummed and nodded.

‘’Yes, taking a knife to the skin will do that to you.’’, he said factually, all the while hiding how much his words were making him cringe.

Lucerys broke away from the haze and finally seemed to gain enough sense to look at him utter confusion,

‘’Why are you here?’’

Yes, he would like to know the answer to that as well.

Why the fuck was he here?

But alas, he found none, therefore he did what was best.

He deflected.

‘’I'll go get the maester.’’, he declared, standing up from his seat, only to have his wrist caught by Lucerys, whose strength had returned almost miraculously as he sat up and managed to stop him in his tracks.

‘’Wait.’’

He discreetly looked at the dainty hand holding his wrist before meeting his nephew’s eyes.

‘’What?’’

There was something akin to concern in those brown eyes.

Eyes that were still as wide and large as the time the boy was once an infant in his boyish arms.

He hated the innocence behind them.

‘’Are-Are you all right?’’

This witless child, what was he on about?

He freed his wrist using movements that couldn’t be considered rude, sitting back down on the seat.

‘’You lie in a bed, injured and weak,’’ he smirked. ‘’and yet you are foolish enough to inquire about my well being?’’

Lucerys mirrored his smirk, using small movements to lean back against the bed as he fisted his hands in an attempt to stop himself from doing something stupid like fluffing the pillows behind him or assisting him.

‘’Like you said, I took a knife to the skin,’’ he tilted his head, ever the brat, ‘’I have to know it was worth the pain.’’

He hummed, and leaned back in his own chair and crossed his legs.

‘’As you can see with both your eyes, I am intact and unharmed.’’

Lucerys let out a breathless huff, seemingly choosing to ignore his attempt at a jest and shaking his head.

‘’How long was I indisposed?’’

‘’Two days.’’, he answered curtly.

Lucerys let out a small giggle like any of this was funny, a hint of madness brewing in his eyes.

‘’I'm surprised my mother didn’t have you confined in the dungeons yet, I was half expecting to see your body mounted on a gibbet.’’

He prevented his face from being twisted in an ugly way and let out an amused hum of his own.

‘’You'd like that, wouldn’t you, bastard?’’, he sneered.

The brat was as undeterred as always, no fear present despite his best attempts to make him terrified and cower in fear.

‘’Of course not, contrary to what you think, I'd prefer you alive and well,’’ he gave his form a once over, ‘’and I must say the sight of you keeping vigil is quite appealing to me. Tell me, qybor, did you watch me sleep for two whole nights?’’

He had.

He had ignored the death glares his other righteous nephew-Jacaerys- had given him and kept himself planted in these chambers like a tree.

But he would rather venture the Seven hells than admit to it.

‘’Presumptuous.’’

The bastard pressed on.

‘’Am I wrong?’’

He sighed, suddenly having no more will or strength to entertain this little back forth that wasn’t going anywhere.

In a movement that was very unlike him, he leaned forward and placed a hand on Lucerys’ injured shoulder with tenderness that he thought himself incapable of until this moment, looking at the red which bloomed under the white bandages as his guts twisted once again.

All while ignoring how small his nephew’s build was, small enough that his hand was enough to cover the entirety of his shoulder.

So weak, so pathetic.

‘’You shouldn’t have thrown yourself into harm's way,’’ he said in a whisper, ‘’it was injudicious, not to mention reckless.’’

‘’And completely worth it if it ensured your safety.’’, Lucerys parried back.

He tore his gaze away from the bandages and his hand and looked at the boy-who was already looking back at him- and gave him a suspicious look.

‘’What do you care about my safety?’’

‘’You're my family.’’, he said, as if it would explain everything, as if that night in Driftmark never happened.

‘’and yet you took my eye.’’

He had mean to make his tone accusatory, to lace it with hatred that he should feel for the bastard.

And yet the words came out weak, like he was merely disappointed and hurt emotionally-not physically-by the harm which had befallen him.

As if such a thing was even possible.

Lucerys reached up and placed a hand of his own over his with caution, right over the injury which he had taken for him, looking at him with unblinking eyes like he was trying his best to get his point across.

‘’I was protecting someone back then,’’ he squeezed his hand a bit, ‘’and even now, I was protecting someone still.’’

He found that hard to believe, and yet it was true all the same.

‘’Your mother has given me free reign to dismiss our betrothal.’’, he suddenly blurted out.

He didn’t know what sort of a reaction he had been hoping for, but the stoic expression which now covered Lucerys’ face was definitely not it.

‘’Oh.’’

Lucerys took his hand away and he loathed to admit how much he missed the soft yet calloused skin of his hands.

‘’I presume we are no longer bound then?’’, he inquired while looking at his lap with downcast eyes like it was the most entertaining thing ever.

He hummed and leaned back in his seat.

‘’You presume wrong,’’ he informed without a silver of emotion, ‘’the betrothal will stand, and in due course, I’ll marry you.’’

The bastard looked up at him with those doe eyes once again.

Those damn eyes.

‘’What?’’

‘’Unlike you, taoba, I am a second son with nothing to inherit.’’ he looked away from that gaze, ‘’Serving as consort to Driftmark will be consolation enough.’’

As if on cue, his half-sister’s words echoed in his ears for the umpteenth time like he was haunted by them.

‘’there are worse fates than serving as consort to Driftmark and Lord of The Tides.’’

He wasn’t stupid enough to not consider what it meant.

The road had forked before him, one lead to war, and the other lead to peace.

On one road, he could wage the war he had been preparing himself for for the last six years. It would mean real bloodshed and glory and everything else that came along with it. It would mean burning people-real people- to ash and bones.

‘’Can you imagine the agony of going through all that birth a child, only to see him wounded, or worse, die before his time?’’

People that are sons of mothers who consider them precious that the most expensive of pearls.

‘’the pain is so arduous that I cursed both the gods and my midwives during all my labours.’’

People that mothers went through unimaginable agony to birth to.

Human life was fragile, and it was invaluable, as he was coming to learn.

One another road, he could be married, he could settle down into a quiet life with a respectable title.

It was almost pathetic how clearly he could imagine this particular path, with Lucerys serving as Lord of the Tides and him being the greatest support his nephew could ask for. They would wake up in the mornings and attend to their duties together, and retire together during the night.

He would sit at the beach of High Tide with a child on his knee while the rest of his brood which was a combination of silver tresses and brown curls filled the salty breeze with their giggles and laughter. The skies themselves would be filled with Vhagar, Arrax and their hatchlings alike, singing a melody which would no doubt be harmonious and pleasant to his ears.

He knew which path he would prefer, which one was more enticing to him.

He saw Lucerys' head move in the slightest of nods, though the determination behind it wasn't lost to him.

‘’But you must know, I cannot forgive you,’’ he shrugged, ‘’and I cannot entertain whatever childish fantasies you might harbour regarding this marriage.’’

Were the rifts of the past so easily mended?

Was it truly possible to leave behind all the hatred which had consumed him for all these years?

Lucerys nodded once again.

‘’Then you'll be glad to know I have none.’’ He sighed, ‘’I only wish for peace, for us, for our family, and the realm.’’

He hummed in agreement.

‘’Then we are agreed.’’

He saw Lucerys biting his lip to stifle a sound as his hand went up to his shoulder again,

‘’G-good, that's good,’’ he stuttered, then gave him a weak smile, ‘’C-Can you f-fetch the maester now? m-my shoulder's killing me.’’

Gods, this boy would drive him crazy one day.

‘’Of course.’’

Chapter Text

Alicent didn’t manage to sleep that night.

How could she?

Not when there were more than a hundred thoughts swirling in her head about what had just happened.

The facts themselves were more than enough to make her nauseous.

Rhaenyra’s son was injured, and her son was likely responsible for it.

The rage she had felt that night at Driftmark had lit a fire in Aemond, a fire which had carried on for the last six years and now finally presented itself.

And it had led to severe injury for a boy of mere four and ten.

It was all her fault, Aemond had always been angry and none of her attempts at soothing him had worked.

Daemon had fallen asleep on the chair he had claimed the night before and she couldn’t help but be envious of how peacefully the man slept while she was worried out of her mind.

Worried what Rhaenyra-who was now queen-might do in retribution for what had occurred to her son.

Daemon started snoring with small noises and she contemplated whether or not it would be a smart move to punch the man awake.

Her contemplation didn’t last long because the doors to the chambers blessedly opened and the very woman she had been thinking about for the last few agonizing hours made her way inside, hand on her swollen belly.

Rhaenyra regarded her with a whisper which could be mistaken for gentle and Daemon didn’t stir from his slumber.

‘’Alicent.’’

It was almost involuntary, her body moved of her own accord and she stood up immediately to make her case and pacify the woman’s anger, though a part of her knew it was a lost cause. Aemond would be punished one way or another and would be lucky to come out of it without permanent damage.

‘’Rhaenyra. Please, you must know, it was never Aemond's intention to hurt Lucerys, and nor was he actin-‘’

Rhaenyra immediately moved forward and grabbed both her arm in a firm grip, no sign of the fury or the righteous anger she had expected present on her face.

Instead, she was seemingly tranquil, which was a surprise in itself.

‘’Calm yourself,’’ she commanded in a tender voice, ‘’I've already talked to Aemond and ascertained the truth of the matter.’’

She couldn’t help the silver of hope that creeped up upon her at Rhaenyra’s demeanour.

‘’And?’’

Rhaenyra smiled at her, giving her an assuring nod like she was trying to console her.

''And it was nothing more than an accident,'' she concluded, ''though admittedly, the actions of our boys are far from being lauded, they shouldn’t have snuck out of the castle to begin with.''

‘’So....you just talked?’’, she inquired, failing to hide the disbelief in her voice at the notion.

Rhaenyra hummed, giving Daemon’s form a dry look and urging her towards the bed.

‘’Please, sit.’’

She complied easily, letting herself be led as the two of them sat by the bedside.

Being this close, she could make out the milky scent which surrounded the woman, no doubt due to the child she carried, along with a faint hint of roses which was naturally credited to Rhaenyra.

She wondered if it was right to find it as appealing as she did.

‘’What did you think I was going to do once I dismissed the two of you?’’, Rhaenyra inquired, keeping her voice low enough so that Daemon wouldn’t wake up from his obnoxious snoring.

She couldn’t help the swirl of thoughts that made her way into her head at that question, the endless possibilities of the grim end which would await Aemond and her at some point.

Rhaenyra sighed spoke up like she had read her mind.

‘’Alicent, you must stop seeing me this way.’’

She looked up at her to already see her looking back at her with something akin to hurt in her eyes.

‘’in what way?’

Rhaenyra shrugged.

‘’Like a vicious bitch who's out for the blood of your children, despite the fact that I am a mother in my own right and your children happen to be my siblings.’’

‘’Half-siblings.’’, she corrected immediately.

After all, Rhaenyra n How could she?

ever cared for her children.

Her children were a threat to her from the moment they were born.

They weren’t family to her; they were claimants who threatened to take her position.

‘’A technicality that doesn’t matter,’’ Rhaenyra dismissed, ‘’they still share my blood, and it is needless to say that there is naught to be gained from spilling it.’’

She really wanted to believe those words, she did.

And the fact that she couldn’t sense even a hint of lie in those words only made it worse.

‘’You meant what you said then?’’ she inquired cautiously, ‘’You truly wish to forge peace?’’

After all, it had already been a week since Kings Landing was taken over.

If she was to be executed, there was no use in delaying it.

But she couldn’t help but worry, despite all that.

Because even if her children were spared, where does she fit into this new order?

Was there even a place for her?

It seemed like everything she had been thinking about was clear on her face, because Rhaenyra simply took her hand and spoke like she had read her.

‘’I do’’ she admitted, ‘’and I do not wish to go about it alone, I want-‘’ she swallowed, ‘’I need you by my side.’’

‘’I find that hard to believe.’’, she confessed truthfully.

Rhaenyra’s brows furrowed like she didn’t understand.

‘’You already have a capable husband by your side,’’ Alicent clarified, and surprised herself by how sullen her voice sounded at the prospect, ‘’what would you need me for?’’

After all, Daemon was a prince, a dragonrider, a warrior with many belts under his belt who was feted throughout the realm and hated at the same time.

It was foolish to even compare the two of them when she brought nothing to the table, nothing which would be valuable enough.

‘’Yes, Daemon is capable, but he is also volatile, rogue and masterfully adept at testing my patience sometimes.’’, she said in a teasing tone which suggested there was nothing wrong with this whole affair.

‘’So, you want to marry me because you wish for me to serve as a tampering voice in your marriage?’’

Rhaenyra shook her head, squeezing her hand which she had caught, making her heart skip a beat.

‘’No, '' she disagreed, ''I wish to marry you because you and I understand each other,’’ she explained, ‘’because I miss my childhood companion, the one who always read me like a book and always remained at my side like a shadow.’’, she confessed with a sad smile.

She missed her too, as she realised at that moment.

They weren’t young girls anymore, they were grown women who had married, had children, and had subsequently faced the loss of their husbands.

Looking so closely, she could tell that her eyes were glazed over and a bit red.

She had cried, most likely, over what had happened to Lucerys.

It was expected, what kind of a mother wouldn’t?

And yet she had made her way here and was now comforting her, regardless of the fact that Rhaenyra was the one who needed encouraging words at this moment.

She couldn’t help but freeze when Rhaenyra brought a hand and cupped her cheek.

‘’Is that so hard to believe? Would you punish me for wanting you for as long as I have?'' she inquired, ''When I know without a flicker of a doubt that you felt the same way for me as well?''

‘’That was a long time ago.’’, she whispered, realising that the words made her chest ache.

Rhaenyra nodded.

‘’It was’’ she agreed, ‘’and I often wonder what could have been, had your father not moved you about as a piece on the board, had my father not chosen to marry you while being completely oblivious about us.’’

She couldn’t help the way her shoulders slumped down in dejection at that possibility.

‘’There's no use wondering is there? That time is over.’’

Could they really go back?

Was that even a possibility after everything that had happened?

Rhaenyra leaned closer to her face, thumb rubbing soft circles on her cheek that made her skin tingle.

‘’And yet the present still exists, you are here, and so am I?’’ she said expectantly, ‘’So pray tell, what is stopping you now?’’

She leaned into the hand cupping her cheek without even realising it, like it was a natural thing.

‘’Rhaenyra......’’

Her own voice sounded raspy to her.

Both of them were broken out of there stupor when they heard a throat clear from where Daemon had been seated.

They jerked their heads simultaneously to see Daemon now wide awake in his chair as he placed the book he had been reading before he went to sleep on the small table.

‘’Is Luke all right?’’, he inquired, voice thick with sleep.

Rhaenyra let her hang go and took the other one away from her cheek, making her feel cold and miss the warmth which had surrounded her.

‘’Yes, he'll be fine.’’, she declared

Daemon hummed and stood up, stretching his arms before him and letting out a satisfied groan.

‘’Am I free to leave then?’’

‘’So long as you head straight to our bedchambers.’’, Rhaenyra said in a firm voice.

Daemon smirked and started to walk out without sparing them another glance.

‘’Of course.’’

‘’I mean it husband,’’ Rhaenyra insisted, ‘’no detours or so help me-‘’

‘’As my queen commands.’’, Daemon interrupted, the sound of his voice and steps growing progressively smaller as he walked away.

Rhaenyra sighed and stood up from the bed, caressing her belly as she left with polite parting words.

‘’Well, I suppose I’ll leave you to it.’’

She nodded and could only watch the woman as he exited her chambers.

**

When Rhaenyra made her way outside Alicent’s chambers, she walked and turned around the hallway to see her eldest and heir loitering the place even though by all accounts, he should be in bed.

The blue of the sky had started to show but it was no waking hour for any of the,

‘’Jace.’’, she called out to get his attention and he immediately walked over to her.

‘’Mother.’’

‘’why are you up so early?’’

Jace turned his gaze away from her, a sheepish look on his face as he looked at anywhere but her.

Something he always did when he was hiding something from her.

‘’I....didn’t sleep.’’, he informed in a small voice.

She shook her head with indignance.

‘’Jacaerys,’’ she regarded him by his full name to get his attention so that their eyes met, ‘’what have you been up to?’’

Jace took a deep breath

‘’I was out.’’

Her brows raised.

‘’Out where?’’

‘’Fetching Aegon.....’’ he shuffled on his feet, ‘’he went out.’’

Rhaenyra sighed.

‘’Gods help me, do I have no choice but to shackle my children and siblings for some semblance of peace?’’

Her son stepped closer and looked at her face with a sincere yet determined expression that did nothing to ease her worries.

‘’Just leave my betrothed to me mother,’’ he implored, ‘’I have the situation well under hand.’’

She scoffed.

‘’Yes, I have heard that tale before.’’

Jacaerys’ brows furrowed in confusion, clearly catching on that something was amiss.

‘’What has happened?’’

She sighed once again, utterly exhausted by this whole situation she had found herself in.

‘’Its Luke.....’’

She informed her son of everything that had happened thus far and could only watch as the colour drained from Jace’s face at what had happened to Lucerys.

‘’Gods be good, is he all right?’’

She nodded.

‘’Yes, he'll be fine.’’

The worry on Jace’s face turned into relief, and that relief morphed into anger just as fast when Jace fisted his hands and his nostrils flared with fury, his alpha nature creeping out as outrage took over him.

‘’This is Aemond's fault, I'll kill him.’’

‘’No you wont, that's enough.’’, she said in a clear voice, one which left no room for arguments.

‘’But I-‘’

Both of them were interrupted when a familiar and large dragon cry came from the sky.

They walked over to a nearby window and watched as Meleys-The Red Queen-scoured the skies and flew past the Red Keep towards the Dragonpit.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra signalled the start of yet another meeting of her council, bracing herself for anything and everything as she placed the ball in its place on the table.

‘’Let us begin.’’

She sat down and gave a once over to each and everyone of her family and others who had joined.

The council boasted two new members today, both women and those were Rhaenys ‘The queen who never was’ and the other was her soon to be Lady wife, Alicent Hightower.

Her husband rightfully opposes, hiding his ire beneath the calmness of his voice.

‘’Before that,’’ Daemon said, and pointed towards Alicent, ‘’What is she doing here? She doesnt have a seat at this council.’’

She cleared her throat to speak her prepared answer because she had been expecting this.

‘’Lady Alicent acted as representative of the throne and ruled during my father's long illness, I welcome her experience and wisdom.’’

She gave Alicent a comforting smile which she returned wryly. Rhaenyra settled for it, it was better than nothing.

Daemon, however, was not satisfied by her answer.

‘’And how can we expect her to provide sage advice and not act in the interest of her feckless so-‘’

‘’Prince Daemon,’’ Alicent interrupted in a calm voice, ‘’with all due respect, I sit right before you,’’ she reminded because Daemon had been speaking like she wasn’t there, ‘’all I desire is the prosperity of the realm, and her grace is free to disregard my words should they present an inkling of treason.’’

Daemon gave a smirk which told her this couldn’t be anything good.

‘’Prosperity of the realm,’’ he repeated, ‘’is that what you told yourself when you murdered my brother?’’

‘’You mean my husband,’’ Alicent parried, ‘’who was ill in his bed, weary with rotting limbs and a missing eye?’’

Daemon’s smirked vanished.

‘’You-‘’

‘’That's enough,’’ she interrupted in a firm voice, ‘’we'll get nowhere with futile exchanges. Maester Gerardys, our ravens, has there been any answer?’’

The good maester leaned forward and gave his report.

‘’Yes, your grace, House Hightower has declared for you, and so has House Baratheon,’’ he informed, ‘’though Lord Borros expressed his ardent wish for the sustenance of the marriage pact that was agreed upon.’’

Her brows furrowed in confusion, and the rest of the council shared in it.

‘’A what?’’, Lord Staunton inquired.

‘’A marriage pact,’’ Gerardys repeated, ‘’I must admit I do not know what he speaks of.’’

It was Alicent who cleared up everyone’s inquiries.

‘’He speaks of the offer Aemond made to him when he treated with him,’’ she clarified and chewed on her words, ‘’for Aegon's cause.’’

Rhaenyra sighed, perhaps it was best not to disregard this pact, especially considering what happened with Luke.

‘’Well, the important thing is that we have their fealty, we shall deal with this offer at a later time.’’ She looked at the maester again, ‘’What of House Lannister?’’

‘’Ser Jason Lannister has conveyed his wish to pledge to you.....’’ Gerardys informed, ‘’on one condition.’’

‘’A condition?’’, Lord Bartimos questioned

‘’He requests for the immediate release of his brother, Ser Tyland.’’, Gerardys clarified.

‘’Fucking cunt,’’ Daemon cursed, ‘’what makes him think he's in any position to make any demands?’’

‘’Daemon....’’ she said with a hint of warning, to remind her husband to control himself.

‘’He has seen fit to inform us of the army he has gathered amass Casterly Rock.’’ Gerardys continued, ‘’A thousand knights, seven thousand archers and men at arms who will march towards the Golden tooth should we fail to deliver his kin.’’

She couldn’t help but tense up at that, those numbers were daunting to say the least.

‘’House Lefford, do they have the numbers to challenge them?’’, Lord Bartimos questioned.

Gerardys shook his head.

‘’They already informed that they don’t.’’

‘’I'll deliver his brother myself with his head on a spike.’’ Daemon said, and looked at her with an expression of steel, ‘’let me treat with him, let's see how his pathetic army fares against Caraxes, I can fly there, burn them, and be back within a fortnight.’’

She turned the rings on her fingers and thought it over.

There was nothing to be gained with acting quickly.

‘’Don’t be hasty, husband.’’

‘’He has given us three days to respond,’’ Gerardys said, ‘’should we fail, his host will move.’’

Daemon scoffed.

‘’The gall of that cunt.’’

‘’What is the cause for this surge of confidence?’’ she leaned forward and questioned. ‘’What makes him think his men stand a chance against our dragons?’’

‘’He has scorpions aplenty, your grace, as written in his letter,’’ the maester answered ‘’along with men who specialise in their utilisation.’’

She couldn’t help the dread that filled her at that, scorpions were truly fearsome weapons, especially considering the fact that Dorne itself had managed to bring down a dragon with a mere arrow.

‘’But Ser Tyland bent the knee, did he not?’’, Rhaenys inquired.

Rhaenyra nodded.

‘’He did’’

‘’but Ser Jason and the rest of the lions refuse to do without the immediate release of Tyland, which we have not guaranteed yet.’’, Gerardys added.

Her eyes fell upon Alicent, who looked to be deep in thought as she played with her injured fingertips, reddened with dry blood on them.

‘’Alicent?’’, she urged and encouraged her to voice her thoughts.

‘’Unlike soldiers, if dragons are lost to battle, there's no calling them back, we must proceed cautiously.’’, Alicent suggested.

‘’And what can a Hightower know about dragons?’’, Daemon questioned, though it was clear he wasn’t looking for answers, but a fight.

Alicent tilted her head and accepted the challenge

‘’As a Hightower who is a mother to four children with dragons of their own, I can safely boast of having sufficient knowledge on the matter.’’

Daemon chuckled without mirth

‘’Drivel.’’

‘’I may not care for the beasts, my prince, but I understand their importance, who do you think looked after the upkeep of the dragons we house in Kings Landing?’’

An awkward silence fell upon the table at that question, she could see everyone visibly squirming in their seats at the exchange.

The only person who seemed to be enjoying this was Rhaenys, if the way she smirked at Daemon was anything to go by.

The silence was broken when the person who had been quiet thus far spoke up.

‘’Send me.’’

She looked at the end of the table, where her eldest and heir was looking at her with an expression of steel, it reminded her of Daemon.

‘’Jace?’’

‘’I can talk to him,’’ he said, ‘’convince him to give up his hopeless cause and bend the knee. I'm sure he'll be eager to once he realises the danger his brother is in.’’

She shook her head immediately, knowing full well how foolish it would be to send a young dragon and her son no less to treat with an army.

‘’No.’’

‘’Your grace.’’, Jace said, annoyance dripping from his voice.

‘’I said no.’’, She repeated firmly and dismissed it.

‘’Who do you plan to send then?’’ Rhaenys inquired.

She hummed, not wanting to act without caution.

‘’I shall decide that on the morrow,’’ she declared.

‘’What of the other prisoners in the Red Keep?’’, Rhaenys inquired, unaware of the situation in the Keep because she had just arrived two days ago.

‘’Ser Jasper Wylde bent the knee the day we took Kings Landing, his house followed and so did the rest of the nobles.’’ Lord Bartimos informed

‘’What of Larys Clubfoot?’’ Rhaenys pressed, ‘’And Criston Cole?’’

‘’Unfortunately, they are both missing.’’ Gerardys informed, ‘’But we may yet take comfort in the fact that Ser Simon Strong, the castellan of Harrenhall, has declared for you and ardently assured us that Larys Strong is no lord of theirs.’’

‘’That is comforting news.’’ Rhaenys said as she looked at her with a small smile.

She smiled back, though the unease was ever present.

‘’But this Lannister army....do you think Otto might be behind it?’’, she inquired.

Otto was a shrewd man, and a talented politician, she wouldn’t be surprised if they had been given assurances if their treason were to succeed.

After all, when Ser Tyland bent the knee, the rest of House Lannister should have rightfully followed.

‘’I wouldn’t be surprised if that were the case.’’, Daemon commented.

Everyone seated at the table jerked their heads towards Alicent.

Her future bride looked down, not meeting anyone’s eyes.

‘’I could not say.’’, she said in a small voice.

she could tell there was a piece to the puzzle which was missing. There was something she didn’t know, and it would be foolish to act without having the full information on the matter, and not the only one provided in a raven by their very enemies.

It may very well be a subterfuge to distract and divert their attention.

‘’All right then, let us dismiss for today,’’ she announced, ‘’attend to your duties.’’

Everyone obeyed, and walked out of the council room, with Daemon giving her a smirk and Alicent giving her a worried look before they cleared out.

‘’Cousin.’’, she called out to Rhaenys as she was about to exit, who turned around, ‘’A word?’’

Rhaenys walked back and took her seat once again.

‘’How fares the Seasnake's ships?’’, she inquired in a conversational manner.

‘’My husband's fleet is ready for sail, as is he, you need only command him.’’

She nodded and turned the ball which was placed in it socket, not being able to conceal the gaping hole which had been growing in her chest ever since the whole affair with Lucerys took place.

Rhaenys sensed her uneasiness.

‘’What is it?’’, she inquired gently

Rhaenyra sighed.

‘’These betrothals....’’ she started and bit her lip, ‘’Do you think I made a mistake?’’

Rhaenys leaned back in her chair.

‘’Luke's injury haunts you.’’, she said and didn’t bother to pose it as a question.

‘’I fear I may have miscalculated.’’

Rhaenys spoke up after a long moment of silence.

‘’Kin or not, ant man in your place would have put their enemies to the torch to secure their claim.’’ She leaned forward and looked straight in her eyes, ‘’But you have chosen the path which prevents bloodshed, you have embraced your enemies, you have kept a grip on your impulses. That takes great fortitude, do not let anyone tell you otherwise.’’

She gave a wry smile, feeling much better once she heard those words.

‘’I believe Jace to patient enough to deal with Aegon, especially considering the fact that he was the one who asked for my brother's hand in the first place.’’, she stared.

Rhaenys nodded.

‘’And Aemond?’’

She shook her head.

‘’I have given him leave to free himself,’’ she informed, ‘’he can marry the Baratheon or whomever in the Seven kingdoms he prefers.’’

‘’And yet I have heard news that he sits by Luke's bed, watching him like a hawk as he slumbers.’’

She let out a chuckle without mirth.

‘’I wouldn’t put much hope into it,’’ she dismissed, then smiled genuinely, ‘’though your counsel is as impeccable as always and I am forever grateful for it,’’ she took a deep breath, ‘’which brings me to this.’’

She reached into her gown and took out the pin she had kept concealed there this whole time.

The specific pin of the ‘Hand of the Queen’ because she had yet to name one.

Rhaenys’ face morphed into slight surprise as soon as she comprehended her meaning.

‘’Rhaenyra.’’

‘’Every ruler needs a hand, and I could not ask for a better representative of my voice than yours.’’

Rhaenys looked at the pin her hand for a minute before speaking.

‘’Why not Daemon? or Corlys even?’’

She chuckled and shook her head.

‘’My husband is too ill temperate and yours is best suited to the life of salt and sea.’’

Rhaenys smiled.

‘’You honour me.’’

’’And I ask you to honour me in return, will you accept?’’

She held out the pin with an expectant look on her face, her shoulders sagging with relief and happiness when her cousin took it.

‘’I shall do my best.’’

The sound of oncoming footsteps became clear and both of them jerked their heads towards the open door of the council room where her handmaiden walked in and bowed.

‘’My queen.’’

Both of them jerked their heads towards the open door of the council room where her handmaiden walked in and bowed.

‘’Yes Elinda?’’

Elinda raised her head and smiled.

‘’The Prince Lucerys has regained consciousness.’’

Chapter Text

Jacaerys could practically feel the pressure to act increase day by day since the Lannisters had sent that insolent letter, and now, the third night after the council meeting, things had reached a boiling point.

All of them were in his mother’s chambers, and the adults present-Rhaenys, Rhaenyra, and Daemon-looked surprisingly calm as they sat on the sofas.

He himself, however, could hardly sit still, he had spent the last of the two days trying to convince his mother to act, and he did not understand why she had fail to come to a decision until the need to do so was neigh upon them.

His mother’s calmness as he caressed her swollen belly could not be understood by him.

He simply paced about, walking in a straight line from one end to the other as he voiced out the truth once again.

‘’We can dally no longer; you must come to a decision tonight.’’

His mother let out a mirthless chuckle, likely exhausted by the times her councillors had thrown themselves upon her with their words. Asking her to burn the army, to raise another army, to send the dragons.

‘’And here I didn’t know what my responsibility entailed.’’

He stopped his pacing and simply sighed at the sarcasm behind those words.

‘’Mother...’’

‘’The boy speaks true,’’ Daemon spoke up, legs crossed and as indolent as ever, ‘’we must treat with the cunts soon, unless you have a personal vendetta with House Lefford that requires setting the lions upon them.’’ he smirked in a way that couldn’t be good, ‘’or are you simply going to stand by in hopes of pleasing everyone like my brother did?’’

‘’Mind yourself.’’, Rhaenys said, and the smirk never left Daemon’s face.

‘’Or what, will the honourable lady Hand take offense?’’ he inquired, though it was clear he didn’t need an answer, ‘’I still outrank you as King.’’

‘’And the Queen outranks you still, King Consort,’’ she added with emphasis on the last word, ‘’I will not suffer veiled jibes upon her good name.’’

‘’The Queen also happens to be my Lady wife.’’

‘’The single most tragic truth of the realm.’’

Daemon’s smirk vanished.

‘’You-‘’

‘’Enough,’’, his mother finally interjected in a firm voice, ‘’I will not have my advisors quarrelling amongst each other, there are important matters to discuss.’’

‘’Then you should have chosen a better hand.’’, Daemon parried, the fire in his eyes clear for all to see.

Perhaps it was a blessing that his mother herself was made of the same fire, and was therefore undeterred by the heat.

‘’It does not befit a King Consort to pout,’’, Rhaenyra said, placing emphasis on the title once again, ‘’let us not steer this discussion into lost waters, lest we lose sight of why we gathered in the first place.’’

She was right.

Except she wasn’t being decisive, and nor was she letting him-or anyone else-decide.

‘’We need to send a dragon.’’, he said for the umpteenth time, uncaring that he had repeated those words countless times these last three days.

‘’I'm aware Jace.’’

It didn’t seem like she was aware, if her actions- or lack thereof- was anything to go by.

‘’You must send me, your grace.’’, Rhaenys spoke up, as graceful as ever, ‘’Meleys is your largest dragon after Vhagar, and no stranger to battle.’’, her expression steeled, ‘’I will meet Lord Jason.’’

The Queen immediately shook her head.

‘’A battle is what I seek to avoid, Rhaenys.’’ His mother countered, ‘’My goal to present unity and peace, not rule over a kingdom of ash and bone.’’

‘’So you keep saying, but how do you expect to achieve glory if you keep shrinking from spilling blood as is needed?’’, Daemon inquired, and this time, he waited for an answer.

His mother’s expression could only be called incredulous as the prospect of killing people was put forth.

‘’Spill blood?’’, she repeated as if to mark the horror behind those words, ‘’House Lannister may be at the forefront of the rebellion, but their army consists of men who are fathers, brothers and sons, I will not have their women and children curse my name as they collect their ashes from ruin.’’

‘’The alternative is to let those cunts march, and that won’t be pretty.’’, Daemon quipped.

It didn’t matter what a brood of fishwives and children thought, the protector of the realm had to make difficult decisions, whether willingly or unwillingly, it was a burden all those who wore the crown must bear.

He was the heir, he had to be seen to act for her claim.

‘’Send me.’’, he said with as much determination he could muster, uncaring that his previous attempt had been for naught.

The way his mother let out an exasperated sigh only assured him that he wasn’t going to succeed.

‘’Not again, Jace yo-‘’

‘’My dragon will not be considered a threat,’’, he tried to reason desperately, ‘’I can talk to Lord Jason, tre-‘’

‘’It is as you said, your dragon is young.’’, she looked him straight in the eye, and he saw as much of his mother as he did his queen in those violets, ‘’you lack the experience, you could be taken, or slain.’’ She reasoned, ‘’You are my heir, I cannot risk you.’’

He didn’t want to play the part of the coddled prince.

He could hardly hide the ire behind his voice.

‘’Your grace.’’

But alas, it was for naught once again.

‘’No.’’

‘’This is going nowhere.’’, Daemon remarked, throwing his hands up mockingly in the air.

‘’As much as I loathe to agree with Daemon,’’ Rhaenys said, and sighed, ‘’he is right.’’

A few moments passed in silence before Rhaenyra spoke again, uncaring of the way all three of them had their eyes set upon her, watching her every move as she caressed her belly once again before speaking up.

‘’If it soothes anyone's brow here, I have already chosen an emissary for my cause.’’

His brown furrowed in confusion, so did Rhaenys’, and it was Daemon who voiced the question in everyone’s head.

‘’Who?’’

His mother looked towards the door of the chambers, like she was expecting someone.

‘’He should be here soon.’’

As if on cue, the doors opened and the person that walked in was someone he hadn’t been expecting.

He turned his head to look, as did everyone, like owls who where compelled, and his eyes widened as soon as they fell upon the latest addition in the room.

‘’Aegon,’’ he called out, ‘’what are you doing here?’’

His uncle completely ignored him in favour of standing beside him with plenty of space between them, sparing him no more than a glance.

He couldn’t help but sigh.

His betrothed had been giving him the cold shoulder since the night he pulled him out of the brothel.

And the coldness continued still, as clarified by the way his omega completely ignored him in favour of addressing their queen.

‘’Sister,’’, he said in a polite manner, ‘’you called for me?’’

His mother stood up, the burden of the child she housed making her movements slow as she reached for a scroll of parchment that had bene unassumingly been present there since he had walked in.

‘’Brother, I have an urgent task for you.’’

Aegon’s brows raised, the same bewilderment colouring his beautiful features.

‘’For me?’’

The realisation hit him and crashed into him like the vilest of the ocean waves, ones only found in the throes of storms.

‘’Wait,’’ he spoke up immediately, feeling the panic build in his stomach, ‘’you're sending him to treat with the Lannister army?’’, he inquired and when he received no answer, his dread grew, ‘’you cant be serious!’’

‘’The what army now?’’, Aegon inquired.

and he would have admired his confused adorableness were it not for the fact that his very own mother was sending him to his death.

Rhaenyra walked over to Aegon and held out the scroll for him.

‘’I need you to fly on Sunfyre to Casterly Rock on the morrow,’’, she commanded through a smile, ‘’and deliver this to Lord Jason himself.’’

Aegon’s brows raised and he took the scroll, giving a once over to the red and black ribbon.

‘’And what is this?’’

This had to stop.

‘’Your gr-‘’, he tried to speak, but his queen spoke over him.

‘’A letter expressing my terms, they are to bend the knee in exchange for the release of Lord Tyland.’’

Aegon’s looked at his mother once again, suspicion clear on his face.

‘’And you're entrusting me with this task?’’

He heard a scoff from Daemon.

‘’I did not think you daft, nephew.’’

‘’Daemon.’’, Rhaenyra chided her husband by looking over her shoulder before looking back at Aegon, ‘’Yes, I am placing my trust in you.’’

Aegon looked almost pleased as he took another look at the scroll, spinning it in the hold of his fingers.

He noticed the ring gracing his pinky finger for the first time, golden with a design that looked like dragon scales.

Was it meant to represent Sunfyre?

He would have to ask later on.

But for now, this had to end.

‘’Mother, I-‘’, he spoke up, but was interrupted by Aegon this time.

‘’I just have to deliver this then?’’, Aegon confirmed.

Gods damn it, were they ignoring him?

Had he turned into a ghost?

His mother nodded, and he couldn’t even find the words.

‘’Yes, there is an army amass,’’ she informed, ‘’but we have no reason to believe they will attack unprovoked.’’

This was madness, he couldn’t let this go on.

‘’You can’t send him, mother.’’, he said, glad that he managed to get a full sentence in.

Why not?

‘’Because he's.....’’, he spoke and trailed off, his words caught in his throat when he saw Aegon looking at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher.

Those violets managed to take his breath away, made his heart race like never before.

Because he's a precious omega.

Because he's mine.

‘’You can say it nephew,’’ Aegon chuckled without mirth, ‘’you do not believe I can be relied upon, because unlike you, I'm good for noting, isn’t that right?’’

‘’No that's not what I meant.’’, he denied immediately.

It wasn’t true.

‘’Then why?’’, Aegon inquired and stepped closer until they were but a feet apart, his pupils dilated so much that the violet almost disappeared, his expression suggesting he was holding back his ire.

So prefect.

Gods, did his eyes get even more beautiful?

Or was it because he looked more attractive when he was angry?

‘’Because......’’, he swallowed, feeling like he had walked the deserts of Dorne for days and was thirsting for a droplet water.

Because you deserve to be protected and kept safe.

Because you don’t deserve to be put in danger.

Because I care for you.

Gods, why couldn’t he say anything?

why did had his words failed him at this time?

The smile that Aegon adorned hurt him, it was so unlike his usual ones. It almost seemed like he was using it as a cover to hide himself, none of the usual amusement behind it.

It didn’t suit him one bit, he deserved to smile in a genuine manner.

‘’Because I'm a drunkard and a whore?’’, he inquired in almost a whisper.

His stomach dropped at those words.

Daemon chuckled somewhere behind him, but he couldn’t even hear the sound over his beating heart.

‘’Sister,’’ he regarded his mother, ‘’I shall leave at first light, is there anything else?’’

‘’Yes.’’

His mother now reached for the book of the Seven which laid on the table, and held it out for Aegon.

‘’I need you to swear to me under the eyes of the Seven,’’ she ordered, ‘’if you take this message, you will go as a messenger, not a warrior.’’

His uncle tilted his head.

‘’Meaning?’’

‘’Meaning you are not to participate in any sort of fighting, be it your dragon or your sword.’’, his mother clarified.

Aegon placed a hand on the book, never breaking his gaze from his mother’s eyes.

‘’I swear it.’’

His mother gave a satisfied nod and stepped back.

Aegon turned around to leave and his body moved of its own accord, blocking Aegon’s path and trying not to be distracted by that sweet scent which was almost drowned out by the wine his uncle always indulged in.

‘’No.’’ He spoke firmly, ‘’You cannot.’’

Aegon moved closer until their faces were inches apart, making him want to take a step back.

But he didn’t, he held his ground.

‘’Move, nephew, or you will be moved.’’

He couldn’t help the chill than ran down his spine at those words.

Was his uncle even capable of being as fearsome a he was right now?

‘’This should be good.’’, he only heard Daemon say.

For his eyes were glued to Aegon, as they always were whenever he was in the room, or in his general proximity.

His betrothed walked out by circling him, purposefully making sure that their shoulders bumped as he passed him.

He heard the echo of his omega’s footsteps as he walked out, as he remained standing there like an idiot.

He heard his mother call out for him but he walked out of the room nonetheless, and by the time he arrived in the hallway, Aegon was nowhere to be found.

He walked in one direction aimlessly, and saw Addam coming towards him, though he couldn’t care less about his presence.

‘’Milord?’’, he heard him call.

And yet he paid him no attention and continued his advance, crossing his mother’s trusted knight without giving him another glance.

He could feel his blood roaring, his fists clenching like they were itching to punch something.

He stopped for a few seconds and took a moment to think about where he was.

Having made his decision, he took a deep breath to calm his senses and alpha nature which was screaming at him to run wild, to do something-anything.

He turned by the corner of the hallway with determined steps, his destination clear in his mind.

Heading straight for the dragon pit.

Chapter Text

Aegon gulped down the last of the third-or fifth maybe, he couldn’t recall-goblet of wine he had poured himself that day as stood in the dragon pit, waiting for the dragonkeepers to bring Sunfyre out for a ride.

As soon as his beautiful baby came, he handed off the goblet to one of the servants, and couldn’t stop the beaming smile that spread on his face as Sunfyre bent his neck and nudged him in the torso, nor could he stop himself from petting him and cooing at him.

Gods, he had missed him, had missed riding him, had missed his little happy wails that he always greeted him with.

Sunfyre was the only one who was always happy to see him, the only one in his family who didn’t see him as a drunken whore, didn’t curse at him, didn’t slap him in the face, didn’t take out his frustrations on him.

The only one who didn’t seek to berate him, and showered him with unconditional affection.

The only one who soothed him in his time of need.

**

Aegon flew to Casterly Rock with more than a thousand thoughts swirling in his head.

Mainly about the fact that his nephew-whom he didn’t like- was having an effect on him, one he also didn’t like.

It had begun since the night Jacaerys had dragged him out of the brothel, likely to do his duty and prevent his ‘betrothed’ from besmirching his good name, an action he found useless because he knew what this farce of an arrangement would end up in.

He misliked the way his omegan nature had preened at the attention from an alpha, and misliked the fact that a part of him thought Jace might actually see him as more than the uncle he was forced to be betrothed to for the sake of the appearance of unity and generosity towards enemies his sister was aiming for.

Therefore, he kept his distance, and had decided to wait out his days until his idiot nephew was no longer bound to him, after that, he would be free to do as he pleased.

That is, until last night happened.

‘’No, you cannot.’’

Who the fuck did Jace think he was? he had no right to order him.

He was about to refuse his dear sister, and kindly ask her to send someone more capable, but he couldn’t ignore the fact that it was the first time someone had entrusted him with such an important task.

That and the fact that Jace-the prick- didn’t think he would be successful, if the way he desperately tried to stop him was anything to go back, and he would be lying if he didn’t accept it out of absolute defiance for that self righteous heir.

He had barely resisted the urge punch him in his perfect teeth.

His thoughts were diverted when the banners of red and gold became visible to him atop the great height he flew on.

He directed Sunfyre to land a small distance away from what could only be called an army camp, if the red tents, the armoured men, and the scorpions-which had conveniently been pointed towards him since the moment the men caught sight of him- were anything to go by.

Feeling intimidated, he nuzzled his face into Sunfyre’s warm and shiny scales, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath to expel the anxiousness he felt at what he was about to do.

He opened his eyes as Sunfryre let out a small sound of comfort. Not being able to resist, he pressed a soft kiss on his pretty scales and whispered what might be his last words to his dear friend.

''If I don’t return, make sure you burn the bookshelves in my rooms, or better yet, burn the entire wing I reside in.''

There were certain books in there that would make his mother scream to kingdoms come, and perhaps lead to her untimely death. He didn’t like her, but not enough to send the woman to an early grave.

Not to mention the fact that he was probably going to die here, and if he did, he didn’t want his mother hounding him in heaven just yet.

Gods knew the woman would pray even after she made it to heaven, rather than enjoy the fruits of her labour with a cup of wine.

He walked into the camp with the letter from his half-sister concealed beneath the cloak he wore, and as expected, the men gave him glances, and other stared outright.

He resisted the urge to squirm, keeping his feet steady over the dizziness he felt from the wine.

It was like had been sent to the lions with meat hung around his neck.

Or maybe he was the meat himself? oh dear gods.

One of the soldiers approached him, clad in his armour of red and gold, a lion embedded on his chest, and bowed.

‘’My prince.’’

Gods the Lannister’s sigil was ugly.

‘’I bring a message for Lord Jason from my sister,’’ he thought it over, ‘’The Queen.’’

The soldier nodded knowingly and urge him to follow him.

‘’This way, my prince.’’

He followed the man in the ugly armour towards the largest tent which was placed right in the middle of the camp, leaving no doubt of the fact that this was a commander’s temporary residence.

The boy stood by the side of the entrance which was guarded by yet another two guards, and taking his lead, walked right in.

He had expected to see the face of the Lannister who shared the same features as the one who was currently imprisoned in the dungeons of the Red Keep, clad in red armour and a head of blonde hair that would make him gag.

Instead, he found neither of those things in the person who sat on one of the chairs by the table, idly sipping on something from a golden glass-seriously why was everything gold?

At this point, he wouldn’t be surprised if the Lannisters shit gold.

The person didn’t have golden hair, no red armour, and nor did he have the face he had expected to be greeted by.

The person in question was his very own nephew.

Jacaerys fucking Velaryon.

He resisted the urge to sneer, and once he recovered from his shock, he spoke with the best smile he could master, holding back from strangling his kin right then and there.

''Nephew, what a pleasant surprise, and here I thought I was the sole emissary representing our Queen.''

The smug idiot smiled right back.

‘’My dear betrothed,’’ he said in an exaggerated manner, ‘’I took it upon myself to participate in the negotiations and lend a helping hand, I hope you don’t mind.’’

He absolutely minded; this was his mission.

It didn’t go unnoticed by him that Jacaerys was still referring to him as his betrothed, as if it wasn’t just for show.

‘’I trust your ride was pleasant.’’, his nephew added once he stood there a few moments, trying his best to conceal his ire.

His ride utter dragon shit, not to mention the fact that he had nearly shit himself at the prospect of treating with Lord Jason.

To think that he would have had to deal with Lords everyday if he sat the throne.

See mother, I knew I wasn’t suited to be king.

‘’It was most pleasant, thank you for asking.’’, he faked a grin, ‘’Are you Here to lend your gravitas to our little diplomatic shindig? How fortuitous.’’

‘’I’m here to ensure the negotiations proceed smoothly.’’, he answered, unbothered as ever.

Of course, his nephew decided to play nursemaid to him,

What did he think, that he would sign away their coffers or something?

He would, but only for the development of the brothels in Fleabottom, those places could certainly use some help.

‘’Make yourself comfortable, Lord Lannister will be joining us in a moment.’’, Jace said, gesturing to the seat beside him.

He wanted to frown; he didn’t want to be seated next to him.

But the alternative was to sit on the opposite side to where Lord Jason would no doubt take his place, and that was worse.

Much worse.

So, he gave up, and being the mature person he was, took his place next to Jace, completely ignoring the scent of dragon he was covered in.

How did he not take note of Vermax? Surely, he must be situated somewhere nearby.

He dismissed that, unlike Sunfyre, Vermax was a slip of a dragon, easily concealed between the trees.

Not to mention he was the ugliest shade of green one could find after his mother’s dresses and Vhagar, the old hag.

Only a few moments passed before the man they had been waiting for entered in all his lion-esque glory, a smile on his face as he didn’t bow, and took his place opposite to them form the table.

Rude.

‘’I see the queen sent her finest, not one but two envoys,’’ Jason said as he sat, his armour clanking, ‘’Have you brought an entire brood of dragons or is this your usual entourage?’’

Great, now here it stared. Nothing like facing down a bloodthirsty Lannister with nothing but a grin and a vague promise of peace, further confined by the oath he had made not to take part in any fighting.

‘’I assure you, my lord,’’, Jace started beside him, ‘’We’ve come to discuss terms, not to engage in warfare.’’

Ah, Jace, the ever-vigilant. Aegon was sure he’s just here to make sure he doesn’t trip over his own feet. It’s was sweet, really, if he liked his nephew's need to prove Aegon's incompetence served with a side of condescension.

‘’I see you've garnered quite the host here,’’ he felt the need to add, to say something, ‘’in a short span of two weeks no less.’’

‘’Yes, my men are most eager to receive their orders,’’ Jason’s smile widened, ‘’and what a shame it would be to deny their most ardent wish.’’

He swallowed before he could help it, resisting the urge to squirm in place.

Focus, Aegon, don’t let him see you sweat.

‘’Well, that is why we're here,’’, Jace said, calm as ever, ‘’let us hope we reach a most...’’ he considered his words, ‘’peaceful conclusion before the sun falls.’’

Jason leaned closer to the table, clasping his armoured hands over the wood he rested them on.

‘’To march, or not to march, that is the question.’’, his smile widened, ‘’Though I must clarify, I myself am most eager to reach a peaceful conclusion as well.’’

Eager doesn’t even begin to cover it. The man had probably been pacing a hole in the floor waiting for this. But no pressure. Just a matter of single-handedly untangling this mess and not accidently starting a war in the process.

Aegon, the reluctant diplomat, everyone.

He reached into his cloak and took out the scroll of parchment he had kept safe, placing it in the middle of the table.

He had read it, of course, and of course it took him nearly two times the time it would take for a normal person to do so.

It wasn’t his fault my any means, his sister’s writing was atrocious, it gave him a headache which certainly wasn’t caused by the booze.

‘’Her grace sent this.’’

Jason took the parchment, and opened the ribbon to look at the contents.

He spoke up after he had given the man a few moments to read it over.

‘’A you can see, the queen's offer is straightforward,’’ he straightened his back in the chair, ‘’Bend the knee, and we shall have your brother set free on the morrow.’’

Jason hummed and placed the parchment back on the table as if he was discarding trash, as if Aegon hadn’t made a conscious effort to keep it safe thus far.

Rude again.

‘’If I do agree, what guarantees do I have that this isn’t just another ploy?’’ The Lannister inquired, ‘’As far a I know, my brother's head might be rotting on a spike already.’’

‘’Rest assured, my lord,’’, Jace answered. ‘’the queen does not make a habit of executing nobles, no matter how grievous their treasonous ways may be.

He could hear the subtle tone of barely concealed anger beneath his nephew’s voice.

Honestly, was he trying to get them killed?

‘’As my nephew so eloquently put,’’ he spoke with a smile, ‘’you have the Queen’s word that your brother remains unharmed, her honour is not to be questioned.’’

Jason nodded.

‘’Very well then, have my brother delivered, and I shall bend the knee.’’

‘’The conditions explicitly state that you're required to bend the knee first.’’, he parried.

Was he illiterate? Did he even read the damn parchment?

The Lannister cunt smiled.

‘’Then that is where we disagree.’’

He leaned back in his seat, and though his smile faded, he masterfully held back the scoff that wanted out.

‘’Are you suggesting we sit here all day then?’’, he inquired.

If he was to do that, he wanted wine, and preferably fifty feet of distance between him and his nephew.

He would rather be in a brothel somewhere, drowning his frustrations in Dornish red.

But no, here he was, playing diplomat.

‘’I am suggesting we find an alternate solution.’’, Jason quipped.

‘’How about a formal decree then?’’, Jace suggested, ‘’signed and sealed by both parties.’’

He kept his expression even and didn’t roll his eyes like he wanted to at that.

Nothing said ‘I care about diplomacy’ like endless paperwork. He was just here for the show, apparently.

Well, if the show ended with everyone happy and not dead, he would consider it a win.

How tedious.

Jason thought it over, then nodded.

‘’I suppose that is acceptable.’’

‘’I’ll ensure the agreement reflects all the necessary details. It’s important that there’s no ambiguity.’’ Jacaerys added, ‘’This will include the exact terms of your brother’s release, and the conditions of your fealty.’’

Yes, yes, get on with it.

Of course, his nephew’s over-preparation would save them all.

Meanwhile, he was just sitting there pretending that this wasn’t the most tedious game of ‘let’s see how many ways we can complicate things.’

Aegon had to suppress a sigh. It was almost laughable how Jace’s idea of diplomacy was to bury everyone under a mountain of paperwork.

‘’I expect no less than my brother's immediate release once we’ve agreed.’’, Jason said.

‘’And the queen expects no less than your loyalty and the immediate dissolution of your host.’’, Jacaerys answered.

‘’It shall be done,’’ the Lannister agreed, ‘’now, shall we have my maesters write up a draft of the decree?’’

Thank the gods, it was ending, just a signing of parchment and he would be free.

But of course, his nephew had to ruin it.

‘’That won’t be necessary,’’, Jace said, and he saw him looking at him from his periphery, ‘’we shall do it ourselves, we need but a few hours, ink and parchment.’’

A few hours? Oh, the horror.

He had been expecting death, but apparently the gods thrived in inflicting torture.

He couldn’t think of a worse form of torture than having to spend time with one’s dweeb of a nephew, while having to read and write, his second least favourite activity.

The first one was having to wash his hair.

‘’There is one last matter, my prince.’’, Jason said, his tone unexpectedly soft now.

What now? weren’t they in agreement?

He could feel his patience wearing thin. Aegon just wanted to get back to a place where his biggest concern was picking the right shade of wine for dinner.

‘’By all means, speak it.’’, Jace said, patient as ever.

His nephew’s serious demeanour was a constant reminder of how much he preferred the simpler, more relaxed company of his own friends. The irony wasn’t lost on him: he had to play the diplomat while his nephew embodied the very image of everything he found tiresome.

‘’I want a personal guarantee from the queen herself, in writing, that no retribution will follow,’’, Jason requested, ‘’you must understand, my actions were simply a product of the concern I share for my kin.’’

If only he could get through this without needing a new drink every five minutes.

He saw Jace nodding from his periphery.

‘’It shall be done.’’

‘’I see were all agreed then,’’, the Lannister smiled, ‘’I shall leave you to it.’’

Once the Lord walked out, he let out the breath he didn’t even know he had been holding as the clanking of armour got progressively farther by each second, and subsequently disappeared.

‘’Well, that went well,’’, Jace said, and turned his body towards him in the chair, giving him his full attention, ‘’Are you all right?’’, he inquired in a tone which could be mistaken for gentle.

He looked at Jace’s expression, not choosing to name it, and then scoffed but didn’t answer.

That voice-once again-sounded like Jace actually cared.

Chapter Text

Jacaerys sat at the table Jason Lannister had left them alone at, his face ducked down and completely focused on the parchment he wrote on with ink and quill.

‘’What’s taking so long?’’, Aegon inquired for the umpteenth time, sounding like a child who was waiting for their favourite treat.

He couldn’t help the smile that creeped up on him at that, hand still moving in a steady rhythm of dipping the quill into the ink and writing.

Blessedly, Aegon had continued sitting beside him, albeit improperly because his betrothed had settled himself with both his feet up on the table, leaving the remainder of the wood for him to attend to his task.

‘’I’m almost done,’’ he informed, dipping his quill in the ink again, ‘’I just need to add a few clauses.’’

‘’Dearest nephew of mine, if we add any more clauses to this decree, we’ll need a scroll the size of a dragon’s wing.’’ Aegon said with humorous annoyance, ‘’Are you sure we need all this detail? Its making things cumbersome.’’

Ah, yes, his omega was determined to remind him of their familial relation each time he referred to him, as if he wanted to erase what they were now, what they soon would be.

Well, two could play this game.

‘’It’s not about making things cumbersome, my dearest betrothed.’’ He said while enunciating each word as much as he could, ‘’It’s about ensuring everything is clear and leaves no room for confusion. We need to cover both the immediate and the ceremonial aspects of Lord Jason’s surrender.’’

‘’Right.’’ Aegon yawned from boredom ‘’So, we’ve got him bending the knee at the coronation.’’ He repeated their earlier discussion, ‘’But what’s this about him bending the knee to you before that? Sounds like we’re adding a bit of personal drama into the mix.’’

He hummed and kept writing, the sound of the scribbling all too loud in the proximity they shared.

‘’Well, it’s a matter of ensuring he shows his loyalty.’’ He informed, ‘’He has to bend the knee to me after his brother arrives, and then at the coronation, he’ll formally pledge to the queen. It’s about reinforcing his submission and commitment.’’

Aegon snorted.

‘’And perhaps we should add a clause about the exact height of his bow and the number of witnesses required. Wouldn’t want any ambiguity in the ceremonial procedure.’’

He couldn’t help but chuckle, his omega was adorable.

‘’I think we can skip the specifics on the bowing.’’ He hummed, ‘’But it’s crucial to include that his initial kneeling to me is a prerequisite for his brother’s release, and the final pledge at the coronation to the queen.’’

Besides, he would make sure that Jason would kneel and pledge to him in the presence of the entirely of his army and his house. The man, despite his insolence, wouldn’t want to be seen as a someone who went back on his word, lest he hurt his credibility.

Aegon groaned in frustration.

‘’And while we’re at it, why don’t we throw in a note about him needing to wear his finest garb for the occasion? A touch of grandeur to mark the moment, perhaps?’’

He smiled and remained undeterred in his work, more than happy to indulge his uncle’s annoyance at being stuck with him while being deprived of his drink of choice.

All they had in the tent to consume was water and other fruit, he had specifically instructed the squire serving them to not bring any wine the moment he had arrived, the last thing he needed was for his uncle to become drunk and defenceless in an enemy’s army encampment full of alphas.

‘’The attire can be left to his discretion. The important part is making it clear that his brother’s release is contingent on the kneeling to me and that the final submission at the coronation fulfills all terms.’’

‘’Alright, so we’re agreed. The kneeling to you, nephew’’, Aegon repeated, ‘’followed by the formal pledge at the coronation. Simple and straightforward.’’

He hummed in agreement and nodded.

‘’Exactly.’’ He concurred, and dipped his quill again, ‘’I’ll ensure the decree specifies as such. This way, there’s no room for misinterpretation.’’

It would be a lie to say that he didn’t enjoy this situation, he had wished to spend time alone with his uncle since the day they took King’s Landing, but unfortunately his betrothed had kept his distance from him ever since the day he had dragged him out of the brothel.

He had wanted to apologise for his behaviour before Aegon left on Sunfyre, wanted to let him know that he didn’t think of him in that way.

‘’Keep it concise.’’ Aegon instructed, shifting his feet on the table, ‘’We don’t need to turn this into an epic saga of bows and formalities.’’

He chuckled.

‘’Understood, my dearest betrothed.’’

He worked on the decree for a few more moments and made sure the ink was dry before looked up and looking behind him to meet his uncle’s eyes who were unfortunately set upon the ceiling.

This angle was more than enough to take his breath away and he would have continued staring at him like fool if Aegon didn’t notice his stare and turned his head to look at him with confusion.

He tore his eyes away and cleared his throat, feeling parched for some reason.

‘’Take a look.’’, he held out the parchment and gave it to Aegon.

Meanwhile, he hastily reached the glass of water and proceeded to gulp it down greedily, immediately realising that the cool liquid running down his throat did nothing to quell his thirst.

Aegon’s beautiful eyes widened into something akin to horror as soon a he laid them on the paper.

‘’By the gods, Jacaerys,’’ he said almost breathlessly, ‘’this decree is more tangled than the hair of a wild wolf. How many layers of formality do we need?”

He tried not to be too pleased at the fact that his uncle had called his name, though he would much prefer him to say it in a different sort of manner, with more need, in a much different tone.

He concealed those impure thoughts just as quickly and hurried to explain himself.

 “Each layer is necessary to ensure there’s no room for error. We can’t afford to be ambiguous in matters of state.”

 “Ambiguous?’’ Aegon shook his head, ‘’If we add any more clauses, Jason Lannister might need a new castle just to store the scrolls.”

He smiled.

“Better to be thorough than to face questions later. Precision now saves us trouble in the future.”

“Seven hells, Jacaerys,’’ Aegon said as he continued looking over the words, ‘’this reads like a tome of laws and legends. If you keep piling on the formalities, we might just need a cart just to carry it all.”

He chuckled and turned around to grab a smaller piece of parchment, one that could be carried by a raven, dipping his quill in the ink.

‘’Let’s make sure we write to my mother as well, we need a letter in writing that states no retribution will follow after this.’’

After all, it was one of the express conditions Jason Lannister had demanded in exchange for his fealty.

Aegon took his feet off the table and placed the parchment back with little care. He knew for a fact that his betrothed gave up on reading it halfway.

‘’Yes, yes, get on with it.’’, he said with annoyance.

He simply stole glances as his uncle propped up his head in his hand with his elbow on the table, seemingly exhausted by this whole affair.

He couldn’t blame him; they had been here the entire day and the sun had fallen already. He felt great responsibility in making sure to stay alert for both of them.

‘’Are you all right?’’, he inquired in a small voice after a few moments of silence.

His uncle pushed himself off from his hand looked at him like he was dirt beneath his feet.

‘’That’s the second time you’ve asked me that nephew.’’, Aegon said in a dry voice.

‘’Because you haven’t answered me.’’, he parried back, looking at him intently.

His uncle scoffed again and gave him that smile once again, the one he hated, the one which had no sincerity in it, the one which had no amusement.

It grated at him, made his chest ache.

‘’I am all right, as you can see,’’ Aegon said mockingly ‘’thank you for your concern.’’

He took a deep breath and set the quill down for the moment, turning in his chair to give his omega his full attention.

‘‘I am sorry.’’, he apologised.

‘’For what?’’

‘’For not clarifying it sooner.’’

Aegon sighed and shook his head like he was dealing with an obnoxious child.

‘’Nephew, if you could just stop speaking in riddles then it would be much appre-‘’

‘’I don’t think of you as a drunkard,’’ he finally blurted out, ‘’or a whore, for that matter.’’

He could see Aegon’s face contort, his throat bobbing as it worked its way through a swallow, his voice firmer as he regarded him.

‘’Nephew.’’

‘’And the only reason I followed you here was because I was worried.’’, he pressed on.

‘’Worried i would spoil the negotiations.’’

Is that what he thought?

‘’Worried about you.’’, he amended, and leaned in into his face, hoping to convey the earnestness of his actions.

Aegon turned his head and looked down at the parchment again, making it so that his silver tresses covered his face.

As if he was hiding from him, hiding those beautiful violets from him to keep him from looking into his soul that he very much wanted to etch himself into.

It was only fair considering how much his uncle had consumed his very being with just his presence.

“Let us prepare two copies of the decree and retain one for our own archives.”, his uncle said in an uncharacteristically small voice.

‘’A sound proposal.’’, he complimented.

Not being able to take it anymore, he reached out and used his finger to take the curtain of those beautiful tresses and tucked them behind his ear, keeping his actions slow and gentle as those delightful features came into view once again.

He could see his uncle visibly tense at the action, his gaze still set on the parchment, though he could tell his mind was completely elsewhere.

He hoped he affected Aegon as much as he affected him.

He could feel his hear hammering in his chest as soon as he spotted the ruby stud Aegon had on his ear, could feel the giddiness taking over him as he put together the fact that he had put that piece of jewellery there by his own hands.

‘’You’re still wearing it.’’, he whispered out in almost disbelief.

He could feel something blooming inside him, something which had already been planted since the day he saw his uncle in that throne room, since the day he had sat beside him at that family dinner.

Aegon finally broke out of his trance practically squirmed in his seat.

‘’Yes well,’’ his uncle said, looking at anywhere but him, ‘’I simply neglected to remove it.’’

He could feel his lips curl in a smile, he could tell that Aegon wasn’t the type of omega who indulged in jewellery, but he wanted to cover him pearls, rubies, and emeralds alike, though he was sure that even the fines of gemstones wouldn’t compare to his beauty.

‘’It would gladden my heart if you kept it on,’’ he said, ‘’at least until the wedding when I-‘’

He was interrupted when Aegon suddenly stood up from his seat so fast that the chair he had been sitting on fell behind him from the impact, it startled him to say the least.

‘’Its stifling in here,’’ his uncle said, ‘’I’m going to make my way to Sunfyre, check on him.”

He saw Aegon hurriedly walking out and made move to stand up himself.

‘’I shall come wi-‘’

‘’No.’’

‘’But it’s not saf-‘’

‘’Absolutely not.’’

The tone with which his betrothed dismissed him made sure there was no room left for argument, leaving him in completely silence and nothing but the remainder of his sweet scent which dissipated at a rate faster that he would have liked.

He plopped back down in his chair, feeling his shoulders slump down with dejection coursing through every drop of his blood.

He kept looking at the flaps of the tent for the next few minutes as if he could will Aegon to come back inside and say that he changed his mind, despite knowing full well how futile all of it was.

He couldn’t help but frown.

Why were his attempts being rebuked so vehemently?

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra paced about the floor of her chambers, moving back on forth from one point to another as she watched the setting from her balcony, turning the rings on her fingers as the sky got progressively darker and darker until it was pitch black.

Daemon had already left after supper to venture out into the city and make sure his men in the city watch had nothing new to report.

The door to her chambers were already open, and she turned her head around as soon as she saw a flicker of green in her periphery, fully knowing who the visitor was.

After all, she had been expecting the arrival of her future bride sooner than late.

‘’Rhaenyra....’’, Alicent said, practically marching inside with distress clear on her face, her dress fluttering about, her hair loose and wild.

‘’Alicent, I was just ab-’’

‘’Is it true?’’, His childhood companion inquired, her tone demanding.

‘’Is what true?’’, she inquired back, even though she knew what the woman was referring to.

‘’That you sent my son to parley with Lord Jason.’’, Alicent said, spitting out the words like they were venom on her tongue, her eyes glazed over and larger than she had ever seen them.

It reminded her of their childhood, reminded her of those days where they had nothing but each other to confide in, reminded her of days where she would rest her head on her lap and look up at her face, admiring her features and the melody of her voice as she read to him.

But the concern of a mother was palpable to her, she recognized it without any difficulty.

It was like looking in a mirror.

‘’Yes I did but-‘’

‘’How could you?!’’ Alicent exclaimed, throwing her hands up and pacing about without any aim, ‘’This is utterly reckless!’’ she rubbed her face with her hands, ‘’This is madness!’’

She took a deep breath and reached for her betrothed.

‘’Alicent,’’ she started gently, ‘’I understand your fears but please calm your-‘’

‘’Try to calm?” she interrupted in a delirious voice, stepping back before she could touch her, ‘’How am I to remain calm when my son, an omega, is exposed to such peril?’’ she placed a hand on her chest which kept heaving, ‘’The dangers he faces are more dire than you know. What if alphas fall upon him—how could you permit this?’’

‘’He rides upon Sunfyre.’’, she reminded in a patient voice.

‘’That offers me no solace.’’ She sniffed, looking like she was close to breaking down, ‘’You read the missive—they have scorpions, for the love of the Seven!’’

‘’Rest assured, I have taken measures.’’, she informed gently.

Despite the fears both of them faced, at least one of them had to remain calm.

She was glad to see confusion take place on Alicent’s face, it was leagues better than the distress she had previously been in.

‘’What measures?’’

‘’I have dispatched Addam and Nettles to follow him.’’

Her betrothed’s brows furrowed, and she resisted the urge to close in and kiss that frown off her face.

‘’What?’’

‘’The Dragonseeds have taken to their dragons to trail Aegon,’’ she caressed her belly and sat down on one of the sofas, ‘’though they do so in secrecy. Addam patrols the rock for any changes, concealed by the clouds, while Nettles remains stationed at the Golden Tooth.’’

The only ones who knew of this scheme were Daemon and Rhaenys, and her reckless son would have known it too if he hadn’t walked out of the room in a fit while ignoring her calls.

She didn’t blame him, rage was a primal part of an alpha’s instincts, and her heir was an alpha through and through, not to mention the fact that in these moments she could see the effects of Daemon’s parenting unveil themselves.

Something which wasn’t surprising, her husband could influence anyone in a matter of hours, and six years was a long time.

‘’So my son is not alone?’’, Alicent walked closer, fiddling with her fingers and picking at her already bloody cuticles.

She cringed at the sight but kept her eyes on the immediate goal of calming her future bride, there would be time to tend to her wounds later.

‘’No, he is not’’ she assured, ‘’Should Addam sense even the faintest hint of danger to Aegon or Sunfyre, his orders are explicit.’’

Alicent’s eyes widened in something akin to horror this time and she took a step closer to where she was seated.

‘’What are those orders?’’, she whispered out, though it was clear that she knew the answer very well.

‘’He is to send word to Nettles, who will then join forces with him to lay waste to the Lannister host.’’, she said with determination.

She saw Alicent’s slender throat bob in as she considered her words and everything they meant, the weight of them making her walk over and take a seat beside her, she could tell they weighed heavily on her.

She could understand it all too, well. As Queen, she was meant to untie the realm against a common foe, it was a responsibility her father had entrusted her with, why she was named heir in the first place.

She was supposed to be a protector of the realm, and the last thing she wanted to do was to send the dragons to war, to loose horrors which would tear the realm apart.

But nor could she seem to appear weak, nor could she have her rule be questioned just because she was the gentler sex.

If she was compelled to, she would not back down from securing her inheritance.

‘’But’’ Alicent started, still fiddling with her fingers, ‘’if something were to befall Aegon before then, it would be too late. He stands alone amidst the enemy’s camp.’’

She turned her head to look at her childhood companion, her beautiful eyes downcast, her long lashes fluttering against her cheeks.

‘’Who said he was alone?’’

Alicent looked up to meet her eyes and she gave him a small smile.

‘’What do you mean?’’

‘’Jacaerys trailed Aegon.’’ She thought it over, ‘’though if we’re being precise, my son likely reached Casterly Rock before yours did.’’

Alicent’s brows furrowed.

‘’But you did not command him to do so.’’

‘’I did not.’’

‘’So he slipped away without your leave?’’

‘’Yes, he did.’’

After her siblings and sons had both managed to successfully escape the Red Keep without anyone’s notice, she had put protocols in place to ensure she knew their comings and goings.

‘’And you permitted it?’’

‘’I did.’’

She knew her son and the extent of the duty he supposed he owed Aegon as his betrothed, knew that his hotter blood would prevail sooner than late.

Knew very well that her son was a dragon, and dragon was no slave, that he couldn’t be controlled, only tamed to a certain extent.

But it didn’t change the fact that her son had disobeyed a direct order, and though it spoke volumes of his ability to take charge, she was divided on the matter entirely.

The queen in her told her that her heir taking the initiative to secure their claim was a noble and fierce act, one that should be feted.

The mother in her told her that her son was a witless fool who had put himself into danger without sparing any thought to her.

‘’Why did you dispatch Aegon?’’ Alicent inquired after a few moments of silence, ‘’Why not one of your more formidable dragons, or even Aemond for that matter?’’

She nodded, understanding the logic of it very well. It could be argued that her other dragons and family members were better suited to treat with lord Jason.

‘’The other dragons are mighty and awe-inspiring, but I needed to convey that we seek not conflict, but peace.’’ She turned the ring on her finger, ‘’Sending Aegon serves to show that my hand is steady and I hold all our dragons in check, even Vhagar.’’

Alicent gave her a nod, seemingly coming around to the idea, her breaths evening out by each second that passed.

And though she hadn’t told Alicent of this, she knew very well that it was quite strange that Lord Jason had taken it upon himself to garner an army even though Lord Tyland had bent the knee.

She knew it was a subterfuge, a ruse used to draw her focus away, knew Otto Hightower was somehow behind this.

Though she had yet to uncover the entirely of the scheme, but it would come in due course.

‘’I wish you had confided in me before taking such a risk.’’ Alicent confessed.

She broke out of her thoughts to see her future bride working on brutalizing her cuticles again.

She intervened this time, placing a hand on top of hers, feeling the soft skin of her delicate hands, remembering the tourney the two of them had watched together the day she lost her mother.

‘’I apologize,’’ she said sincerely, ‘’but no one understands the peril more than I do. My own son and heir faces the same threats as yours.’’

Alicent shook her head, her face grimacing as tears built up in her eyes again. The tears of a mother who wanted nothing more that to have her son in her arms, safe a breathing.

She wanted the same.

‘’Gods,’’ she said in a wet voice ‘’Rhaenyra, if anything were to happen...’’, her chest heaved again due to ragged breaths.

She didn’t waste anytime in grabbing both of her hands and keeping them in a firm but comforting grip.

‘’Nothing will come to pass. Just steady yourself and breathe.’’, she instructed.

‘’But-‘’

‘’Breathe.’’

Luckily her instructions were taken to heart and the two of them looked at each other straight in the eyes and took simultaneous and harmonious deep breaths until they even out once again.

‘’Well done.’’, she complimented with a smile.

Alicent sniffed and tear rolled down her cheek, shining in the light of the hearth and moonlight combined.

She let go of one of her hands in favour of placing it on her wet cheek, using a thumb to wipe the salty essence away, smearing it on that smooth skin.

Her future bride froze, doe eyes looking up at her like she hadn’t expected her to do that.

But her hand had a mind of its own, it trailed down until it was set on her jaw, her thumb brushing over her plump and inviting lip, watching her mouth part, the hint of her teeth showing itself.

Both of their heads leaned in slowly yet deliberately, the silence filled with nothing but the crackling of the hearth which roared some distance away. Their lips inched closer and closer, and she wanted nothing more than to kiss and kiss an-

‘’Your grace.’’

Both of them scrambled away from each other at maester Gerardys’ voice. Alicent practically jolted on the seat while she found herself on her feet in record time, despite the burden of the child she was carrying inside her.

She looked down at the floor, noting the bricks and their arrangement for the first time, nothing several imperfections which were present, finding it very interesting to occupy her time with over the hammering of her heart.

 ‘’Yes, Grand Maester,’’ she said hurriedly, keeping her eyes firmly down, ‘’how may I assist you?’’

‘’There has been a raven.’’

‘’Yes, I receive ravens regularly; I am the queen, after all.’’, she still couldn’t bring herself to look up, feeling her cheeks heat up like she was a maiden all over again, not the mother of five children with a sixth on the way.

She heard footsteps and looked up to see the good maester hand out a small scroll to her.

‘’This one is from Casterly Rock.’’

She took it quickly and unrolled it, barely noticing as Alicent came up beside her to peer into it.

Chapter Text

Aegon sat at the same table he and his lovely nephew had worked on the treaty for the last few hours, watching as Jason Lannister read through the parchment, silently and begrudgingly commending his effort for keeping his concentration through the numerous clauses which he himself couldn’t be bothered to go through.

He would rather spend a year in the Quiet Isle with a vow of celibacy than bother himself with detangling the horror that were Jacaerys’ terms.

“So, just to be clear,’’ Jason started, eyes still on the parchment, ‘’the first term states that I’m to bend the knee to you, Prince Jacaerys, once my brother arrives on dragonback. ‘’

He resisted the urge to scoff with every fibre of his being.

With the way the he phrased it; it seemed like the Lannister was being asked to give up his firstborn. Its not like they were asking him to twirl around in a dress, just to bend the knee and say the vows, how hard can it be?

Even he managed to get on his knees for is coronation, he was proud of himself for not stumbling, despite the fact that he had spent the night in a brothel, followed with hiding in the Sept before he was dragged out like a stray.

“Correct.’’ Jacaerys confirmed, ‘’Once your brother arrives, you will acknowledge the authority of the crown’s heir. It’s a gesture of good faith and respect for the new order.”

He felt the need to chime in, lest the two capable men thought him a mute.

"Let's hope the dragon carrying your brother can land as smoothly as ours did, despite the scorpions that will be aimed at the beast as soon as it becomes visible.".’’

He was well aware of his own spitefulness, but the last thing they needed in the dreary steps of these never-ending formalities was the threat of dragons being turned into pincushions.

Jason let out a sheepish chuckle, giving up when he saw the stone hard face of his nephew, ‘’I apologise, but you must understand the risks I had to take, to be prepared for all eventualities.’’

Jacaerys ignored this, ‘’Let us proceed.’’

‘’And the second term, if I’m correct,’’ Jason continued, ‘’ involves bending the knee to Queen Rhaenyra at her coronation?’’

He would rather drown himself in the narrow sea than be subjected to this any longer. If he heard the term ‘bend the knee’ one more time he might just start doing it involuntarily.

As things stood, he could almost hear the same words making an appearance in his dreams, turning his fantasies of discovering the brothels in Essos into utter nightmares.

Jace nodded, ‘’Correct.’’

Well, at least his nephew was succinct, too bad his face always looked like he’s about to deliver a lecture on the virtues of royal etiquette.

He had a horrible feeling he wasn’t wrong about that suspicion.

‘’When will the coronation take place?’’, Jason inquired.

‘’It is yet to be decided,’’ Jacaerys answered, ‘’You will receive a formal invite when it occurs.’’

‘’I see.’’ Jason looked at the parchment once again, ‘’But I must say, bending the knee twice sounds rather... demanding.’’

It was almost endearing, in a way—how the cunt managed to act like this was some monumental task when it was really just a matter of showing a bit of respect. ‘Bend the knee twice’, he said, as if it’s the equivalent of walking on a tightrope rather than a simple formality.

‘’Don’t worry, Lord Jason.’’ He assured with a smirk, ‘’It’s just a bit of ceremonial footwork. Nothing you can’t handle.’’ He leaned forward in his seat, ‘’And if you stumble, just remember: there are no penalties for falling flat on your face.’’

There, there. He’s used his wit to ease his discomfort. Let’s see if that helps. Gods help him if the lion cunt actually stumbled and caused a scene. He would never hear the end of it, not to mention the fact that he wouldn’t be able to conceal his laugh.

The last thing he needed was the judging look of nobles as they witnessed their former deposed king crackling like a hen.

‘’Yes well,’’ Jason sighed, ‘’Ill do my best to ensure it goes smoothly.’’

Gods this was duller than watching paint dry.

‘’Do you have any further queries?’’, Jace inquired.

He was tempted to give his nephew the most glaring side eye he could muster, but he resisted because he was smart.

Seriously?

He was half tempted to ask if he could be excused to go drink himself into oblivion. But seeing how that wasn’t an option currently, he hoped the questions could be kept to a minimum and wrap this up before he started offering unsolicited advice.

‘’Just one, has your mother sent a raven in her writing yet?’’, Jason inquired.

Jacaerys, the ever prepared, took out the small scroll they had received in a matter of few hours after they sent the first raven and placed it across the table, ‘’Here.’’

Jason read through the contents and gave a satisfied nod, ‘’Perfect.’’

‘’Anything else we might assist you with?’’, Jacaerys pressed, patient as ever.

With the tone his nephew used, Aegon wondered if Jace would tuck the man into bed if it made sure to secure his dear half sister’s claim to the throne.

‘’No, now that everything is in order, let us not delay.’’

He let out a silent sigh of relief as the two parties signed both copies of the parchment without any further complications.

Finally, He was about to start counting the flies in the camp just to keep himself entertained. Proceeding sounded good. Anything to get out of this endless loop of ‘bend the knee’ and ‘be respectful.

Jason bowed this time as he stood up, like he finally remembered the right manners which princes were to be afforded before leaving the tent with a satisfied smile, ‘’My princes.’’

The Lord of Casterly rock left, leaving them alone in the dreary red tent once again.

He tapped the table with the finger of the hand he had set on the table, the rhythmic tapping filling the silence which stretched because none of them spoke.

A moment passed.

Another.

Then another.

‘’Stop.’’, he said firmly, turning his head to look at Jacaerys, who nearly jolted out of his seat at his sudden movement.

‘’Stop what?’’, the dweeb asked, like he was unaware of his own actions.

‘’You’re staring at me, it annoying.’’, he clarified.

It was almost amusing, watching his nephew getting flustered like he was a maiden who was about to be undressed for their wedding ceremony.

‘’I’m not staring, I am....’’ he thought it over, visibly squirming in his seat, ‘’looking respectfully.’’

He snorted before he could help it.

He almost wanted to ‘respectfully’ gouge both of Jace’s eyes out, see how he liked it, but then again, taking a page from his other nephew’s book hardly seemed like a good idea.

The gods knew they didn’t need another Aemond in the house, especially after he lost his eye. Now the twat had this way of making everyone feel like they were under constant surveillance—except it’s not even subtle, it’s more like he had a permanent scowl for every occasion.

He felt a shudder go through him as he recalled that unblinking gaze.

Gods he needed wine.

**

As twilight draped its velvet cloak over the Lannister camp, Aegon perched on a rocky rise, his keen eyes trained on the incoming spectacle, watching the choice of beast his half sister had chosen to deliver their hostage.

The dragon Seasmoke, a silvery marvel of scale and wing, descended with all the grace of a thunderstorm. To Aegon, who was spoiled by Sunfyre’s radiant splendor, Seasmoke was a mere blip on the majestic dragon radar.

It was clear that there was no comparison between his baby and Seasmoke, it was like a one-sided match between fine wine and watered down ale.

The dragon landed with a deafening thud, its massive claws gripping the ground like a drunken bear. Addam Velaryon, calm as a morning breeze, guided the dragon to a stop. But it was Ser Tyland Lannister’s dismount that drew the full attention of the soldiers and nobles alike.

Or more precisely, the shrill scream the Lannister twin let out, sounding like he was a distressed damsel in need of rescuing, which to some extent he was.

Tyland fell to the ground from the saddle, clutching both his stomach and mouth like he was about to empty the contents of his stomach, which unfortunately didn’t happen.

A shame.

He couldn’t stop his laugh, as expected, the best he could manage was to turn his head to the side and cover his mouth, hoping the people didn’t witness the sight in lieu of all the chaos.

He watched as the twins reunited, embracing like they hadn’t seen each other in years, the only difference between them marked by the haggard state of Tyland Lannister’s clothes.

They didn’t look too bad, and no, he wasn’t biased because he favoured similar garments for his usual escapades.

As agreed upon in the treaty, Jason bent the knee without any tumbles, though he still wanted to laugh, his imagination running rampant.

The vows themselves were boring, but Jacaerys stood with his back straight, chin jutted up like he was trying to show off the sharpness of it, or like he was posing for a portrait.

After it was done with, his nephew made his way over to him with a self-satisfied smile like he had conquered Dorne.

‘’Well, that went well.’’, Jacaerys said, smile etched on his face.

A smile he didn’t return.

‘’Can we go home now?’’, he asked while trying to resist the urge to tap his foot.

He could almost hear the wine calling to him from the capital.

His nephew’s smile faltered for a split second before he nodded.

‘’Yes, we can.’’

He took a deep breath, ‘’Perfect.’’

He walked around and of course the gods hated him at this moment, because he felt a hand on his arm stop his march before he even started it.

''Aegon, wait.''

‘’What, nephew?’’, he turned back, not bothering to hide the exasperation in his voice this time.

‘’I.....’’ Jace swallowed for some reason, ‘’I just wanted to express how delightful this experience has been for me.’’

He resisted the urge to tell the dweeb how un-delightful it was for him, he had never been sober this long since the age of three and ten, it wasn’t a record he wanted to set.

His nephew’s hand was still on his arm, and he tried not to show how aware he was of it, though he didn’t know why.

‘’Yes well.....’’ he stepped back, already missing the warmth of that hand ‘’all’s well that ends well.’’

He saw Jace’s hand flex as he stepped closer, diminishing the distance between them, looking at him a bit too intently with that unblinking gaze of his.

He held his ground of course, moving felt like and admission of defeat, like he was intimidated by him.

Which he wasn’t.

‘’Are you tired?’’ Jace asked, voice much lower than before, ‘’It is a short flight, but we can rest a bit before we leave.’’

‘’I wish to go home.’’, he said firmly, acutely aware he wasn’t blinking either.

‘’Very well,’’ his nephew’s eyes fell on his lips, or maybe he was mistaken, ‘’have a safe flight.’’

Jacaerys quickly ducked down and placed a short and chaste peck on his cheek.

Proceeding to them scurry away from him like he was a child who had been caught stealing and would be reprimanded if he stayed any longer.

He barely registered what happened next until a few moments later, but when he did, he felt his eyes widen.

‘’You!’’, he shouted, his witty remarks being in short supply the moment he needed them the most.

Jacaerys turned around at his shocked sound, teeth on display as he walked backwards and looked at him with the same smile he once displayed whenever he managed to best him the training yard.

‘’Apologies, my dearest betrothed!’’ he said without a hint of guilt, ‘’I couldn’t resist!’’

He wanted to wipe that cheeky grin off his face, but his limbs remained heavy, and for a moment, it felt like all the sounds of the dragons and men had been drowned out, leaving behind a strange numbness that he didn’t know the cause of.

As he watched his nephew’s retreating figure, his fingers made their way to his cheek of their own accord, chasing the phantom touch of those lips and how soft they had felt.

It wasn’t the kiss that had thrown him off balance, it was the realisation that he came to after all these days of confusion.

Jace wanted him.

He knew the look of desire very well by now, had witnessed it countless times in the eyes of the alphas he allowed to fuck him on the dirty mattresses of the brothels, and this was just that.

But he knew very well that it wasn’t anything of substance like love, how could it be?

He wasn’t built for such a thing, he knew it, everyone knew, and therefore Jacaerys did as well. He didn’t deserve love, had nothing to achieve it, be worthy of it.

Heck, his own mother didn’t like him beyond the value he served as a pawn in her game.

All his nephew wanted was what every other alpha desired of him, an easy fuck within the sheets that could be forgotten about in the next morning, and once Jacaerys got what he wanted, this would end.

He felt ashamed to no have realised it sooner, felt stupid for not putting together the fact that the betrothal had only lasted as long as it did because his nephew wanted to have a practice run with him before he moved on to a worthy partner, one who could be by his side, one who would be a capable queen.

It wasn’t surprising to him either, he was a whore, he knew that very well, the Seven Kingdoms knew it, and perhaps his nephew thought him easy, which he maybe was.

It shouldn’t bother him by any means, but it was clear that all of it stung, a slight ache in his chest that he hoped wouldn’t persist, hoped he could ignore by getting drunk as soon as he got home.

But if a meaningless fuck is all his nephew wanted, he would oblige willingly if it meant he could be free of this blasted betrothal.

He would get over it.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra stood over the table of her council chambers after yet another meeting which was much of the same, with Daemon taking every chance he could to pick a fight withe Rhaenys, with her dear cousin dealing with the animosity with grace and calm befitting her station.

All by her lonesome, She reviewed the reports detailing the status of the crucial task she had entrusted to Daemon: the restoration of the dragonpit following the events of Aegon’s coronation.

She knew she had to keep her husband occupied in one form or another, there was only so much she could take of him glaring at the Lady Hand like she had stolen his favourite candy.

She heard the clanking of armour and several footsteps from the hallway, signalling the imminent arrival of visitors, one she had been expecting this entire morning as she went through the motions.

From her periphery, She caught a hint of the white the queensguard wore along with Targaryen black and red, and she did not need to look up to see who it was.

And nor did she need Ser Lorent to announce his arrival, though her loyal knight did so anyways.

‘’Prince Jacaerys your grace.’’

Ser Lorent bowed and made his way out, leaving the two of them alone and she stubbornly kept her head down into the parchments, refusing to look up.

It was only when her son approached her side with silent steps that she raised her head, granting her rogue of a son a single glance with a stoic expression before ducking it down again, not bothering to use words to acknowledge his presence.

‘’What are those?’’, Jacaerys asked.

She answered without looking up once again, keeping her voice monotone, ‘’Reports on the progress my coronation.’’

She saw Jacaerys nod from her periphery.

‘’I shall leave you to it, your grace.’’

Her son made his way to leave and she only spoke up only when he covered created the distance of a few feet between them, stopping him in his tracks.

‘’How was the mood at Casterly Rock?’’, she inquired dryly.

Although Jacaerys’ back was turned to her, she didn’t need to look at his face to become aware of the self-satisfied smile which graced his expression, likely thinking he had done nothing wrong.

‘’Did his Lordship quibble?’’, she pressed on.

Jacaerys turned and approached her once again, pulling a scroll from his cloak with his lips curled up at an attempt to conceal the grin which wanted out while failing spectacularly.

The scroll was bound with a golden ribbon that matched the exact shade of the Lannister lion, but she made no move to touch it.

‘’Lord Jason Lannister is in the process of dissolving his host, has bent the knee and agreed to the terms of the treaty I forged.’’ He informed, placing the scroll on the table with the rest of her missives, ‘’This copy is for our archives, another rests in Lord Jason’s possession.’’

She nodded.

‘’I’m proud of you Jace,’’ she said evenly, ‘’you have done my cause a great service.’’

She looked back at the parchment, knowing full well that she had read the same line five times and had yet to comprehend its meaning properly.

Jacaerys shuffled on his feet, ‘’Then why do you look angry?’’

She knew her son well, and he understood her in return—enough to sense when she was angry, but apparently not enough to grasp the reason behind it.

Her chest rose and fell as she took a deep breath to expel the ire she felt before her eyes met with her son’s again.

‘’Angry?’’ she repeated firmly, ‘’Angry doesn’t even begin to describe the extent of my fury.’’

Naturally, her son had already concocted an excuse, as if he anticipated this situation arising sooner rather than later.

‘’I was only trying to help,’’ he tried to reason, ‘’be of service to my queen.’’

‘’You are also my son and I did not give you leave to go.’’, she immediately parried.

Jacaerys’ face hardened.

‘’You do not give me leave to go to anything,’’ he complained like an insolent child, ‘’if I hadn’t gone, we might have lost the Lannister’s favour.’’

‘’Did you not think for one second what your actions would do to me?’’, she grit out, resisting the urge to slap some sense into him.

It was beneath her to clout her own son beneath the ear, no matter how much he deserved it.

‘’Like I said, I was only serving my quee-‘’

‘’I speak to you as your mother!’’

She took deep, steady breaths once more, gently caressing her belly as the echo of her shout reverberated off the red bricks, ringing in both their ears as they waited for the noise to fade.

‘’Mother.....’’ Jacaerys started softly this time, likely noticing her state, ‘’I-‘’

‘’You are brave, yes.’’ She spoke with some measure of calmness, ‘’But there is a difference between being brave and foolish. You are the blood of the dragon, you have responsibilities, you are no expendable pawn to be sacrificed on a whim.’’

She watched as her son’s throat bobbed with a swallow, his expression hardening as he fixed his gaze on the floor, his jaw tightening in what appeared to be anger—though she didn’t understand the cause.

‘’And what of Aegon?’’, he said evenly, though the tremor in his voice was clearly audible to her.

She knew when her son was off balance, but apparently not enough to know the reason behind it.

Her brows furrows in confusion, ’’What about him?’’

‘’When you sent him, an omega,’’ Jacaerys started with fire behind his eyes, ‘’my betrothed, into an army encampment full of alphas, did it not cross your mind that he could he taken, slain, or worse.......’’

Her son bit his lip and looked away, shaking his head as he trailed off and didn’t bother to word the string of his thoughts

And nor did she need him to.

The implication of all the ways an omega could be taken advantage to wasn’t one that her son wanted to put into words.

‘’I took precautions, Jacaerys.’’ She informed, ‘’I sent Nettles and Addam to trail after him. Do you think me so foolish that I would endanger the life of mine own kin?’’

‘’Your precautions weren’t enough.’’, he dismissed immediately.

She scoffed and gave a mirthless smile, ‘’You conclude that with such certainty.’’

‘’I am not fool, mother!’’ he snapped, ‘’Did you truly believe I would remain passive while the life of the one I am bound to marry hung in the balance?’’

She sighed, ‘’Your sense of duty is admirable, bu-‘’

‘’Duty?’’, her son repeated, looking at her like she was speaking another language entirely.

Her brows furrowed in puzzlement at his confusion.

‘’Duty to your betrothed, of course.’’, she clarified.

And all of a sudden, it seemed like her son couldn’t meet her eyes, looking at everywhere but her, messing his cloak awkwardly like he was struggling with something.

‘’Its not just duty.....’’ he confessed uneasily, ‘’its more.’’

Her confusion only grew tenfold at his behaviour.

‘’More?’’

When her son looked back at her once again, the realisation dawned on her in a split second once she saw what lay beneath his brown eyes, the look of affection that she knew so well, one she had only donned for herself when she looked at those she desired.

For Harwin, Daemon and Alicent.

The single word he spoke only served to confirm her suspicions.

He nodded, ‘’More.’’

She knew her son had a certain fondness for Aegon, but she never anticipated it would be this strong.

The conclusion came quickly, this wasn’t merely simple fondness, and given what Jace had done, there was only one word for it.

Obsession.

“So when you came to me seeking Aegon’s hand…” she began cautiously, closing the distance between them, “it wasn’t merely for the sake of uniting our house?”

She had been under the impression that this union was merely a political manoeuvre to benefit her cause and secure her path to succession. That was how Jacaerys had framed it when he presented his suggestion.

But looking the face of her son, she knew that wasn’t it, not entirely at least.

Her heart ached as she saw his eyes glaze over, a slight pooling of tears beginning to form in his eyes which reddened slightly.

‘’I was damned the moment the I saw him in that throne room.’’, he confessed.

A confession which was clearly hard for him to make.

‘’And if I had refused?’’, she inquired in a whisper.

Jace smiled through his glazed expression, ‘’I can be very persuasive.’’

Persuasive didn’t even begin to describe it, her son would have begged on his hands and knees if that’s what it took.

She saw the fire in him at that moment, saw the look of a possessive dragon who had found his treasure and was ready to fight and hoard by any means necessary.

As soon as he was within reach, her arms extended, one hand resting on his shoulder while the other wove itself into the curls he had grown out since leaving King’s Landing, running her fingers through them before settling it on the nape of his neck, pulling him closer.

“Gods…” she whispered as their foreheads touched. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Aegon was, by all accounts, a contestant your throne at the time…” he replied in a quiet voice, a tremor present in his ovctaves “What sot of an heir dishonors his queen by falling for the enemy?”

The reason for his unspoken feelings became evident; she only wished he hadn’t had to carry that burden alone for so long, likely torn between loyalty to his family and the pull of his heart.

How had she been so fortunate to be blessed with such selfless children?

‘’Sweet boy......’’ she kissed his cheek thrice and leaned their foreheads back together, ‘’my valiant heir.’’

She closed her eyes and continued to stroke his arm in order to comfort him, wanting him to know he hadn’t done anything wrong as they soaked up the realisations and the unburdening of his feelings.

‘’Although......’’ Jacaerys began, a slight tease in his voice this time, ‘’it did not occur to me that my own mother was in love with the enemy as well.’’

The mood lightened immediately as the two of them chuckled.

‘’I suppose we do have that similarity,’’ she hummed and thought it over, ‘’though they are no longer our enemies, but our future spouses.’’

She saw the relief flood over Jace’s face as he smiled through his glazed eyes, grateful that they would no longer have to fight against the people they loved, but could instead build a future with them.

‘’Our family.’’ He spoke wetly, voice thick with emotion.

She nodded in confirmation and took both of Jace’s hand in her own, holding them in a near painful grip.

‘’Swear to me that you won’t put yourself in danger again,’’ she demanded, ‘’here and now.’’

Her soon shook his head, ‘’that won’t be necessa-‘’

‘’Swear it to your mother.’’, she insisted.

Jacaerys gave a small chuckle before giving in.

‘’I swear it.’’

She let out a sigh of relief and released him, turning her attention to the treaty her son had written. She picked it up and carefully untied the golden ribbon that held it together.

‘’I must confess,’’ she spoke with approval and pride, ‘’forging copies of the treaty was a masterstroke of cunning."

Jacaerys held up his hands in dismissal.

"I cannot lay claim to that cleverness,’’ he denied with a hint of pride,‘’it was Aegon who proposed it."

She laughed, finding it hard to believe while fully aware her son would never lie to her.

Chapter Text

Aegon sat on a sofa of one of his chambers, his legs propped up on the table as he indolently nursed his goblet of wine while staring into the hearth.

His eyes were unfocused in light of the recent revelations he had regarding his nephew.

Or more precisely, his intentions.

The breeze that blew in from the balcony was enough to send an involuntary shudder through him, definitely not what he had been expecting.

Perhaps the summer was ending.

When he looked out the opening, he spotted the full moon in the sky, rippling a sense of melancholy through him, aching and painful, made him feel empty.

How didn’t like it one bit, it was a kind of silence he usually drowned out in that place which provided the courtesy of mediocre music and dancing, the place which was usually marred with sex and pheromones that he liked to drown himself him.

He was about to do just what when the door to his chambers flew open unceremoniously, paving the way for a woman whose steps were as determined as they were unstoppable.

The hint of green he caught from his periphery was more than enough for him to discern who it was despite his dulled senses; therefore, he didn’t bother to look up to acknowledge her presence.

It was such a shame really, all the carefully curated numbness he had created for himself was disappearing at an astounding rate, and he didn’t know whether to be surprised or impressed of the effect his mother had on him.

His dread only grew when she stopped by his side to regard him, though a part of him hoped she wouldn’t, even though he knew full well the woman would have no reason to visit his chambers otherwise.

It was a foolish thought, far too irrational and too good to be true, he blamed its inception on the booze.

‘’Aegon, are.....’’ she started, sounding unsure for some reason, ‘’are you all right?’’

He could sense the concern in her voice, it was the same display of motherhood she opted for each time he returned home from Fleabottom after he had his fill.

He took a long and healthy gulp of his wine before answering her.

He needed the courage.

‘’As you can see, I am in one piece.’’, he declared casually, gesturing towards himself as if to show proof.

‘’You ventured to Casterly Rock without telling me,’’ she stated the obvious fact, ‘’do you have any idea how worried I was?’’

The concern she was always claimed to be plagued by only served to twist his insides, because he knew what came next whenever she started a conversation that way.

And knew how it would ultimately end, had gone through the motions enough times to know there will be some sort of righteous exclamation on her, an act of violence or two which would be inflicted on him, followed by him escaping the Red Keep for comfort in some whore’s arms or simply weeping in his sorrows.

‘’T’was the queen’s command,’’ he hiccupped before he could help it, ‘’I couldn’t very well refuse.’’

‘’It was reckless and foolish.’’, she parried immediately.

He bottomed out his goblet with one swift motion, cursing the fact that it wasn’t hitting him at all like it should. He credited it to his mother, and though her parenting was questionable at times, her unwelcome services of restoring his sobriety weren’t.

‘’If it offers you any solace, my resourceful nephew—always the strong and dependable one alpha,’’ he drawled, ‘’got there ahead of me to smooth things out.’’

He took his feet off the table and leaned forward, reaching for the pitcher of wine which was blurred at first but became clear just as quickly, allowing him a good view and depth perception from where he could pour himself another goblet.

It was his third- maybe his fifth-he didn’t care to count.

‘’Yes, I heard.’’ She said as he leaned back on the cushion, ‘’Did.....were you safe.....did anyone....’’

Now that caught his attention, and not in a good way.

He took another sip and turned his head up and sideways to finally look at her face, unsurprised at the expression she wore, like she was one step away from falling off the edge of the cliff which usually resulted in him getting hurt in everyway he could.

What her words implied, of course, only egged him on to push her, spitefulness coursing through his veins like a poison, the wine he had drank thus far serving as liquid courage.

‘’Oh, come now mother,’’ he let out a mirthless chuckle, tilting his head indolently, ‘’tis not as if a maidenhead can be taken twice,’’ he declared bluntly, ‘’the Seven Kingdoms know of my promiscuous ways, I’m sure you do too,’’ he thought it over, then smirked, ‘’or do the walls of the Sept make you deaf as well as mute?’’

It worked, of course it did.

‘’This is no joking matter!’’ she exclaimed, her nostrils flaring, ‘’Do you think of the shame you bring on me?!’’ she inquired with those doe eyes of her, ‘’On our family?! And don’t think I don’t know of your nightly escapades to those......’’ her face twisted like she had smelled something foul, ‘’vile places.’’

He snorted and took another large gulp, finding it amusing how easy it was to scandalise her even though they had done this dance so many times before.

‘’It’s called a brothel mother,’’ he amended dryly, ‘’Just saying the word won’t soil your.......’’ he tried his best to find the right word over the haze, ‘’virtuous sensibilities.’’

She closed the distance from where she stood to where he sat in record time, and though he first though she was headed for him, she proved him wrong when he didn’t feel pain anywhere, or maybe the wine had worked better than he hoped and he was entirely numb to her pathetic yet powerful strikes.

By the time he came to his senses, the goblet in his hands was gone, and he distantly heard the sound of shattered glass before he realised what happened.

‘’You’re drunk out of your mind,’’ she stated the obvious again, ‘’I thought we were past this, when are you going to give up this wretched vice?’’

He looked at the spilled wine and shards on the floor with a frown, the beverage his favourite too, the best from The Reach.

Such a waste.

‘’I don’t know....’’ he murmured, ‘’maybe when the sun rises in the west and sets in the east.’’

He turned his head to look at her, soaking up her disappointed look that she always wore for him, and never for Aemond or Helaena, the look that told him he was no better than the dirt beneath her feet.

‘’You are betrothed to the alpha who is in line to inherit the strongest seat in the realm,’’ she said calmly, yet he could feel the anger, ‘’you should be grateful.’’

He let out an incredulous exhale, wondering what the fuck she was on about.

‘’Grateful?’’, he asked with disbelief, trying to make sense of her behaviour, if she had finally lost her mind.

‘’Grateful that you still have your head,’’ she supplied, ‘’that instead of beheading you at the first opportunity, Rhaenyra has seen fit to generously compensate you for your loss of station.’’

She rubbed her face, her chest heaving as she took a deep breath, proceeding to then choose two imaginary points on the bricked floor from where she paced back and forth, making him dizzy, making him feel like he would throw up.

‘’Do you really believe there aren’t eligible omegas throughout the Seven Kingdoms?’’ she inquired, though it was clear she didn’t need an answer, ‘’You may be a prince, but there are plenty of reasons to replace you, especially when you have nothing to offer, and if someone were to vie to Jacaerys’ attention.......’’

She blessedly stopped and placed a hand on her chest, not bothering to complete her thought, shaking her head like it was a horrible thought that she didn’t even want to entertain, like it was the end of the world.

She looked around the chambers, pausing momentarily at the place where the shattered glass was, then looked at him again, clasping her hands before her and looking at him with steely eyes.

‘’Henceforth, you will comport yourself with dignity and grace,’’ she commanded, ‘’as is befitting for an omega of your standing.’’

He looked at her intently, and though a part of him thought this game would be over when they lost King’s Landing, it clearly wasn’t. His mother was still determined to play this, to see what she could get out of it.

‘’That’s all that matters to you, isn’t it?’’, he asked in a low voice.

She had the gall to look confused, her expression full of judgement and barely concealed fury.

‘’What?’’

He stood up and closed the distance between them, stopping where he was within her reach, her expression once again being imprinted into his head, an image that would never leave because he saw it over and over again throughout all these years.

The image of a disappointed mother.

‘’That’s all I am to you, isn’t it?’’ he inquired, ‘’Merely a pawn on the board to move about as you wish, A tool for you to wield in your pursuit of power.’’ He chuckled without amusement, ‘’If I can’t be king, then I’m merely a broodmare to be used for your schemes.’’

Her jaw tightened, ‘’Aegon.’’

‘’Well, it doesn’t matter anyone,’’ he continued, ‘’my sister is queen, and this betrothal......’’

He didn’t bother to complete his thoughts, and though his mother was daft at the moment, she would realise sooner than late that this whole arrangement was temporary, that the best she could get out of him would be to marry him to some fat old lord who already had a few heirs of his own in order to get rid of her whore of an omega son.

‘’you are my son,’’ she said firmly, ‘’you carry the Targaryen name and-‘’

‘“I carry your expectations!” he corrected, feeling his eyes burn, “And I’m tired of it. Tired of trying to live up to a standard I never asked for.’’

He walked even closer until they were inches apart, and though his sight blurred due to the tears which kept building up in his eyes, he still managed to convey his determination, of how serious he was regarding what his next step would be.

‘’I will make certain that I never become queen,’’ he whispered in their close proximity ‘’even if it’s the very last thing I do.’’

The blow that came next was expected, and yet it hurt all the same. The sting on his cheek and the sound which reverberated through his chambers was nothing new, and so was the gash which formed in his heart.

He placed a hand where he had been hit, feeling the warmth of his no doubt red skin, knowing full well this was the only sort of contact he would ever get from her.

Unlike Rhaenyra, she would never hold his hand, or kiss his cheek, or touch him with any semblance of love. The kiss she had bestowed on his forehead at his coronation was treasured to him, though he was aware it was all for show.

He looked up at her again, and she looked right back, her eyes dead as she regarded him.

‘’You’re a disgrace.....’’ she whispered this time, ‘’and you are no son of mine.’’

She walked outside and it was only when her steps disappeared that his body allowed the tension to slacken, allowed the tears to fall down his face as he slumped down on the sofa with tremors that coursed throughout him each time he sniffled.

Wondering why the fuck he was so fragile, wondering why the fuck her approval meant so much to him in the first place even though it shouldn’t.

Even though he knew he would never be good enough.

Chapter Text

Lucerys sat on the ground at the side of the training yard, making sure he had the best view of his uncle as he beat yet another knight into the ground without much effort, his silver tresses gliding smoothly just like his body to accommodate his twists and turns as he handled the sword with expertise.

He felt equal parts awe and pity for the whole affair, fully aware that he had yet to achieve such a level with the sword, and that he would rather be anyplace than have to face Aemond as his opponent.

His uncle took heaving breaths and looked at him with a pointed eye once another bout of parries and clashes ended.

‘‘Are you just going to sit there and watch me like a potted plant?’‘

‘‘Well,’‘ he smirked, ‘‘I can hardly join you with a skewered shoulder, can I?’‘

Aemond hummed, his eye flicking once over his clothed shoulder, as if he could assess the extent of his injury, ‘‘What did the maester say?’‘

‘‘He assures me that I will heal, though a scar will remain.’‘ His lips curled, ‘‘Isn't that remarkable? My very first battle scar.’‘

The idea of being a scarred omega would have once plunged him into despair, but now that his mother had ascended to the throne, he felt a glimmer of hope.

He understood that with a woman now being the protector of the realm, societal norms were poised for transformation, becoming increasingly flexible. Hopefully, in due time, a person’s primary or secondary gender would no longer serve as a barrier to their potential.

‘‘What you did was foolish and reckless.’‘, Aemond said dryly, spinning his sword again.

And of course, there was no hint of worry in his uncle’s voice.

After all, why would there be?

He set aside the disappointment that fact invoked, choosing instead to reflect on his many blessings.

As the second son and an omega with an inheritance few could ever imagine, he recognized that he would have to compromise somewhere, and it just so happened that his compromise would take place in his own marriage.

He would be a Lord with a cold marriage, but a lord nonetheless.

It wouldn’t be anything like his mother and Daemon, the two of them wouldn’t burn for each other, but perhaps when duty was done and it was all over with, he would discover solace in the salt and sea that lay under his dominion.

He waved a dismissive hand, ‘‘Yes, yes, you’ve already said that.’‘

His uncle opened his mouth to say something, but was subsequently interrupted by the clanking of armour and words which were directed at him.

“Prince Aemond,’‘ Ser Lorent addressed, ‘‘the Queen requests your presence at the council.”

The two of them exchanged a glance before Aemond turned to the rack of weapons and placed his sword back in its place, his lone violet not sparing him a single glance as he started his march out the yard and into the hallway.

Without even thinking about it, he stood up and fell into step with his uncle.

‘‘What are you doing, taoba?’‘, Aemond asked, a hint of annoyance in his tone.

‘‘What do you think?’‘ he continued to keep up with Aemond’s long strides, ‘‘I’m joining you, and who knows—I may need to shield you from the Queen’s ire. It would be my second time rescuing you.”

He veiled it as a jest, but there was a stark possibility that his mother would likely punish Aemond for what happened to him.

Granted, if she wanted retribution, she would have had it by now, Daemon would have rushed to it, and she likely wouldn’t have stopped him.

But he still worried regardless.

Aemond smirked, his eye still looking ahead, “Ever the impudent one, My Lord Strong.”

**

When they walked into the council room, they found it empty save for the two women.

His mother, who occupied the head seat of the table, and Rhaenys, who was seated beside her, her golden pin shining in the sunlight.

He was about to speak when Aemond beat him to it.

“Your Grace,” he said politely, bowing his head in a gesture that could be seen as a nod., then flicking his eye over to Rhaenys, ‘‘Lady Hand.’‘

The transformation of his uncle—from someone who seemed to harbor resentment for his family, if that toast was any indication—to a figure of such grace and respect was nothing short of astounding. Yet, he managed to mask his astonishment and surprise.

‘‘Mother,’‘ he greeted them both with a smile, ‘‘Grandmother.’‘

He couldn’t shake the knot in his throat, apprehensive about the meeting. He wondered if his mother had been harboring her anger over his injury, ready to unleash it like a dragon unleashes its fire.

His only solace was the absence of the familiar signs of displeasure that typically marked her expression when she was cross with someone.

“Lucerys,” she began in a relaxed tone, “I didn’t summon you.”

“Well,’‘ he gave a quick glance to Aemond, ‘‘we happened to be in each other’s company.”

“It’s fortunate that you came, nonetheless,” Rhaenys interjected, looking at both of them. “This matter concerns you both.”

His jaw tightened and he clasped his hands behind his back, ready to come to his uncle’s defence, to argue that the injury he had suffered was his own fault, that he wouldn’t have survived had the alpha standing beside him had not rescued him.

‘‘Let’s get to it then,’‘ his mother started, looking pointed at Aemond, ‘‘brother, have you made your final decision regarding the betrothal?”

The tension slackened out of his body in an instance, all the arguments he had been preparing becoming waste like ash in a matter of seconds.

He remembered his uncle’s words when he had woken up.

‘‘Your mother has given me free reign to dismiss our betrothal.’‘

“I accept the betrothal to Lucerys.” Aemond said, and turned his head to face him, offering a slight smirk, “I suppose I can tolerate your company.”

It was delivered as a joke, but couldn’t help the shiver that ran down his spine.

The shiver caused by the realization that, despite the jest, it was a truth: his uncle would tolerate him in their marriage but would likely spend majority of his time with the paramour of his choosing.

He pushed aside the ache and hurt that his already doomed marriage—despite not having even begun—brought him, forcing a smile as best he could.

Best to act unbothered.

‘‘I suppose I could say the same.’‘, he parried.

“There is one issue, Aemond.’’, His mother said, ‘‘You are already betrothed to Florian Baratheon.”

The confusion left his mind blank for a moment before he managed to gather his wits again.

‘‘Betrothed to whom now?’‘

“Florian Baratheon,’‘ Rhaenys repeated, ‘‘Aemond offered his hand in marriage to secure Lord Borros’ support for Aegon’s claim.”

A fire ignited in his chest, an intensity that he couldn’t quite understand. It was a raw, unsettling sensation, a mix of ugliness and resentment spreading through him like an insidious vine. He felt as if he were carrying an immense weight, one that threatened to crush him under its relentless pressure.

“You did what?” he intended to ask in a conciliatory tone, but his voice emerged far more accusatory than he had meant.

It was odd, he thought, that his eyes had forgotten to blink and his lungs had ceased to draw in air. It felt as if his entire body had stopped functioning, fixated solely on the answer his uncle would provide.

Aemond however, looked as unbothered as ever when he turned his head to face him.

“A marriage pact, nephew.’’ He raised his brows, ‘‘Are you not familiar with them?”

‘’I am.’’, he grit out.

Aemond looked forward towards the women again, ‘’Could’ve fooled me.’’

‘’I know what a marriage pact is!’’, he defended lamely.

“Nevertheless, it is a situation we must rectify.’’ His mother interjected, voice calm as ever as she addressed Aemond, ‘’You will go to Storm’s End and speak with Borros Baratheon. Do what you must to dissolve the betrothal.”

A flicker of hope appeared on Aemond’s face, “Are you granting me permission to ride Vhagar?”

The two women shared a long glance with each other, proceeding to then nod as if the silent conversation they had managed to have with just their eyes seemingly concluded.

‘’I suppose I am,’’ his mother conceded, ‘’the swifter we take care of this matter the better.’’ She took a step closer her eyes steeled, ‘’but remember, brother, I am putting my trust in you, but it is up to you what you do with it, either you break it, or you cherish it and make it stronger.’’

Aemond didn’t break eye contact for a single moment, then hummed, ‘’I shall depart at first light.’’

As expected once again, his uncle ignored his entire existence and strode out with purposeful and smooth strides as if her were swimming on land.

His fists only tightened behind his back as the realisation sunk into his bones now.

Aemond was betrothed.

Betrothed to someone that wasn’t him.

And that fact really shouldn’t bother him as much as it apparently did.

But worst of all, there was the unsettling possibility that Aemond might not succeed. Perhaps he didn’t even want to.

Maybe his uncle changed his mind and traded being consort of Driftmark to being Consort to the next Lord of Storm’s End, assuming he agreed to bind himself to Borros’ heir.

That seemed likely, considering Aemond wasn’t the type to settle for anything less. Like Daemon, he was a second son, driven by an insatiable ambition that showed no signs of waning.

While his mother’s love had quenched Daemon’s thirst for power, Aemond was a different story altogether.

His mother sighed at whatever she saw reflected in his expression. Rising slowly from her seat, the weight of the child she carried made her movements deliberate. She caressed her belly gently as she made her way toward him.

‘’I know what you’re thinking, sweet boy,’’ she said gently, ‘’and I would advise against it.’’

‘’I don’t understand.’’, he feigned ignorance.

His mother sighed and gave a knowing smile that clearly showed he couldn’t hide anything from her even if he wished to.

‘’You wish to follow him,’’ she stated, reaching out and running her fingers through his hair, ‘’do you not?’’

He did, without a doubt. He wanted nothing more than to see this betrothal broken and finalized with the next breath he took.

He knew he was being stubborn in his denial, but alas, he was too stubborn to even admit he was being stubborn.

‘’Of course not.’’

He walked backwards and begrudgingly distanced himself from the comfort of her touch and sweet scent, walking down the hallway and feeling like something was roaring inside him, telling him to take action, to do something, anything.

What the fuck was wrong with him?

Chapter Text

Lucerys paced restlessly across the stone floor of his chambers, his mind a storm of anxiety as he replayed the events of the day.

Each thought seemed to deepen his unease, as he grappled with the implications for his future, his status, and the fragile efforts—admittedly scant—that he had made to mend the strained relationship with Aemond.

His fingers twisted nervously in that familiar, unconscious motion, as his thoughts drifted to his betrothed.

What was Aemond doing now?

Had his uncle even begun to address the growing obstacle standing between them, the one threatening to unravel the fragile bond they had yet to truly form?

Did he even care enough to-

"You look as though you've bitten into a sour lemon.’’ He heard Jace’s voice say, startling him out of his trance.

He turned to see his elder brother already making his way inside the threshold of his chambers, wondering how he managed to not hear the sound of his oncoming footsteps or notice his presence before he spoke up.

‘’I don’t know what you speak of.’’, he replied with feigned nonchalance, trying to mask the turmoil swirling within him.

He knew there was something off, something gnawing at him, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was—only that it gnawed at him relentlessly.

Jace let out a soft chuckle and shook his head as he sat on the sofa, a knowing look in his eyes that made it clear he wasn’t buying his attempt at pretended indifference.

‘’That’s rich, you were pacing around like a caged dragon.’’

He sighed and decided it would be best to divert the topic rather than try to weave a string of lies that would get him nowhere.

"When did you return from Casterly Rock?", he asked instead.

"This morning." 

He nodded, "And Mother?" 

He slid onto the sofa beside Jace, and finally became aware of the ache in his feet, surprised at how much time had passed in his aimless pacing. He hadn’t even realized how much it had taken a toll until he sat down.

Jace smirked at his question.

"Let's just say it was easier to earn her forgiveness than to secure her approval." 

He chuckled lightly, a bittersweet understanding settling over him.

It was a perfect description of their mother—formidable when she needed to be, but always tempered with a quiet gentleness towards her sons.

She was a woman of great strength, but not of cruel expectations. Even with all of Jace’s duties as the heir, she always seemed to lighten his burdens when they threatened to crush him.

He remembered his own frustrations with the weight of his future, and how instead of rebuking him, she had calmly assured him that she would help him bear it.

‘’My father looked after me, and helped prepare me for my duties. Your mother will do the same for you.’’

"I take it the treaty was successful?", he pressed on.

"As successful as it could be under the circumstances.", his brother replied as if it was no large feat.

And yet the proud smile he donned told him it was a resounding victory for their mother’s cause.

"Will you tell me what’s troubling you now?" Jacaerys asked, soft and coaxing.

He exhaled a long sigh, the weight of the question settling over him.

There was no point in hiding it anymore, therefore gave in, allowing the truth to surface, knowing that pretending otherwise would only prolong the tension.

"Aemond is already betrothed to another.’’ he informed, the words tasting bitter on his tongue, a knot of dread tightening in his chest as he spoke, ‘’He promised his hand to a Baratheon to solidify their support for Aegon's cause." 

‘’A Baratheon?’’ Jace’s brows furrowed, ‘’But that cannot come to pass, Aegon’s cause is lost and he’s betrothed to you now.’’ 

That fact alone should have eased his worries, and yet it brought him no comfort.

‘’He’s gone to Storm’s End to dissolve the betrothal.’’, he added.

Jace nodded, his eyes wandering over his chambers as he clearly saw the gears in his brother’s head turn as he came to the obvious conclusion regarding his behavior. 

‘’You’re worried he might not succeed.’’, his brother said with surety, not bothering to pose it as a question.

‘’I’m worried he might not want to succeed.’’, he amended. 

After all, Aemond had been granted the freedom to choose his own path by their mother’s decree, and no one could fault him for favoring a match with a powerful, well-established house over one with his own nephew—the very same nephew who had maimed him in the past.

‘’Then he would be a fool to choose that damp crag over the mightiest fleet in all of Westeros.’’

He wanted to believe it, wanted to cling to the notion that the allure of Driftmark, with its wealth and power, would outweigh Aemond's resentment toward him. Yet, even as he thought it, the conviction faltered.

Deep down, he knew that the bonds of blood and bitterness were not so easily dismissed.

”I suppose you’re right.”, he muttered halfheartedly. 

"I’ve been wondering—why did you consent to this betrothal in the first place?" Jace asked, his voice laced with a quiet curiosity.

The question caught Lucerys off guard, as though it had come from nowhere, and for a moment, he was left speechless.

The answer should’ve been obvious, shouldn’t it?

"I fail to understand. Our uncle is well-educated, skilled with a sword, and commands the largest dragon in the world—"

"Yes, but he’s Aemond.’’ Jace interrupted, incredulity clear in his tone ‘’Why would you willingly bind yourself to a man like that? Especially given the history between you two, and all the more so when he's made his disdain for us abundantly clear." 

As if on cue, the purposeful words Aemond declared in his toast echoed in his head.

Three. Strong. Boys.

"And what of you?’’ he parried back, ‘’Why did you seek Aegon’s hand?" 

"Because I love him."

His eyes widened as the full weight of those words sank in. Jace responded with such immediacy that it almost seemed as though his brother hadn't even paused to consider the question before replying.

"W-what?’’ he stuttered, ‘’You love him?" 

Jace smiled in amusement, ‘’Why does that come as a surprise?’’ 

‘’He’s…’’ he chose the politest word in place of whore he could, ‘’promiscuous. A drunk. A liar. He’s always been a mess, and you chose him to marry. You could’ve had someone else—someone with more dignity, someone who wasn’t a… a wreck." 

Jacaerys let out a weary sigh, as though those words were all too familiar to him.

"He is far from perfect,’’ his brother agreed, ‘’but beneath it all, there's so much more to him that others fail to recognize." 

He had always believed that, like his own, his brother's marriage was one born of compromise—reluctantly shaped to secure the unity their mother so desperately sought.

A strange mix of envy and relief settled over him as he came to the quiet realization: of the two of them, at least one would find love in their union.

"Is that why you followed him to Casterly Rock?", he asked gently.

"Yes.’’ Jace replied, his expression guarded and firm, ‘’The thought of something happening to him— I couldn’t bear it.". 

The same idea formed in his head once again.

If Jace could do it, why couldn’t he? After all, the entire point of these betrothals was to secure unity, he would be working for his mother’s cause by ensuring that the betrothal broke without any repercussions.  

It seemed his thoughts had been both too silent and yet too loud, for his brother seemed to read his mind without a word being spoken.

‘’Luke,’’ Jace began, his tone carrying the weight of authority, like that of a concerned parent, ‘’I’m telling you now, it isn’t a good idea to follow him.‘’

He huffed, "You’re just like Mother." 

"She’s right. It’s foolish. You shouldn’t be putting yourself in danger." 

He couldn’t conceal the offense in his voice, stung by the hypocrisy in his brother’s words.

"Why shouldn’t I?’’ he asked with ire, ‘’You did the same." 

"That was different." 

"How? Because I’m an omega?" 

"You know that’s not what I meant." 

"Because you’re smart and I’m stupid?" 

‘’I didn’t say that.’’ 

"Because that when you defy Mother, it’s for a noble cause, but when I do, I’m simply being foolish?" 

Jace’s jaw tightened, “I will throttle you to the ground.”

He huffed and crossed his arms, feeling like the blood rushing through his head wouldn’t calm no matter how much he wanted it to, all while knowing full well that he was doing nothing but acting like a petulant child.

The tension of their unspoken disagreement hung in the air, thick and suffocating.

Finally, unable to bear it any longer, he decided to break the silence and extend an olive branch.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, a wave of self-doubt washing over him as he once again questioned what was wrong with him.

Jace took a deep breath like he always did whenever he wanted to expel out his anger, and turned to look at him with sincere eyes.

"Look," Jace said, his tone firm but not unkind, "if you feel you must follow him, I won't stop you. But if you do, I'm coming with you."

"I'm not going to follow him," he declared, the words coming out with a firmness he didn't feel, fully aware it was nothing but a bold-faced lie.

His brother didn’t seem convinced, but gave a resigned nod nonetheless.

"Very well, I'll leave you to it," he said, rising to his feet.

Jace’s steps were quiet at first, fading into the distance until the sound of them vanished completely.

Left alone with his thoughts once more, he paced restlessly for a while before finally coming to a halt by the fireplace. The flames danced before him, their flickering light a reminder of the very power House Targaryen owed its strength to.

Daemon’s words echoed in his mind, as if his subconscious knew it was exactly what he needed to hear in this moment.

More specifically, it was Daemon’s response to his question—one that had burned in his mind since that day when he had asked why their mother would choose to marry Alicent Hightower, despite the woman’s betrayal.

"A dragon takes what they want."

There was no hesitation in Daemon’s voice when he’d said it, no doubt—just the cold certainty of a predator.

A dragon didn’t beg, didn’t compromise. A dragon took.

And for the first time, he wondered: Why not him?

He wasn’t just any man—he was a dragon as well.

And dragons didn’t wait for permission. They seized what was theirs, regardless of the cost.

The thoughts swirled in his mind, spiraling relentlessly, but his body moved of its own accord.

His steps grew more determined, the sound of his boots echoing off the stone walls as he left his chambers.

Heading straight for the dragonpit.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra lingered in the council chambers long after Luke had departed, her fingers absentmindedly twisting the rings on her hands while her other hand gently traced the curve of her swollen belly.

A torrent of thoughts raged within her, all centered on the task she had entrusted to Aemond.

Rhaenys, ever the keen observer, had remained quietly watching her, and now, breaking the heavy silence that had enveloped them, she spoke.

“You are plagued with worry,” Rhaenys commented, her words not framed as a question, but a statement of fact, keenly noting the unspoken truth.

Rhaenyra exhaled a soft sigh, momentarily taken aback by her cousin’s uncanny ability to read her so effortlessly. A flicker of pride stirred within her, pleased by how astutely she had chosen the woman as her Lady Hand.

“Borros is an eternally proud man,” she murmured, her voice tinged with a mixture of resignation and understanding. “He will not take this news with grace.”

Rhaenys leaned back in her chair, her gaze contemplative.

“To lose the chance to align himself with the royal family is no small blow,” she replied, her tone measured, “I know his position all too well.”

Rhaenyra fully understood the weight of Rhaenys' words. The elder woman, who had once been denied the chance to align herself with the royal family—first by her father's rejection of Laena, and later by her own decision to refuse the hands of Baela and Rhaena for Luke and Jacaerys—knew all too well the bitter cost of such lost opportunities.

The weight of exhaustion finally overtook her, and Rhaenyra’s swollen feet screamed for relief. With a quiet, weary sigh, she eased herself back into her chair, her body protesting the movement.

She silently wished for the end of this pregnancy. No matter how deeply she loved her children, she couldn’t deny that after four pregnancies—soon to be five—she had grown weary of the toll it took on her body.

"The chances of Aemond succeeding are slim, aren't they?" Rhaenyra asked, though she already knew the answer her cousin would give.

"Indeed, the odds are not in his favor," Rhaenys conceded, pausing to consider it further, "Perhaps I should join Aemond—speak with my cousin myself. He might be amenable to reason from one of his own kin."

Rhaenyra shook her head firmly.

"No," she replied. "Aemond created this mess, and he will be the one to resolve it."

It wasn’t just about the task at hand; she wanted her brother to prove himself—needed him to demonstrate his dedication and capability, to show that he was worthy to stand as a competent consort to her son.

Rhaenys nodded, a quiet understanding passing between them. Her cousin, observany as ever, likely grasped the unspoken reasoning without the need for further explanation.

It was yet another testament to the years Rhaenys had lived and the wisdom she had gleaned from them.

After a few moments of contemplative silence, Rhaenys finally spoke, her tone carrying an air of expectation.

"There is another matter I would like to discuss with you." she said, her voice steady and deliberate.

Rhaenyra, grateful for the shift in topic, raised her brows slightly, her expression relaxing.

"Yes?"

"I wish to summon Baela to King's Landing from Dragonstone," Rhaenys said, her tone measured and cautious. "If it’s no trouble, of course."

"Dragonstone?" Rhaenyra echoed, her brow furrowing in confusion. "Has she not returned to Driftmark?"

Her Lady Hand looked at her as if the answer were self-evident.

"Of course not. She was entrusted with guarding the island. She will not abandon her post unless her queen relieves her of it."

Rhaenyra’s hand instinctively rested on her belly, a small smile curling at the corners of her lips as warmth spread through her heart.

Daemon's daughter was as steadfast in her loyalty as her father, despite the few opportunities they’d had to truly bond.

She and Rhaena had shared more moments together, but Baela’s devotion spoke volumes.

"Of course," she agreed, her voice soft with affection. "I’ll write to her myself."

"Thank you," Rhaenys said, her smile a mirror of Rhaenyra’s own, a sense of gratitude present in her eyes. "It would bring me great comfort to have my ward by my side again."

Rhaenyra’s gaze softened.

"You’ve raised her well," she complimented.

Her words were sincere, especially after witnessing the valour Baela had shown when the possibility of waging war for her claim was evident.

She knew she could have depended on the girl without any doubts if the situation called for it.

Rhaenys returned the compliment with equal warmth.

"And you have done the same with all your children," her eyes met Rhaenyra’s with genuine admiration. "Including Rhaena."

Rhaenyra felt a deep, unspoken appreciation settle in her chest. She hadn’t realized how much her cousin's approval would mean until she heard it.

"I thought Baela was more like Daemon at first," Rhaenyra remarked, her voice thoughtful as she considered the girl. "But now, I see so much of Laena in her." 

Her mind drifted back to her childhood, to the girl she had known so well—the daughter of Rhaenys, her cousin, and a fierce spirit in her own right.

She remembered the days when they would collect seashells together, a bond forged in childhood innocence and shared adventures.

Laena, with her kindness and her fire, had been taken from them too soon, but her legacy lived on in her daughters, who bore not only her face but her very essence.

Rhaenys, likely recalling similar memories, seemed lost in a quiet sorrow, a longing that spoke of a grief she had carried for so long.

The sorrow of losing a daughter on distant shores, far away from home.

"As do I," Rhaenys murmured in a soft voice, her tone carrying the weight of enduring loss.

**

Lucerys was aware he had chosen the worst possible time to take flight on Arrax. The clouds above Shipbreaker’s Bay roiled like a storm of fury, as treacherous as the waters below.

He rode his dragon with more caution he had ever taken before, gripping the saddle’s handles tightly to maintain his balance.

Despite the chains securing him firmly to the saddle and the trust he had in his cradlemate, he felt unsteady, as though the very air around him was conspiring to shake his resolve.

The cold gnawed at Lucerys, sending shivers through his bones, and parts of his body began to feel entirely numb. His vision blurred repeatedly, the constant lash of rain and wind blurring his sight as he blinked rapidly to stay focused.

He had rarely flown in such treacherous conditions—his mother had always discouraged it—but today, he knew there would be no turning back. He had to brave the storm to reach his destination.

Finally, through the shifting darkness of the clouds, the looming silhouette of Storm’s End appeared.

A wave of relief washing over him as he sensed an end to the torment.

He tugged at the reins, guiding Arrax through the turbulent skies, pushing through the worst of the storm to reach the safety of the castle below.

Lucerys felt Arrax's claws scrape against the stone courtyard of Storm’s End beneath him as the dragon landed with a familiar roar, looking around to take in the surroundings.

The cold air and the shadowed castle walls greeted him, but it was the watchful gaze of the armored knights standing at the door that caught his attention.

Their postures were rigid, their faces masked in stoic control as they observed his arrival.

He dismounted and ran a shivering and cold hand over Arrax's neck, feeling the dragon's warmth beneath his fingers as he began to move forward and make his way inside.

But before he could take more than a few steps, a deafening roar split the air, one far larger and more menacing than Arrax’s.

Instinctively, he turned his head just as a bolt of lightning cracked across the sky, briefly illuminating the massive silhouette of a dragon—its form monstrous in the storm's dark embrace.

Vhagar.

A shuddering breath escaped Lucerys as the cold air bit through his soaking wet clothes, the chill worsening by each second that passed.

For a moment, another bout of nonsensical relief washed over him as he realized Aemond was inside the castle.

Despite knowing his uncle was headed to Storm’s End—the very reason he had followed him—it stirred a strange sort of comfort to know a familiar face would be inside, that he wouldn’t be alone in a sea of strangers.

When Lucerys reached the guards, he straightened himself he held himself the proud prince, just like Demon had taught him, speaking with as much confidence as he could muster, forcing his voice to remain steady despite the biting cold.

“I am Prince Lucerys Velaryon,” he declared, striving to keep the tremor from his words. “I seek an audience with Lord Borros.”

The guards responded with a quick, respectful bow, then turned with a rigid, almost synchronized movement, their limbs moving in perfect unison as they led him inside.

Once inside, Lucerys heard one of them announce his arrival, though his gaze was already searching the hall, looking for his kin.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon, son of Rhaenyra Targaryen.”

He didn’t have to look for long, as a glimmer of silver caught his eye. When Lucerys turned his head, Aemond was already staring back at him, his lone violet eye wide with surprise.

“Lucerys.”

His uncle's voice rang out, laced with disbelief, as if it were unimaginable that Lucerys had dared to follow him here.

Then, from the throne at the far end of the hall, a low chuckle echoed through the room. The sound was grating, like a stone scraping against the earth.

“I must say,” the man Lucerys presumed to be Lord Borros remarked, “I wasn’t expecting two guests in one day. What a pleasant surprise this is.”

Sarcasm was evident in the man's expression, and before Lucerys could respond, Aemond spoke up, his voice calm and even, betraying none of the surprise he had clearly felt moments before.

"My Lord, if you could have one of the chambers prepared, and perhaps a hot bath for my nephew, if it isn’t too much trouble,” Aemond said smoothly, his tone carrying an edge of polite command.

Lord Borros’ smile widened, as though the entire situation greatly amused him.

“Of course, my prince,” Borros replied, his politeness so overtly fake that even Lucerys could see through it. “Forgive my oversight.”

“And let us halt our discussion for now,” Aemond added, his voice still calm, though with an air of finality.

Borros’ smile faltered ever so briefly, but he quickly recovered, maintaining his veneer of civility.

“Very well, we shall continue at dinner,” he said, casting a sweeping glance over the hall, taking in the assembly. “I’m sure we’ll have a lively table with all these new additions.”

“Thank you for your hospitality,” his uncle said, his words wrapped in cold politeness.

“I assure you,” Borros replied, his eye glinting with something darker, “the pleasure’s all mine.”

As the knights escorted him once more, Lucerys’ gaze fell upon a line of four figures standing nearby, all of their eyes fixed upon him. Two men and two women, and he didn’t need to guess who they were.

The black hair, black eyes, pale skin—everything about them spoke for itself. Their resemblance to Lord Borros was unmistakable; some wore his sharp nose, others his sneer.

And they all shared the same cold, unmistakable air of contempt with which they stared at him.

Lord Borros’ children, he immediately concluded, his mind already racing to identify which of them his uncle had chosen for himself.

The fire that had been kindled in his belly flared hotter, still burning strong, undimmed by the storm he had braved, though he couldn’t yet understand the reason for it.

Chapter Text

Lucerys could tell that Aemond’s polite tone towards Lord Borros was nothing but a facade.

He knew all too well that his uncle would be seething with anger when he decided to take an impromptu trip to Storm’s End, trailing behind for reasons he still couldn't fully comprehend.

And as it turned out, he was right.

The moment Lord Borros’ guards escorted him into one of the damp, dreary chambers of the castle, Aemond followed silently behind.

His uncle’s fury was barely concealed, simmering beneath the surface until the door was shut, leaving them alone—at least until the servants arrived with the bath his uncle had so graciously requested for him.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Aemond growled, his voice thick with barely-contained anger.

Lucerys sighed, still shivering from the cold rainwater that had soaked him during his flight. He hoped this confrontation would be brief—preferably over before he caught a chill.

“What does it look like? I’m here to help.”

Aemond’s expression twisted in disdain.

“Your mere presence alone creates more problems,” he snarled, his tone biting. “And in your condition, what help could you possibly offer?”

He raised an eyebrow. “My condition?”

Aemond’s lips curled into a cruel sneer as his eye swept over him, making a cold shiver race down his spine, one not caused by the cold in his bones.

“You’re soaked, taoba. Was it the storm, or did you piss yourself?”

He took a deep breath and shook his head, realizing he couldn’t entirely fault his uncle’s anger—especially when, deep down, he himself believed it was justified.

He knew that anyone in his family, whether his mother, his siblings, or heaven forbid, Daemon, would react in the same way.

It was almost a small comfort to know that Aemond could be added to that list of those who cared, but it offered little solace in the face of the uncertainty that loomed before him.

He was still too preoccupied with the matter at hand to feel any relief though. Not when he didn’t even understand what his uncle’s true motivations were.

"Delightful as always, I see, Uncle," he began with feigned lightness, "Is that truly how you address your betrothed?"

Aemond inhaled sharply, clearly tense. "That—"

"Oh, wait—I'm not your betrothed, because you've already pledged yourself to a bloody Baratheon," he interrupted, his words sharp and devoid of any humor.

It was now Aemond’s turn to shake his head, as if he were dealing with an unruly child—or perhaps, in this moment, he was.

“And I am here to rectify the situation, am I not?” Aemond said, his tone calm, stripped of anger.

But those words offered Lucerys no comfort. They were insufficient—far too little—and he didn’t know what would be enough.

What he couldn’t understand was why he needed so much reassurance, why the thought that Aemond might not want to marry him unsettled him so.

Not when noble alphas from every corner of the Seven Kingdoms would surely vie for his hand in an instant if his mother called for it.

He told himself it was because he needed Aemond—needed all that he brought with him: his knowledge, his skill, and the might of the largest dragon in the world, all by his side.

He told himself he needed to make amends for his mistake, to forge the unity his mother had so desperately sought.

"Are you?" he asked, stepping closer, his gaze sharp. "Is that truly what you seek?"

Aemond paused for a moment as he sensed something was amiss.

Despite the situation, he couldn't help but recognize the faint flicker of admiration for his uncle’s perceptiveness.

"If you're accusing me of some plot, nephew, you'll need to be more explicit," Aemond replied, his tone a mixture of curiosity and caution.

Lucerys swallowed, unsure if he even wanted to hear the answer to the question he was about to ask.

"Which one of Borros' children did you choose?", he asked with dread.

Aemond's brows furrowed in confusion, as though the question had come from nowhere. "What?"

"It was the heir, I presume," he continued, his voice steady but the words cutting deeper than he had intended. He hadn’t realized how much it would hurt to say them out loud. "I don't think you'd settle for less."

His uncle tilted his head, still confused. "What are you getting at?"

"I know you seek power and a strong seat," he clarified, his tone growing more pointed.

"Any second son without inheritance would seek the same in my position," Aemond parried, his gaze sharpening. "What is your point, nephew?"

Lucerys knew the truth, though he fully accepted it by now. Marriage, in his world, was about advantage, alliances—nothing like the romantic notion his mother had with Daemon or Jace would eventually have with Aegon.

He understood that his future held no such hope. His potential marriage to Aemond would never be about love. It would be a penance, a gesture to atone for the damage he had caused—the permanent harm inflicted on his uncle.

He let out another shiver, rubbing his arms as he took a shuddering breath. The cold and the soaking wetness only seemed to intensify, sinking into his bones.

"You didn’t answer my question. Which one of them did you choose?"

The realization finally dawned on Aemond’s face, and he saw the understanding flicker in his uncle’s eyes—the reason behind all his incessant questions.

"You think I’d prefer being consort to Storm’s End over Driftmark?"

The words felt like a blow, even though his uncle hadn’t entirely dismissed the idea of their marriage.

Hearing them aloud, however, left him unsettled, made his worries intensify.

"I would not think it outlandish if that were your plan," he said quietly, a shiver in his voice as he rubbed his arms, failing miserably to warm himself.

Aemond sighed, the tension visibly easing from his body.

Without a word, he reached for one of the thick cloths already placed in the chamber and moved toward him. He draped it over Lucerys' head, his large hands gently working through his damp curls, rubbing the water out.

His eyes widened at the unexpected, almost intimate gesture. "What are y—"

"Stand still," Aemond interrupted, his voice firm but not unkind.

He bit his lip, feeling his cheeks flush with embarrassment, but made no protest.

The warmth was welcome, the care was welcome, and yet, he couldn’t help but feel a pang of weakness—he was a weak, weak person for how his omegan nature thrived on such treatment.

Despite his uncle’s earlier anger, the hands that gently rubbed through his hair felt almost tender, as if he were something precious—even though he knew he wasn’t.

"I am many things, My Lord Strong," Aemond spoke softly, his voice unexpectedly calm, "but I’m not a liar. When I agreed to marry you, I meant it. I would be foolish to give up such an advantageous match."

Lucerys looked up to meet Aemond’s eye, and the motion of his uncle’s hands came to a halt.

Instead, the cloth remained draped over his head, and his uncle gently cradled his face, the warmth of his palm a stark contrast to the coldness of his cheeks.

‘"Even if you have to tie yourself to a dirty bastard?" he asked, trepidation creeping into his voice.

Aemond smirked, the corners of his lips curling in amusement. His thumbs traced slow circles on the high points of Lucerys' cheeks, the warmth of his touch spreading through him.

"Yes," Aemond replied, his tone surprisingly gentle, "even if it means tying myself to a dirty bastard, Driftmark is worth the sacrifice."

There was jest in his uncle's voice, but he could tell it was also the truth—this was how Aemond saw him.

Nothing more than a ‘dirty bastard.’

A knock at the door broke the moment, and he felt a pang of disappointment as Aemond pulled away, discarding the cloth on a nearby chair and straightening his coat, clearly preparing to leave once more.

‘"Bathe yourself and get dressed."

He nodded, his curiosity getting the better of him. "And then what?"

Aemond glanced over his shoulder as he made his way to the door.

"And then," he started, his tone resolute, "we go to supper—one that, hopefully, will go according to plan, even if the negotiations and this entire situation aren't unfolding as I had hoped."

He sighed as his uncle opened the door and left, letting the servants come in with the hot water for his bath.

He supposed it was victory enough to know Driftmark was enough to motivate his uncle to marry him.

Chapter Text

Lucerys had little idea of what to expect from supper at Storm’s End.

The hall was alive with raucous conversation, the long table brimming with platters of roasted meats and heavy goblets of ale.

At its head sat Lord Borros, a commanding presence, flanked by his wife, Lady Elenda, on one side and Florian on the other.

Aemond was seated beside Lady Baratheon, while Lucerys sat at his other side, directly facing the four children of Lord Borros.

The Four Storms, as they were known—a title he had learned upon their introduction. Two sons and two daughters, all omegas.

The meal had begun under an uneasy hush, a deceptive quiet that lulled Lucerys into a false sense of security.

For a fleeting moment, he allowed himself to believe the evening might pass without incident.

But, like all things that seemed too good to be true, the peace was short-lived.

The shift was subtle at first, but Lucerys caught it—the glint in Maris Baratheon’s eye as she rose, a carafe in hand.

There was something almost predatory in the way she moved, the way she leaned in far too close as she poured wine into Aemond’s goblet, her bodice dipping scandalously low, as though she expected her neckline to do the speaking for her.

“I must say, my prince, it is nothing short of remarkable how you command such a mighty beast as Vhagar,” she mused, taking her time with the pour, each drop drawn out like a calculated performance. A smirk played at her lips as she finally met Aemond’s gaze. “Is it true she allows no one but you to ride her?”,

He nearly choked on his wine right then and there.

If Aemond was at all aware of Maris’s shameless flirtation, he gave no indication.

His uncle simply accepted her so-called hospitality—if it could even be called that—with a quiet murmur of thanks.

“She is particular,” he answered smoothly.

“She must have excellent taste, then,” Cassandra, the eldest, giggled, twirling a dark lock of hair around her finger. “Just like you, my prince.”

Lucerys narrowed his eyes. Did these women truly think they were being subtle?

“I shall take that as a compliment,” Aemond replied, his tone unfailingly polite.

“Prince Aemond, would you ever grant me the honor of flying with you someday?’’, Maris asked in a voice as sweet as honey, ‘’It must be… exhilarating.”

Lucerys could see through her saccharine facade as plainly as the wine in his cup.

He stabbed his fork into a piece of meat, wondering—just for a moment—if he could do the same to her hand and pass it off as an unfortunate accident.

“Vhagar is not accustomed to carrying strangers,” Aemond declined, his voice just as courteous as before.

Lucerys very nearly rolled his eyes. His uncle was trying to keep the peace, but it didn’t mean he had to like it.

Having had quite enough of this nonsense, he finally spoke, humming as he swirled his wine in his goblet.

“Indeed. Dragons are no mere beasts. They are creatures of great intelligence, deeply bonded to their riders.” He took a slow, deliberate sip of wine before adding, deadpan, “And they are particularly selective about their meals. A stranger attempting to climb onto Vhagar is more likely to end up as her supper than enjoy a pleasant flight.”

He ignored the fire of fury coiling his gut as he spoke, wondering why he was so frustrated int the first place anyways.

The amusement in Maris’s gaze flickered for a brief moment, but she recovered quickly, turning her attention back to him with a pointed smile.

“And what of your dragon, my prince?” she parried, the honeyed warmth gone from her tone, though the grin remained. “Arrax is small, is he not? You must have been lucky he didn’t get lost in the storm.”

Lucerys returned her smile, matching her false pleasantness with one of his own. He would not give her the satisfaction.

“Oh, I wasn’t worried. Arrax may be small, but he’s more than capable of burning anyone to a crisp on command.” He took another unhurried sip of his wine before adding, almost thoughtfully, “If anything, his size just makes aiming easier.”

Silence fell over the table.

Perhaps, he mused, he had taken it a step too far.

Before Lucerys could say anything else, the Lady Baratheon intervened, her voice laced with forced cheer.

“Why don’t you try the roast goose, my princes?” she suggested with a strained smile. “I daresay our cook has outdone himself.”

It was a valiant effort to smooth things over, but if she thought that was the end of it, she was sorely mistaken.

Lord Borros’s son, Edward, was all too happy to add more fuel to the fire threatening to consume Lucerys whole.

“A warrior of your caliber must be selective, Prince Aemond,” Edward declared, lifting his goblet in a toast. “A man like you requires a strong omega at his side—someone who can match his fire.”

Before he could stop himself, Lucerys let out a noise that was suspiciously close to a scoff. “Yes, I imagine nothing is more fearsome than being devoured by one’s spouse,” he muttered.

It seemed his words weren’t quite as discreet as he’d hoped, because yet again, an awkward silence settled over the table.

Aemong gave him a small glare as if he were dealing with an unruly child.

He merely shrugged. He saw no fault in his observation.

How long was he supposed to sit there and endure Lord Borros’s offspring fawning over Aemond like a flock of peacocks in heat?

The only one who had managed to restrain themselves was Florian—Aemond’s actual betrothed—who had spent the entire meal gloomily pushing peas around his plate, his shoulders slumped, his gaze firmly downcast.

Lucerys didn’t see what Aemond saw in him.

Frankly, he himself may have been a bastard, but at least he was prettier.

Sensing the growing tension, the Lady Baratheon tried again. “Why don’t I have the servants clear this away?” she suggested. “Let us move on to dessert.”

Lucerys silently prayed this ordeal would end swiftly, but the gods, it seemed, did not hear his pleas.

Because that was the moment Lord Borros finally stopped tearing into his food like a starved hound and spoke.

“Come now, my lady wife,” he said, grinning in satisfaction. “Our children are still indulging.” He gestured lazily to the table before adding with a chuckle, “‘Tis not every day they get to feast on such a… rare and sought-after delicacy.”

Lucerys had no doubt Borros wasn’t referring to anything on the table—nor any food at all, for that matter—judging by the way he was eyeing Aemond like a prized bull at auction.

“So, how long will you be gracing us with your presence, Prince Aemond?” Maris asked, as persistent as ever, a coy smile playing on her lips.

To his credit, Aemond did not immediately rise and flee the table. Instead, he set down his goblet with measured composure and answered evenly,

“As soon as possible. Just until I’ve concluded my business here. Speaking of which, Lord Borros, I believe it is time we discussed the matter of dissolving—”

Before anyone could react, Lord Borros let out a booming laugh, clapping Florian on the back so hard the poor man nearly face-planted into his plate.

“Nonsense! Plenty of time for that later! Florian ought to show you ‘round the Stormlands while you’re here—see the sights!”

Lucerys arched a brow, lips twitching.

“Yes, the sights. What a rare treat—rocks, and more rocks.” He gestured vaguely toward the rain-lashed windows. “If you’re lucky, my prince, you may even catch sight of a particularly interesting rock.”

Across the table, the Lady Baratheon let out a small, muffled laugh against her hand before quickly composing herself.

For the first time since that night, Florian finally spoke, albeit into his wine.

“Don’t forget the waves,” he muttered.

Lord Borros shot him a warning look, and Florian immediately abandoned his goblet, straightening his back as he hastily took a bite of his meal.

Satisfied, Borros turned back to Aemond, his smile wide and self-satisfied.

“Florian is my most beautiful child, you know,” he declared, puffing out his chest. “And accomplished in all the proper omegan ways—embroidery, conversation, all the refinements expected of royalty.”

Lucerys was about to make another quip, but Aemond cut in first.

“Lord Borros, there are important matters to discuss—”

“And of course,” Borros interrupted, waving a dismissive hand, “all my children are fine and accomplished! Cassandra, my eldest, as graceful as she is wise; Edward, a fine scholar; and Maris—oh, Maris is a clever one.”

At that, Aemond flicked his gaze toward Maris, who smirked as she leaned forward, chin resting on her palm.

“Clever enough to know a good match when I see one,” she purred.

Lucerys didn’t need to look at his uncle to know Aemond was rapidly losing patience. He could hear it in the defeated sigh that escaped him.

The ugly, restless feeling coiling in his stomach never settled.

In fact, it only worsened as he watched these insufferable fools string his uncle along. He wanted to toss his wine, flip the table, set something—or someone—on fire.

Alas, he resisted.

“Shall I call for dessert now?” the Lady Baratheon suggested once more, her voice carrying the distinct tone of a woman desperately trying to wrangle chaos.

Lord Borros shot her an annoyed look but, at last, relented.

“Yes, yes, if you must.”

**

Lucerys’ heart positively sank as he realized supper had been an utter failure.

Aemond was still betrothed to Florian, not him, and had made no progress in dissolving it.

After dinner, he made his way outside, heading toward the yard where Arrax was resting.

 The rain had stopped, leaving behind only a biting chill and damp earth that clung to his boots.

At the sound of his approach, Arrax immediately sat up, chirping softly.

Lucerys sighed, running a hand through his curls. “It didn’t happen tonight.”

The dragon sensed his unease—his frustration, his sadness—and pressed forward to nuzzle against his chest.

It was a small comfort, one Lucerys accepted gratefully, rubbing his palm over Arrax’s pearlescent scales.

“I know, I know,” he muttered. “I shouldn’t be so worked up about it. It was always going to take more than one supper to get Lord Borros to agree. Aemond knows that.”

He cast a glance back at the castle and frowned.

 Truly, what was the appeal of inheriting such a place?

 A miserable pile of stone where the rain never stopped, the wind howled like a grieving widow, and the people were either brutes or—worse—flirts with no sense of shame?

He couldn’t imagine a drearier fate. Even Dragonstone, perpetually covered in fog, had better lighting.

The mere thought of Aemond being bound to one of those depraved fools was enough to make his blood boil.

“They were all over him,” he grumbled. “Cassandra, Maris, every one of them. And Florian—just sitting there, looking like he’d already won.” He scoffed. “And Aemond just let it happen. Sat there, entertaining it.”

Arrax let out a quiet growl, shifting his weight in solidarity.

Lucerys gave a wry smile. “You’d have burned them for me, wouldn’t you?”

His anger drained away, leaving only exhaustion in its place. He leaned against Arrax’s warmth, closing his eyes.

He still didn’t understand why he felt like this. The possibility of Aemond marrying Florian shouldn’t have been the end of the world. And yet, it felt like it.

He was a second son. An omega with a noble inheritance. He could have any alpha from any great house if he wanted.

So why, in that moment, did he feel like crying?

“What’s wrong with me?”

**

When he stepped back into the castle, he found it eerily silent. Aside from the stationed guards, there was no one in sight.

He reckoned the servants and residents had long since retired for the night. Even the torches remained unlit, leaving only the dim glow of moonlight to guide his way.

He moved down the hall toward his room, his footsteps echoing against the cold stone. The door came into view, and just as he was about to reach it—

A presence behind him.

He barely had time to react before a hand clamped over his mouth, swallowing his startled gasp. Fingers pressed firmly against his lips, cutting off any chance of calling for help.

A second arm wrapped around his waist, unyielding as iron, yanking him backward with startling force.

Panic erupted in his chest. He thrashed, kicking out blindly, his nails clawing at the arm holding him.

His heart pounded, breaths coming in frantic, muffled bursts. He twisted, bucked, desperate to break free, but his captor was stronger—much stronger, and relentless.

The grip around his waist only tightened, unyielding as steel, dragging him backward into the unknown—a place he instinctively knew he did not want to go.

Terror coiled in his gut like a living thing.

His mind screamed at him to fight, to do something, but it was useless.

The door to his chamber, his only refuge, grew smaller and smaller until it vanished entirely, swallowed by the suffocating darkness.

Chapter Text

As Lucerys was forcefully dragged away, he struggled with all his might, his fingers scraping desperately at whatever surface he could reach, his heels digging into the cold stone floor.

But despite his frantic efforts, his strength proved futile.

The moment his eyes landed on the place he was being pulled toward, a wave of sheer panic hit him.

It was a small, claustrophobic room, the air stale and heavy. Abandoned, most likely—its emptiness underscored by the lack of candles or any source of light save for the faint, ghostly glow of the moon outside.

Trapped with no other option to break free, Lucerys instinctively shifted his focus to the hand that clamped over his mouth.

He moved it just enough to open his jaw and, with every ounce of his remaining will, sank his teeth into the flesh with brutal force.

He bit down with savage intent, determined to leave a mark, to draw blood if necessary.

He might have been an omega, but he was no weakling.

The moment Lucerys’ teeth sunk in, his captor recoiled sharply, the sting of the bite prompting him to release his grip with immediate haste.

Once he spun around, he was met with the last person he ever expected to see in that forsaken place.

“Ow, you little beast!” Florian exclaimed, his voice laced with irritation.

Lucerys stood frozen, disbelief flooding his mind as he took in the sight of the other omega.

“What in the—? You?!” Lucerys blurted, his voice rising in shock.

Florian winced slightly as he clutched his hand and shook his head indignantly, as though chastising a disobedient child.

“Yes, me,” Lord Borros’ off-spring confirmed, his tone exasperated. “Did you really have to bite me? What is wrong with you?”

Lucerys gaped at him with sheer incredulity, still reeling from the encounter. The audacity of Florian’s words left him speechless for a moment.

“You dragged me into the dark like some common cutthroat!” Lucerys finally exploded, his hands flinging up in exasperation. “What in the name of the Seven is wrong with you?!”

Florian pouted, his gaze shifting away. “I only wished to talk.”

The words only deepened the absurdity of the situation. The fear that had gripped Lucerys faded as quickly as it had appeared, leaving him bewildered.

“Talk?” Lucerys echoed, incredulous. “And you couldn’t have knocked on my door like a normal person?”

Florian opened his mouth, then stopped, realization dawning on him.

“…I suppose I could have.”

A long silence stretched between them.

Lucerys crossed his arms, unimpressed.

“Is this how all Baratheons resolve things, or is it just you?”

Florian huffed, hands on his hips.

“Are you going to keep being cheeky, or can we actually talk now?”

Lucerys eyed the man warily, the omega standing before him was Aemond’s betrothed—a direct contender for his consort’s hand.

That alone should have been enough to make Lucerys walk away, to erase this moment from his mind and pretend it never happened.

Not to mention Florian’s previous actions had already given him ample reason to be suspicious.

Still, something gnawed at him, urging him to listen.

“Fine,” he said reluctantly. “Go on.”

Florian moved closer, his face set with an unmistakable determination, his voice laced with desperation.

“I do not want this betrothal,” he confessed, his words hanging heavy in the air.

The admission struck Lucerys like a sudden blow.

It was the last thing he had expected. He uncrossed his arms, scrutinizing Florian's face, searching for any trace of deceit.

But there was none to be found.

“Are you serious?” Lucerys asked, disbelief flickering in his tone.

Florian let out an exasperated groan, as though he had no patience left for Lucerys’ questions.

“No, I dragged you into the shadows as a jest,” Florian replied with a roll of his eyes. “Yes, I’m serious. This betrothal was my father’s doing, not mine. I had no choice in the matter.” He gestured dramatically,  ‘Oh, Florian, be a good son and marry the most terrifying man in the realm, won’t you?’” He scowled in clear distaste. “Do you think I enjoy being paraded around like some prized mare at auction? Do you think I want to be bound to the most insufferable, brooding, dragon-obsessed—”

“Alright, alright, I get it.” Lucerys cut him off, a slight frown crossing his face. “But why not just tell Aemond? If you hate the match so much, why didn’t you speak to him instead of ambushing me in a hallway?”

Florian looked at him as though he were speaking a foreign tongue. Lucerys might as well have claimed the sky was green instead of blue for all the sense he made.

“Have you ever tried telling that man anything?” Florian asked, though it was clear he didn’t expect a response. “I’m fairly certain he could silence someone just by blinking.”

Lucerys pursed his lips. “…I mean—”

“And he stares at people, princeling. Stares.” Florian shuddered. “Not the flirty kind of staring, mind you. Not the ‘Oh, I long for you across the feasting table’ type. No, no. The ‘I am memorizing your weaknesses in case I ever need to dispose of you’ kind.”

Lucerys bit back the urge to scold the man, his patience running thin.

He didn’t want to hear any of this—especially not about Aemond, especially not from someone who seemed so unaware of how fortunate he was to be betrothed to him.

“You’re being dramatic,” Lucerys muttered.

“I’m being accurate,” Florian huffed, his tone laced with mock seriousness. “Aemond is terrifying. He’s the kind of man who probably stands by a window when it rains, brooding over nothing.”

Lucerys frowned, trying to ignore the pang of defensiveness that rose within him. “That’s not—”

“Oh, it is,” Florian interrupted, pointing a finger at him accusingly. “And you just know he whispers cryptic phrases to himself for dramatic effect. Just wandering the halls, muttering ‘Fire and blood,’ because he enjoys the ambiance.”

Lucerys stiffened, his eyes narrowing. “He does not.”

“Oh, he does,” Florian said with a knowing smirk. “And I bet he reads philosophy for fun, too.”

Lucerys’ brow furrowed. He knew Aemond was well-studied, but that was an advantage, was it not?

“That’s not a crime.”

“But that doesn’t change the fact that your dear, one-eyed uncle looks like he crawled out of a haunted portrait.”

Lucerys bristled at the remark. “I disagree.”

Florian arched an eyebrow, his eyes narrowing as he sensed the shift in Lucerys’ tone.

“Oh? You sound rather offended.”

“I am!” Lucerys snapped, struggling to find the right words. “Aemond is—he’s…” He floundered for a moment, before lifting his chin defiantly. “He’s handsome. His features are refined.”

Florian chuckled at that, clearly finding amusement in Lucerys’ defense.

“Refined?” he mocked, “He looks like he refines poisons in a dark tower for a living.”

Lucerys scowled. “His silver hair is beautiful.”

Florian smirked. “Yes, and I’m certain he brushes it ominously by candlelight, like some villain preparing for a grand speech.”

Lucerys ignored him, pressing on. “His jawline is well-defined.”

“Oh, certainly. Perfect for clenching every time he disapproves of something—which, if I’m not mistaken, is everything.”

Lucerys scowled, more irritated by the moment. “His eye—”

Florian grinned widely. “Ah, yes. Singular.”

Lucerys inhaled sharply. “—is violet, deep and piercing.”

Florian made a show of considering that, then sighed in mock admiration.

“So he glares in rare Targaryen colors. How delightful.”

Lucerys clenched his fists, his patience wearing thin.

“You’re impossible. Do you ever shut up?”

Florian gave Lucerys a slow, deliberate once-over, his lips curling into a smile that Lucerys had an overwhelming urge to punch off his face.

“Not when I’m having this much fun,” Florian said, his voice dripping with amusement. His smirk widened. “But I must say, you’re very passionate about this. Defending his looks, singing his praises—” He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with mischief. “You like him.”

Lucerys recoiled in disbelief. “I—what? No! That’s absurd!”

The heat rising in his cheeks was undeniable, and he cursed the reaction.

There was no way he and Aemond could ever like each other.

They would be married out of duty, have children out of obligation, and live lives of quiet, distant coexistence, eventually ruling Driftmark together. That was all it would ever be.

Florian waggled his brows in a teasing manner.

“Is it? Because it sure sounds like you’ve spent quite a bit of time admiring his ‘noble features.’”

Lucerys crossed his arms, trying to maintain some semblance of composure. “I was simply stating facts.”

Florian giggled, clearly enjoying every moment.

“Oh, of course. And I suppose next you’ll tell me you don’t secretly wonder what he looks like when he smiles?”

Lucerys made a strangled noise, frustration bubbling up inside him. “I hate you.”

Florian beamed. “A pleasure, truly.”

Lucerys chose not to respond. He knew that any retort would only be met with more provoking remarks, expertly crafted to rile him up.

So, he fell silent, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.

When Florian noticed that their back-and-forth had come to an end, his playful demeanor vanished, replaced by a solemn expression.

He stepped forward again, his tone shifting to something far more serious.

"I truly don't want this betrothal, young prince," Florian confessed again, his voice laced with a desperation that cut through the air. "I don't want to marry Aemond. I don't want to marry anyone."

The words echoed in Lucerys’ mind, the confusion he had felt before returning with full force.

It was clear Florian’s reasons for rejecting the match ran deeper than just Aemond’s personality or his appearance.

"Why?" Lucerys asked, his voice more serious now.

Looking at Florian, he saw something in his eyes that struck him—a deep sadness, an almost tangible grief, mingled with helplessness.

It was as though he was a man resigned to a fate he could not escape, standing before the gallows with no hope of survival.

"Because I want more from life." Florian's voice softened as he gave Lucerys a sidelong glance. "But you wouldn't understand."

Lucerys scoffed, wondering what was so complicated that he could not grasp it.

"What wouldn’t I understand?"

Florian let out a bitter laugh, almost mocking the very notion of understanding.

"You're heir to Driftmark, aren't you? An omega, with an inheritance. Do you have any idea how rare that is?" His words were sharp, almost accusatory.

Lucerys opened his mouth to respond but found himself at a loss for words. Florian's statement was too true.

There was no other omega in the Seven Kingdoms with such a title, no one else who bore the responsibility of an inheritance like he did.

Florian shook his head as if reading his thoughts, sinking down onto one of the small crates in the dimly lit storage room. His shoulders were slumped in a posture that suggested complete devastation.

"You don’t," Florian murmured, his voice heavy "You have no idea how much my life changed the moment I presented." His voice dropped to a softer, wearier tone. "I was twelve. One day, I was just me—running through the halls, sword in hand, learning how to fight. And then, suddenly... I wasn’t a boy anymore. I wasn’t even a person anymore."

The sadness radiating from him was palpable, and though Lucerys felt an instinct to comfort him, he quickly recognized how misplaced that would be.

Instead, he sat beside him, his gaze lingering on Florian, listening intently as he continued his story.

"Suddenly, I was as delicate as a maiden," Florian said bitterly, flinging his hands in mock exasperation. "‘Florian, you mustn’t be so loud.’ ‘Florian, put down that sword.’ ‘Florian, omegas do not sit like that.’" His expression twisted into a grimace. "And embroidery—gods save me."

Despite himself, he found himself sympathizing.

Lucerys could understand the weight of Florian's words, even if his own experience had been different.

No one had treated him too harshly when he presented, but he still felt the shift.

Jace wasn’t as rough with him anymore, and Daemon had grown more protective, watching him with a careful eye.

His mother never outright treated him differently, but it was evident in the way she emphasized his propriety, her expectations shifting to reflect his new role, while Jace seemed to be afforded more leeway.

He paused, the question lingering on his tongue before he finally asked,

“What do you want, then? From life?”

Florian turned to him, his face stripped of its usual bravado. The vulnerability in his eyes was startling.

“I want to be a warrior,” he said firmly. “I want to fight. I want to carve my name into the songs and histories, not because of who I married but because of what I did with my own hands.” He clenched his fists. “I want to stand on a battlefield and have my enemies fear me. I want to prove that I am more than what I presented as.”

Lucerys finally understood the depth of Florian’s frustration—he could see how agonizing it was for him.

Florian wasn’t just being forced into an unwanted marriage; he was being stripped of any agency, reduced to little more than a vessel for children, expected to follow the prescribed path with no regard for his own desires.

It was suffocating.

“I am sorry.”, he couldn’t help but apologise.

“I don’t need apologies, little prince.” Florian shook his head. “I need this betrothal to break.”

Lucerys, still watching him closely, leaned back slightly.

“Do you have any ideas on how to do that?”

Florian blinked.

 “Gods, no.” He scoffed. “If I did, I wouldn’t have dragged you into a dark hallway like a villain in some tawdry play.”

Lucerys snorted. “I’m honored to be a part of your grand, half-baked scheme.”

“I don’t have a scheme,” Florian admitted with a huff. “I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Lucerys hummed in thought.

“Perhaps Lord Borros could be… compensated,” he suggested carefully. “For the loss of aligning himself with the royal family.”

Florian raised an eyebrow. “And what exactly do you think would compensate a man like my father?”

Lucerys tilted his head. “Well, what does he care about?”

Florian didn’t even hesitate.

“Power. Wealth. Status.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Preferably all three at once.”

Lucerys mulled it over for a moment before giving a decisive nod to himself.

"Very well," he said, his tone firm. "I'll find a way to assist you with your... “ he thought it over, ‘’predicament."

Florian’s posture shifted, his eyes lighting up with a flicker of hope.

"You have a course of action, then?" he asked, leaning forward eagerly.

"I’ll have to consult with my uncle," he clarified.

It was clear that moving forward on his own would only take him so far. Aemond shared his motivations and had the influence to make things happen.

 It only made sense to bring his uncle into the fold if there was any hope of success.

“Of course, you do.” Florian muttered. “You’d think the man could make a decision without brooding over it for an hour first?”

Lucerys shot him a look. “Do you want my help or not?”

Florian sighed dramatically but smirked.

“Fine, fine. You’re my only hope, little prince.” He patted Lucerys’ shoulder in mock reverence.

He stood up and dusted himself off.

Once he turned to leave, Florian’s voice stopped him in his tracks.

“You know, you are not at all what I expected.”

He turned around with slight confusion.

“What did you expect?”, he asked curiously.

Florian’s answer was prepared.

"Some spoiled little omega prince. A royal too proud of his inheritance. Someone who looks down on people like me because I have nothing to my name but my family’s ambitions."

It wasnt surprising, of course even the nobles thought of them as a haughty family. After all, they were on the brink of war amongst themselves not too recently.

Lucerys let out a short laugh. “And now?”

Florian tilted his head, considering him. “Now? I think you might actually be bearable.”

Lucerys huffed, shaking his head. “High praise.”

Florian’s gaze turned sincere. He took a deep breath, as if the weight on his shoulders had lessened slightly.

“Thank you.”

He couldn’t help but smile back.

“You’re welcome.”

Chapter Text

After his unexpectedly enlightening conversation with Florian, Lucerys decided it was high time to pay a visit to Aemond’s chambers.

It was late, but patience was hardly his virtue, and the sooner his uncle took care of this betrothal nonsense, the sooner they could return to King’s Landing.

He found the door to Aemond’s quarters easily enough and gave it a soft knock.

He waited, and then waited some more. About to knock again—because surely his uncle was asleep—he suddenly heard movement from within.

Lucerys had everything planned out in his mind: what he would say, how he would explain his awkward conversation with Florian, and, most importantly, what the next steps were.

But as the door swung open, his entire speech vanished as if swept away by a gust of wind.

What stood before him was not the stoic Aemond he expected, but a very unexpected sight.

His uncle—shirtless, no less—stood in the doorway, hair slightly tousled, his sapphire eye glinting in the firelight.

His eye patch? Absent.

And while Lucerys had never exactly considered Aemond to be scrawny, he certainly hadn’t anticipated the muscular version of him.

If he had any misconceptions about his uncle being thin, he certainly wouldn’t have any after this moment.

Aemond, for his part, seemed just as startled, his brow furrowing in confusion.

“Nephew?”

“I… needed to talk,” Lucerys said, his words tumbling out a bit too quickly.

He swallowed, realizing his jaw had gone slack.

 Please don’t notice that I’ve been staring, he silently pleaded, hoping his uncle hadn’t caught him ogling him like some omega in heat.

Aemond blinked at him, eyes narrowing slightly before tilting his head. A smirk tugged at the edge of his lips.

“Most people don’t knock on my door past midnight for a chat, Lucerys.”

The implication of the words hit him like a lightning bolt, and his cheeks flared with heat at the unintended suggestion.

It was a joke, yes, but one that caught him off guard nonetheless.

Lucerys opened his mouth, then shut it again. After a beat, he scowled, more to cover his discomfort than anything. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

Aemond only smirked wider, that infuriating, knowing hum leaving his lips.

The sound seemed to vibrate through the air, sending an unanticipated shiver down Lucerys’s spine.

“Hmm.”

Focusing hard on steadying his nerves, Lucerys glanced around the empty hallway, his irritation momentarily overtaking his embarrassment.

Talking here, in the open, with the weight of their conversation pressing down, wasn’t ideal—especially with his own thoughts running wild.

“May I come in?” he asked, his tone polite but with a hint of impatience. “I won’t take long.”

Aemond leaned against the doorframe, clearly far too entertained for someone supposedly half-asleep.

“Careful, little prince. That sounds awfully like an invitation. You sure you’re not here for something else?”

Lucerys’s eyes narrowed, exasperation bubbling beneath the surface of his growing frustration. “Gods, you’re insufferable.”

With that, he turned, ready to walk away, thinking better of it.

If Aemond wasn’t in the mood to talk, he could always try again later—preferably after his uncle had put some clothes on, so his attention could stay focused on the matter at hand instead of the absurd display of muscles before him.

However, he barely made it five paces before he was halted.

“Wait, my lord Strong,” Aemond’s voice rang out, smooth and insistent. Lucerys turned to see his uncle leaning against the doorframe, a slight tilt of his head directing him toward the interior of his chambers. “Come in.”

Lucerys hesitated, took a deep breath, and reined in his nerves. He had come this far; no turning back now.

With deliberate steps, he crossed the threshold. Aemond shut the door softly behind them.

Once inside, Lucerys found himself standing in the middle of the room, his eyes inevitably drawn to the sight of Aemond casually lounging against a nearby table, his arms crossed, the muscles of his biceps flexing under the tension.

He uncle simply stood there indolently, exuding confidence, waiting for Lucerys to speak.

But of course, Lucerys’s thoughts had completely fled him in the face of the unexpected display.

He tried with all his might to avert his gaze, but it wasn’t as easy as he hoped.

This wasn’t helping.

“Right…” he began, clearing his throat in an attempt to center himself. “Well, if you could... I don’t know, cover up or something? Just a little?”

Aemond’s brows quirked in mock surprise, but his posture didn’t shift. “Why?” he asked, his voice laced with playful challenge. “Is the sight too much for your delicate senses?”

Lucerys’s face flushed a deep red, and he quickly averted his eyes to the floor, as if that could hide the embarrassment on his face.

“It’s not that. I just—”

“Relax, I’m only teasing,” Aemond interjected smoothly, his low chuckle punctuating the words. “No need to get so flustered.”

He pushed himself off the table, a lazy grace to his movements, before turning to grab a shirt from a nearby chair.

As he pulled it on, the fabric clung to his frame, enhancing his already undeniable presence.

“I’m not flustered,” Lucerys muttered, though his cheeks betrayed him, burning bright under the pressure.

Aemond finished slipping on the shirt, giving Lucerys an almost imperceptible smile.

“Sure you’re not.” He paused for a beat, his tone now more serious. “So, what’s so important that you couldn’t wait until morning, hmm?”

Lucerys took a steadying breath, mentally gathering his thoughts before speaking.

“It’s about Florian. He... he talked to me.”

Aemond stared at him for a moment, as though Lucerys had spoken in a language he didn’t quite understand.

“Florian?”

Lucerys nodded, biting his lip. “Yes.”

Aemond repeated the name, as if he were trying to process it. “Florian... talked to you.”

Lucerys gave him a slight nod. “Yes.”

“And when, exactly, did this happen?”

“Just now. After supper.”

Aemond’s expression shifted, the corner of his mouth twitching as though something irked him. “And what possessed him to seek out your room at this ungodly hour?”

Lucerys shrugged, his frustration mounting as he began pacing, unable to stay still.

“Well, if we’re being honest, it’s more like he dragged me into a secluded corner and—”

“He what?” Aemond cut him off, his voice sharp.

“He dragged me into a secluded corner and—”

“What?” Aemond interrupted again, his tone incredulous.

Lucerys clenched his jaw, feeling his patience fraying. He resumed pacing, trying to get the words out.

“Keep up, Uncle. He dragged me into a secluded corner, and then... I bit into his hand. I feel bad about it, honestly, but I didn’t know who it was or who was pulling me away, and—”

“What?” Aemond squawked again, sounding more like an annoyed parrot than a man.

Lucerys stopped dead in his tracks, turning to face him, a frown plastered across his face.

“Why in the Seven Hells won’t you let me finish?”

Aemond’s gaze darkened immediately, the intensity of his violet eye practically burning with fury.

“I’ll kill him.”

Lucerys blinked in surprise. “What?”

Aemond’s voice was ice-cold. “He had no right to put his hands on you.”

For a moment, Lucerys could only stare at him, utterly shocked by the reaction.

He hadn’t expected such a vehement response, especially not from the uncle who didn’t care for him.

But despite himself, he felt... oddly comforted by it.

“Yes, but... killing him?” Lucerys attempted to deflect, trying to make light of the situation. “Isn’t that a bit excessive? Especially considering he’s on our side?”

Aemond hummed a low sound of displeasure, still clearly seething with barely contained anger.

“And how, exactly, is he on our side?” Aemond asked, his tone dripping with skepticism.

Lucerys took a deep breath, steadying himself as he spoke.

“Well, he told me he doesn’t want this betrothal.” He shifted slightly, his expression softening. “He’s desperate to be rid of it, but he doesn’t know how. He’s not the enemy here, uncle.”

Aemond’s anger ebbed a little, curiosity taking its place.

He stared at Lucerys for a long moment before speaking, his voice quieter now. “Is that so?”

Lucerys nodded, relieved that Aemond seemed to be considering it. “Yes. He just wants out, but he doesn’t know what to do about it.”

Aemond was silent for a few moments, clearly processing the information. Then, in his usual manner, he spoke again, his voice thoughtful.

“I suppose it stands to reason… he was the only one who didn’t all but hurl himself at me. Perhaps not all of Lord Borros’ brood are shamelessly amorous creatures.”

Lucerys blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the comment.

“What does that even—” He trailed off, quickly catching himself before he got lost in more confusion. Instead, he narrowed his eyes, leveling a challenge. “Wait... did you notice all of them flirting with you at dinner?”

Aemond froze, his expression unreadable for the briefest second before a smirk appeared on his lips.

“Of course, I noticed. Hard to miss it.” He shook his head, irritation flickering in his voice. “It bothered me, actually. They’re all so... forward.”

Lucerys couldn’t help but feel irritated by Aemond’s calm demeanor.

“Bothered you?” he asked, his voice sharp. “You looked like you were enjoying all the attention. Quite a bit of it, in fact.”

He had hated how Aemond casually accepted the drinks Maris or Cassandra offered him, how he ate whatever Edward placed before him without a hint of discomfort.

Aemond’s smirk didn’t waver.

“Unlike you, my Lord Strong, I do not wear my anger like a badge.” His tone was smooth, almost mocking. “We’re here under the guise of diplomacy—fraying tempers serve no one.”

As infuriating and frustrating as Aemond’s words were, Lucerys knew deep down that his uncle had a point.

“You’re right,” he admitted reluctantly.

Aemond’s violet eye gleamed with renewed interest.

“So, did my ‘betrothed’ give you any reason why he’s so desperate to be rid of me?”

Lucerys took a breath before continuing.

“He has his own dreams,” he explained. “Dreams that don’t involve marrying you or anyone else.”

Aemond’s expression faltered for just a moment, caught off guard by the revelation. “Oh?”

Lucerys pressed on. “He wants to be a warrior. He wants more from life than being sold off for an alliance or treated like some broodmare.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a slight smile, a glimmer of something like amusement or approval in his gaze.

“How unexpected,” he murmured. “I suppose I chose well, didn’t I?”

Lucerys rolled his eyes, unable to hold back his frustration.

“I refuse to validate your choices when I have to suffer through dinner with them.”

Aemond let out a quiet, amused chuckle, clearly enjoying Lucerys’ discomfort.

“The Baratheons really got under your skin, didn’t they?”

Lucerys bristled. “What?” He defensively straightened. “No, they didn’t. Why would they?”

Aemond raised an eyebrow, his smirk widening.

“Mm. Must’ve imagined you glaring at Florian like you wanted to throttle him.”

Lucerys pressed his lips together, stubbornly trying to maintain his composure.

“Yes, you must have imagined it. But that’s beside the point.”

Aemond didn’t look convinced, not in the slightest. “Whatever you say, nephew.”

The silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken thoughts. Lucerys knew this was his chance—he had to make sure Aemond understood the gravity of the situation.

Carefully, he began to speak again, his voice steady but laced with a hint of caution.

“We think…” he started, trying to sound composed, “that we might be able to break the betrothal if we offer Lord Borros something in return. He wants power, wealth—status. Florian thinks that’s all he really cares about.”

Aemond’s expression shifted, sobering once more.

“He wanted to tie himself to the royal family. That was the price for his banners. That match.”

Lucerys nodded. It was exactly as he’d expected. Lords always sought advantageous matches for their omegas—nothing out of the ordinary there.

“Then we give him something else of value,” Lucerys said quietly, his voice tinged with uncertainty. “But I didn’t want to make any decisions without you. It is your betrothal, after all.”

Aemond hummed thoughtfully, a sound that echoed in the still room. “Hmm.”

The minutes passed in silence, as Aemond mulled over their conversation, his mind clearly working through the possibilities.

Lucerys watched him, noting how his uncle rested his hand on his chin, lost in deep thought.

The way Aemond seemed so effortlessly commanding, even in moments of stillness, was oddly attractive.

Lucerys quickly forced himself to look away, pushing that thought out of his mind.

“You have an idea,” Lucerys said pointedly, not letting it go. “And you’re not telling me.”

Aemond’s lips curled into a knowing smile, and he looked at Lucerys, his violet eye gleaming. “Correct.”

Lucerys blinked, taken aback. “That’s it? Just ‘correct’?”

Aemond’s smile widened. “It’s a good idea. Possibly brilliant, even. Kills two birds with one stone.”

Lucerys raised an eyebrow, growing more frustrated by the second.

“And you won’t tell me because…?”

Aemond leaned back slightly, the playful glint in his eye never fading.

“Because I enjoy watching you scowl.”

Lucerys frowned, clearly, Aemond was enjoying this, playing with him.    

“If you must know, nephew,” Aemond began with that familiar, taunting edge, “I prefer not to discuss plans until they’re ready to be put into action. Secrecy has its advantages.”

“And you take great pleasure in vexing me,” Lucerys muttered, turning toward the door. “Remind me never to offer you help again.”

Aemond’s smirk was laced with amusement.

“Duly noted. Now come—let’s get you back to your chambers before another Baratheon with questionable restraint spirits you away.”

Lucerys couldn’t manage a response before Aemond started walking behind him.

**

He hadn’t expected Aemond to accompany him all the way, but Lucerys found, oddly enough, that he didn’t mind.

When they reached his door, Lucerys turned to face his uncle, who had followed him like an ever-present shadow.

“Well, this is me,” he said with a hint of dry humor. “You’ve fulfilled your chivalrous duties. Goodnight.”

However, just as Lucerys reached for the door handle, Aemond’s voice called out, sharp and commanding.

“Luke.”

The tone caught him off guard—it was far more serious than anything he’d heard from Aemond all evening.

Before he could respond, Aemond was upon him, closing the distance between them with an unsettling speed.

Lucerys found himself forced to step back as Aemond continued to advance, not stopping until his back met the door with a soft thud.

Aemond placed a hand flat beside Lucerys' head, trapping him against the door, the proximity making the air feel thick, almost suffocating.

Lucerys’ breath hitched, his pulse quickening.

What was happening?

However, Aemond merely lowered his head, closing the gap between them so their eyes met directly, their faces inches apart.

"You really shouldn’t be wandering around like this, Luke," Aemond murmured, his voice low, almost teasing, but with something darker beneath the surface. "An omega... slipping through the halls after dark. It would be so easy for someone to take advantage."

Lucerys held his ground, his breath catching but refusing to show any weakness. "You wouldn’t do that."

Aemond’s lips curled into a slight, knowing smile. "That’s your first mistake," he replied, stepping even closer, the proximity making Lucerys’ heart race.

He clenched his fists, his pulse quickening.

"Even the ones who seem composed," Aemond continued, his tone softening just slightly, "the ones who wear restraint like armor… aren’t above their instincts. You put yourself in a very vulnerable position tonight."

Lucerys fought to keep his voice steady, though the words felt strained. "So what, you’re trying to scare me?"

"No," Aemond parried smoothly, his gaze unwavering. "I’m trying to teach you." He leaned in just enough for Lucerys to feel his breath against his skin. "You’re lucky it’s me... not someone else. Not every man would let someone like you leave."

Lucerys blinked, thrown off balance. "Someone like me?"

Aemond's smirk deepened. "Soft-voiced. Wide-eyed. Pretty without knowing it."

Lucerys felt his heart flutter for reasons he couldn’t understand. "I—I’m not—"

"Naïve," Aemond interrupted with a sharp, infuriating smirk. "And that’s the most dangerous part."

Lucerys gaped, trying to collect himself, but before he could find his words, Aemond stepped back, effortlessly opening the door behind him.

"Make sure you lock it."

As Aemond turned to leave, Lucerys finally allowed himself to breathe again, though the air still felt thick with tension.

"I hope your idea is as brilliant as you claim, uncle," he called out, his voice steady but with a hint of frustration he couldn’t quite suppress.

Aemond didn’t stop walking, didn’t even glance back. He simply threw a casual farewell over his shoulder. "Sweet dreams, nephew."

Lucerys did as Aemond asked, and obediently locked the door behind him.

Then, with all the grace of a man who’d just narrowly escaped his uncle’s personal brand of chaos, he flung himself onto the bed and screamed into his pillow.

Chapter Text

Aemond knew he would have to navigate the morning’s conversation with Lord Borros with precision.

A considerable part of him—indeed, the majority—was seething with quiet fury.

The danger Lucerys had been subjected to the night prior gnawed at him like a thorn in his side.

True, Florian had proven harmless in the end, but the situation could just as easily have involved another alpha with far darker intentions—or worse, one of Borros’ other ill-bred progeny with no scruples about harming a prince of royal blood.

What kind of husband—what kind of alpha—would he be if he could not shield Lucerys when the moment demanded it?

Still, as he sat that morning in the solar, tea steaming gently between them, he forced the anger down, tucking it behind a mask of composed diplomacy.

Rage would serve no purpose here. If he meant to extricate himself from this wretched betrothal, he would need a cooler blade than wrath.

So, he watched in silence as Lord Borros poured the tea with ponderous self-importance.

“You take honey with your tea, Prince Aemond?” the lord asked, his tone bordering on mocking. “Or are you one of those sour sorts who prefers it bitter?”

Aemond met the jibe with an unreadable smile.

“That depends on the company, my lord,” he replied smoothly. “But today, I believe I’ll take honey.”

Borros handed him the cup with a grunt of amusement and leaned back in his chair like a man who thought the game already won.

“A wise answer,” he said, smirking. “They say you Hightowers have a talent for twisting words around the wind. Your mother wasn’t a fool.”

Aemond took a slow sip, letting the tea settle before replying.

“Nor is your son,” he said at last, “as I’ve come to discover.”

“Florian?” Borros raised a brow, then gave a derisive chuckle. “Hah. That boy’s got a head full of clouds and foolish dreams. A good lad, sure enough. Quiet now, at least. The silks suit him.”

It took every ounce of control not to react.

The more Borros spoke, the more Aemond understood why Florian had looked so defeated.

Still, he bit down the bile and answered coolly.

“I wonder, my lord,” he said with deliberate calm, “whether it’s the silks that suit him… or merely the role he’s been forced to play.”

Borros’ eyes sharpened at the implication.

“Careful now, boy,” he said, voice low with warning. “That sounds an awful lot like a man criticizing how I raise my own.”

Aemond itched to reach across the table, to bloody his knuckles on the man’s face—but instead, he let the moment pass.

Measured restraint would win more than violence ever could.

“Forgive me,” he murmured. “I speak only as one who… empathizes. With being shaped into something one never asked to become.”

Borros looked entirely unbothered by the sentiment, as if the very subject was beneath consideration.

“Florian’s a Baratheon,” he said gruffly. “That name carries weight—and expectations. The boy didn’t know what he wanted. He wept when I took his sword and gave him a needle, but look at him now. Quiet. Obedient. The picture of what an omega should be.”

Before Aemond could offer the polite retort forming on his tongue—about how dead Borros’ son looked in the role forced upon him—the lord barreled on.

“An omega’s worth is in his womb, not his will,” Borros said with unshakable certainty. “The gods didn’t make them to bear swords, but sons.”

Aemond’s voice turned to ice.

“Then perhaps the gods should’ve made their designs clearer,” he replied smoothly. “I’ve met omegas with fire enough to burn those words to ash.”

“Fire’s no good if it burns the cradle,” Borros grunted. “My boy’s a fine omega—trained to sew, sing, and smile. What more could you possibly want in a mate, my prince?”

Aemond took another measured sip of tea, using the warmth to temper his rising disgust.

“A partner,” he said flatly. “Not a prisoner.”

Borros sneered, unimpressed.

“Partner,” he repeated, as though the word were a vulgarity. “That what the poets are calling it now? I liked it better when Targaryens knew their duty. When they respected what was promised.”

The brute leaned forward, his posture stiffening with something meant to resemble gravitas.

“I bent the knee to your queen, aye. But don’t mistake that for forgetfulness. I pledged my banners to the king your brother disinherited. This match was earned. Blood for blood. House for house.”

Aemond didn’t rise to the bait. That would’ve been a mistake.

“And yet,” he said calmly, “the match is unwanted. Not only by myself.”

Borros scoffed. “Unwanted? Or inconvenient?”

The tension in the solar was thick enough to drown in, but Aemond remained steady.

“I haven’t come to offend you, my lord,” he said clearly. “Only to ask—truly—what benefit does this betrothal offer now? When it binds two unwilling hearts… and angers the queen you swore to serve.”

Borros shook his head, unmoved.

“You speak like a bard, Prince Aemond. I’ve no patience for riddles before breakfast. You want out of our pact? Then you’ll need more than honeyed words. You’ll need to make me want to let go.”

He bit into a scone with the refinement of a boar, crumbs catching in his beard.

Aemond smirked. Finally, the beast had wandered into the snare he’d laid.

“Then perhaps it’s a blessing I’ve brought the right incentive.”

Borros’ brows rose, intrigued in spite of himself.

“I’ve come with a proposal,” Aemond said, setting his cup down with deliberate grace, “that I believe your house will find… worthy.”

The lord squinted, suspicious. “You think there’s better than a match to a Targaryen prince?”

Aemond didn’t hesitate.

“In the short term? Perhaps not. But in the long term?” He let the pause stretch, let the weight of the moment settle. “Influence at court. Proximity to the queen. Access to Driftmark. Opportunities that extend well beyond a single, reluctant betrothal.”

That caught Borros’ attention. He crossed his arms and leaned back, curiosity blooming through his skepticism.

“Speak plainly, boy.”

He leaned back, the edge of a smile curving his lips as he laid out the bait.

“I propose that Florian accompany me to King’s Landing,” Aemond said smoothly. “He will serve as an omega-in-waiting to my lady mother. The Red Keep is ever eager for noble company—and the Queen values loyalty, especially in these days.”

As Lucerys had told him the night before, they needed something better than a broken betrothal.

This was it.

Borros squinted, clearly trying to read between the lines.

“Florian? In the Red Keep?”

Aemond nodded, his gaze steady.

“The blood of the dragon runs thick at court, my lord. The Queen has unwed sons. The princes have daughters. All with sharp eyes and sharper ambitions. If Florian were to make a favorable impression, well… stranger blossoms have bloomed in the gardens of the Red Keep.”

He didn’t need to name them. The implication was clear.

Baela, Daeron, even certain lesser royals and powerful lords. The implication hung in the air like perfume.

“If Florian is half as accomplished as you claim, my lord, I daresay he’ll find himself… admired.” His smirk widened, subtle and calculated. “The court is never lacking in highborn alphas with wandering eyes and unclaimed fingers.”

Borros was silent for a long moment, his meaty fingers drumming against the table as his mind raced.

Aemond knew that look—he was measuring the offer against the cost.

Time for the final push.

“If he conducts himself well, who knows what doors might open?” Aemond said with a shrug. “And not just for him. House Baratheon has other children, does it not?”

Borros grunted like the thought irritated him.

“One son. Two daughters. Not counting Florian. A whole bloody flock of mouths.”

Aemond tilted his head, voice calm and coaxing.

“Then perhaps the Queen might find places for them as well. She is always in need of trustworthy company—omegas of noble stock who can serve as companions, confidants… and more.”

He could see it now—the shift in Borros’ eyes. Greed, ambition, and the tantalizing promise of legacy. But still, the old oaf was cautious.

“And what do you gain from this?”

“Freedom,” Aemond answered plainly. “From a match neither of us desires. And peace with a proud house, bound to the throne in a way that honors both sides.”

Silence fell like a blade. Borros chewed the idea over like tough meat, jaw working as his gaze drifted to the window, lost in his own calculations.

At last, he grunted, scratching at his beard.

“You’re clever, boy. Too clever by half,” he said. “But I won’t stand in the way of my children’s advancement. If Florian returns with royal favor—and the others get court appointments—well, that’s more than I’d get from some cold marriage bed.”

He looked Aemond in the eye, all bluster and warning.

“Fine. Take the lad. But if he comes back weeping, I’ll send him straight back in a wedding cloak.”

Aemond allowed himself the smallest, most unnoticeable breath of relief.

Victory. Hard-won and clean.

He reached for a scone with the poise of a man who had just won a battle without drawing a sword, and smiled.

“I’ll ensure he thrives, my lord.

Chapter Text

Hi lovely readers, thank you so much for continuing to read this absolute beast of a fic.

So… confession time. This story was supposed to be short. Just a little something. A break. A palate cleanser. And then I blinked, and now I’m deep in a narrative swamp with plot threads around my ankles and about six ships on my back.

Not side ships. Real ones. Fully-developed, emotionally chaotic, with character studies and each on their own journey to a happy ending.

Recently, I sat down and tried to map out the overall storyline — just to get a sense of structure. And, uh... that’s when I realized just how big this fic is actually going to be. Like, absurdly big. Monster fic territory. So now I’m here, blinking into the abyss, trying to figure out how I ended up plotting six full romantic arcs like it was nothing.

Updates have been slower, not because I’m out of ideas, but because I’ve been trying to shape everything into something coherent. ADHD makes me bounce between ideas constantly, and there’s just so much I want to explore. Writing is my therapy, and this fic has become my emotional playground, even if it sometimes eats me alive.

That said, I’m truly having the best time. Most of you know me for Lucemond (my forever muse), but here I get to dip my toes into other House of the Dragon ships too — and it’s been such a refreshing, creatively energizing experience.

So… I want to ask: how do you feel about really long fics? Would it put you off If I were to say that this is a logn fic? that it will probably be the longest I write?

I know people were really supportive when I said the same for another story (Bastard in chains) and most people chose the longer route, and I really wanna know if that is the case here too.

Thanks again for sticking with me and this chaotic little monster. I promise I’m giving it all the love it deserves, and I’m so grateful you’re here for the ride.

With love and a mildly overwhelmed heart,

Neliel135