paint me in your colours

Posted originally on the Archive of Our Own at http://archiveofourown.org/works/42902043.

Rating: Explicit
Archive Warning: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Category: M/M
Fandom: House of the Dragon (TV), A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Relationship: Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen/Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)
Character: Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen, Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra)
Additional Tags: Everyone is Dead, Post-The Dance of the Dragons | Aegon II
Targaryen v. Rhaenyra Targaryen Era, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics,
Mpreg, Hate to Love, Arranged Marriage, Unhealthy Coping
Mechanisms, Angst with a Happy Ending, Alpha Aemond "One-Eye"
Targaryen, Omega Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Aemond
"One-Eye" Targaryen is Bad at Feelings, Angst and Hurt/Comfort,
Manipulative Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Enemies to Lovers,
BAMF Lucerys Velaryon (Son of Rhaenyra), Hate Sex, Mating Cycles/In
Heat, Mutual Pining, Childbirth, Unreliable Narrator, Intersex Omegas,
King Aemond "One-Eye" Targaryen
Language: English
Collections: LucemondM10, HODnaik926
Stats: Published: 2022-11-06 Updated: 2023-08-11 Words: 55,096 Chapters:
19/?

paint me in your colours

by moonlust

Summary

"You will perform your duty. I am expecting you to attend to my heat this moon. I will have
my heir, a child born of you and me."

The war has ended, with only Aemond and Lucerys left. To appease the opposing factions,
they are made to marry, but the lack of an heir after a year of marriage has become a
pressing issue.
 king
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Aemond never thought he would be king. His birth was surrounded by obscurity despite his
attempts to be the best at his craft, often overlooked by his father, the late king. No matter how
swift he was with the sword or well versed in the histories he was, his father only saw Rhaenyra.
The Realms Delight. The condolence of being an alpha son meant nothing to his father.

His mother tried, she really did. She loved him to the best of her ability, taking care of his wounds
and kissing the scar on his eye before bed. But she still chose to betroth Helaena to Aegon, despite
his proclivities, and his taste for lustful sin, deeming Aemond as a second son. Disposable.

Losing his eye was a wake-up call for him, one that allowed him to truly see the lack of care his
father had for him. It made him burn with a vengeance for the other side of his family, for
Rhaenyra, his half-sister who wanted him ‘Sharply questioned’ despite his bleeding eye, but most
of all for Lucerys, the innocent doe-eyed bastard boy, who in everyone’s eyes could do no wrong.

A laughable irony, given the fact that only Lucerys was here with him now.

The gathering of the small council was, as he was told, an urgent one. Well, it had better be an
important one. Aemond felt vestiges of his patience slipping away, as he sat at the foot of the table,
listening to the advisers prattle on about the shipping lanes as well as war reparations for the small
folk.

Lucerys sat next to him, the bastard boy fiddling with his thumbs nervously as he and Aemond
avoided eye contact. Despite the burning hatred he felt for the strong bastard, Aemond was not
blind. He had bloomed in the past years, his dark locks framing his face artfully, with big brown
eyes he could drown in. The boy had grown into his omega traits beautifully, much to his chagrin.

Aemond slammed his hand on the table, causing his council to startle, as they stared at him in
barely concealed fear. “I hope, my dear councilmen, that the talk of war reparations are not why
you summoned me and the Queen here today.” Aemond stormily bit out.

“Indeed, your Majesty. You see, the realm, despite the war having ended, is now in a precarious
state.” The idiot golden-haired lion lord, Loreon Lannister stated with a shake in his voice.
“Why are you making such claims, Lannister? How dare you question my rule. We have done
everything, from making reparation arrangements with the smallfolk and great houses alike. The
price of goods are also not facing any kind of surge.” Aemond replied, reaching for his eyepatch,
wanting to remove it to show the foolish council that he was not to be trifled with. He was not to be
questioned as a ruler. He wanted to see the fear in their eyes as they gazed upon his mutilated face.

“My King, let us listen to what he has to say first.” A stern voice came from his side, from Lucerys.
The boy had been a thorn in his side for the past year, always seeming to be distrustful of
Aemond’s decisions, choosing to always listen to the council before they collectively passed a
decision. This irritated Aemond to no end. What was the point of being king when even small
decisions like how much the crown should give to the Riverlands in reparations were something to
be discussed and debated upon for moons?

“Thank you, my Queen. Your wisdom and patience are always appreciated by us at the small
council.” Lord Lannister said slimily. Aemond wanted to strangle him, wanted to feel his throat
close around his hands. War had hardened him and had satiated his bloodlust for the time being,
but the thought of smashing Lannister’s head onto his emerald ball placed on the table was a
tempting one.

“Your Majesty, despite war reparations going underway smoothly, there is a pressing issue we
have to address. The line of the House Targaryen has yet to be secured, despite yourself and the
Queen having been married for a year or so. Lords from neighbouring continents are concerned
that the House of the Dragon might face a similar succession crisis as it did before.” Lannister said
quickly, avoiding the gazes of both Aemond and Lucerys as he did so.

Anger coursed through Aemond’s blood as he grabbed Loreans’s collar, “To what extent are these
rumours that the affairs of my union with the Queen are being questioned? I-” His hand was
immediately pulled back by Lucerys, who glared at him in unconcealed anger.

“Lord Lannister, thank you for informing us of these concerns. We would seek to remedy this
immediately, for the good of the realm.” Lucerys said calmly, as he proceeded to dismiss the small
council for the day, leaving himself and a fuming Aemond alone in the Council room.

Fury was starting to curdle in Aemond’s gut, as he growled out angrily at Lucerys, wanting to
scream, wanting to punch something, anything. The bastard had really just complicated the entire
situation. Aemond was no fool. He had wracked his brains for ideas on how the realm could be
secured, given that he and Lucerys were unlikely to have heirs, as they were unlikely to ever
consummate their marriage.

How could he ever bear to touch the boy? The boy who took his eye, the boy whose family had
caused the ruin of his.
 He had sent informants to investigate Flea bottom, and had managed to find a bastard of Aegon,
who when the time was right, would be legitimised to ascend the throne. With his words, Lucerys
had thrown all his carefully crafted plans down the drain.

Lucerys stared at him unflinchingly, unafraid, and instead met Aemond’s towering rage with a
childlike smirk, the mating mark that Aemond gave him on their wedding night flashing on his
throat.

“Uncle, did you really think I would allow Aegon’s son to ever ascend the throne? Pretty
hypocritical if you ask me, given your hatred of the bastard lot. The man was a drunkard and a
cripple, a pathetic excuse of a king, whose rabid, sorry excuse of a dragon ate both my mother and
two younger brothers.”

Shock rippled through Aemond as he gawked at Lucerys, unable to hide the breakdown he was
having internally. How did the bastard even find out about his plans? He had planned to wait for
two decades or so, or for as long as it took for Lucerys to have his last heat, before he would
legitimise Aegon’s bastard, stating the Queen’s infertility as the reason to do so.

“I have my eyes in the castle, husband. But matters not how I found out about your devious plans.
You will perform your duty. I am expecting you to attend to my heat this moon. I will have my
heir, a child born of you and me.” Lucerys whispered menacingly in his ear before he sauntered out
of the room, leaving behind an incensed Aemond and the lingering smell of sea salt.

Chapter End Notes

Hope you enjoyed this little one-shot! Let me know if I should continue this or if you
liked the chapter :) Just wanted to write a bit of a more angsty post-war Lucemond.
Hope you enjoyed it <3
 queen
Chapter Summary

“You must think me a fool, bastard. I would not be attending to your heat. This matter
is not up for discussion. Now leave me.”

Giggles then started to echo through the dungeons, as Aemond looked in

bewilderment and anger as Lucerys started to grab his stomach, gasping in laughter
with each breath.

Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

His coronation was a small one, with none of the grandiosity of his late brother’s.

They had opted for a simple ceremony in the Great Hall, where banners of Targaryen red hung on
the walls, unlike the deep green he was used to. He remembered Lucerys’s red-rimmed eyes
staring into his soul, as the crown was placed on his head, with the sound of a lone trumpet playing
in the background.

Those very eyes shed tears later in the day when their marriage ceremony took place.

Both King and Queen had no one to give them away at the altar. They were joined in matrimony
surrounded by vultures, with none of their family present.

The very notion that this boy, this small omega, who shrunk into himself, crying when the Septon
made them kiss at the altar, had become this cunning creature, had all but sent Aemond’s head
reeling.

He had underestimated the bastard. Aemond thought that as long as he gave Lucerys the illusion
that he was in charge, he would still have been able to pull his own strings behind the scenes, but
his husband had beaten him to it.

Aemond fell into a fitful slumber that night, his dreams filled with images of his late family, as he
dreamt about seeing them again.
-

A fortnight had passed since Lucerys had made his declaration during the Small Council’s
gathering. A small part of Aemond was hoping that by some chance of luck the talk of heirs would
have slipped the boy’s mind.

He was still trying to locate Aegon’s bastard, who seemed to have disturbingly vanished from the
location Aemond’s guards would usually find him. Only sleepless nights followed for him after
this revelation.

His desire to avoid Lucerys as much as he could, however, was not going in his favour.

Council meetings were getting more frequent, with the insufficient compensation to the people of
the Riverlands being brought up yet again, albeit with none of the lords being able to look Aemond
in the eye when the issue was raised.

Lucerys, on the other hand, was never able to keep his insolent mouth shut on the matter.

“I have visited the people in the Riverlands, my Lords, they are still suffering so.”

“Their crops are all but gone, their soil barren. The crown needs to pay for these crimes.”

“The people have had many loved ones taken, torched by the flames of a berserker’s dragon. What
do you think we should do about this, my King?”

He said all of this with a sorrowful sigh, hands wiping his eyes, as if he couldn’t help but tear up at
the very thought.

Aemond felt his fingers curl under the table, the urge to strangle his husband strong, as he gritted
his teeth. If a mere lord displayed such blatant disrespect, Aemond would have had his tongue cut
out, or perhaps would have even taken his head.

But this was his Queen, and the display of violence towards one's spouse, especially one where the
balance of the realm hung on their union, was not a wise one. Aemond might have been
bloodthirsty, but he was no fool.

The very thought of the strong bastard having an upper hand on him made his blood boil with an
uncontained fury, as he commanded the guards to whip the suspects harder. He had chosen not to
wear his eyepatch, wanting to instil in the suspects the fear that his sapphire eye invoked, wanting
to draw out the rat who was giving information to his husband, information about Aegon’s bastard.

“I commend your effort, husband. However, just know that my source does not come from within
the castle.” an amused voice from behind him sounded, as the guards stopped their whippings to
bow to their Queen.

Aemond wanted to tear the smirk off his face, as he ordered the guards to take the suspects and
leave them. He let out a grunt of annoyance as he turned to Lucerys, unable to hide the murderous
expression now gracing his face.

Instead of cowering in response to his anger, Lucerys instead regarded him with a gleeful smile.

“My King, I have wonderful news to share. Upon consultation with the Maester, he has informed
me that my heat would be arriving within the next few days. He also stated that as we are still
young and highly fertile, conception should occur quickly enough. Is this not lovely news,
husband?”

Aemond was at his boiling point. His hands curled at his sides in anger, vibrating with barely
restrained rage as he glared Lucerys down, ignoring the curl of desire in his stomach when his
traitorous mind conjured images of his nephew begging and wanton in heat.

“You must think me a fool, bastard. I would not be attending to your heat. This matter is not up for
discussion. Now leave me.”

Giggles then started to echo through the dungeons, as Aemond looked in bewilderment and anger
as Lucerys started to grab his stomach, gasping in laughter with each breath.

“Uncle, I know where Aegon’s bastard is. In fact, I have him right where I want him. So if you
don’t want the last remnants of your dead brother to, how should I put it, be disappeared forever, I
 strongly urge you to take back your last statement.”

The familiar bloodlust was now clouding Aemond’s mind, as he slammed Lucerys against the
wall, the boy laughing manically as his body met the cold concrete.

His sanity was quickly escaping him, as he felt all his plans unravelling to the ground. The
bastard’s wicked scent was now permeating the room, clouding his mind. The scent of an omega
nearing his heat, the scent of the sea.

Aemond felt like a drowning man. He had never felt so utterly helpless before, not during the war,
not even when his family members left the world of the living one after the other.

The only time he felt so small was when the same boy laughing at him now took his eye that fated
night.

“You wouldn’t dare.” He said snarled, unable to hide the shaking in his hands, the trembling of his
heart, as he felt small warm hands move up to caress his cheek.

“It’s time to perform your duty to your Queen, my King.” Lucerys leered at him, hands softly
cupping his face, in the most innocent of taunts, before he pushed him away.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos :') I'm not sure how long this fic is
going to be, but I'm in for the ride!

Aemond's face whenever reparations for the Riverlands are mentioned: ◕_◕

I'm sure ya'll know what's to come in the next chapter haha

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed it, they make my day <3

 duty
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The quick-footed Maester had summoned him urgently to the Queen’s chambers, worry evident in
the wavering of his voice, as if he was expecting Aemond to fly into a feral rage at any moment.

Aemond did no such thing, and, instead, with bated breath, allowed himself to be escorted to
Lucerys’s chambers.

Despite his indifference to death, having seen an abundance of it during the war, he did not wish to
see the end of another of his family members, bastard or not. The scheming of his innocent-eyed
nephew had him cornered like a wild animal. Trapped him in ways none had done before.

Surely Lucerys did not have it in him to put Aegon’s bastard to the sword. However, after seeing
the crazed glint his eyes flickered with when he laughed in his face, Aemond was not so sure.

He had prayed the following nights after a wild-eyed Lucerys confronted him in the dungeon.
Prayed to the gods his late mother so revered. Kneeling in the Sept surrounded by the golden glow
of a thousand candles, hoping for a sign, pleading for an answer.

None came. All that clouded his mind were glimpses of dark chestnut hair, sneering lips on the
most luscious of pouts and the ghost of the smell of the sea.

The guards bowed to him as he reached the front of the boy’s chambers, moving aside for their
incoming King.

Aemond took a deep breath, ignoring the lump in his throat and the anxious curl in his stomach as
he opened the heavy doors.

The heady smell of the sea surrounded him, almost making him keel over in shock as he stalked
toward the massive bed, draped in ruby-red linens, the colour of blood.
Heart pounding in his chest, so loud that he could feel it ringing in his ears, Aemond stalked closer
to the bed.

What awaited him was the image of Lucerys, his husband, the bastard. Dressed in Aemond’s
nightshirt, keening in frustration as he pleasured himself with his fingers. His brown locks matted
to his forehead with an unusual flush on his cheeks as he rode his fingers in frustration.

Aemond gulped, unable to breathe as he doubled over, his body trembling as he took in the image
of his bonded, fighting to keep his hands, his body, from moving forward. His heart raced, and his
mind buzzed, as he forced himself to think back to the time a young curly-haired bastard gouged
out his eye. Trying to reconcile the image he had in front of him with the one from his past.

“Aemond. Alpha, please.” his head shot up as Lucerys called for him with a watery cry, and when
his eyes met dark brown ones, hooded and pooling with unheeded lust, he felt every strand of
restraint he had left being pulled, snapping at the seams.

Aemond pounced on the boy in a split second, one hand winding in his hair while the other moved
under his nightshirt, slapping his fingers away and replacing them with his own. He could hear
Lucerys’s quickened breath as he curled his finger into his tight awaiting heat, the smell of the sea,
of his scent now all-encompassing, caressing him like a lover.

The boy was tight, too tight. His throbbing heat squeezed Aemond like a vice as he crooked his
fingers within him, eliciting a desperate moan from his bonded, as Lucerys’s small body shuddered
under his ministrations.

“Has anyone touched you here before, nephew?” Aemond whispered in his ear, unable to help
himself. Thoughts of others seeing his bastard nephew in such a lascivious state had his alpha
going wild with unconstrained fury.

“No, uncle, I have been saving my maidenhead for my betrothed. Unlike you, who I’m sure has
visited plenty of whorehouses as of late.” Lucerys panted out, looking like the very vision of sin
against the red sheets, as Aemond inserted another finger into his dripping cunt, muscles
tightening.

The wrongful accusation set Aemond off, enflaming his body, and his mind. The bastard dared to
question his loyalty to their union, to the crown.
Despite the all-knowing hatred he had for Lucerys, he was a man of his word. This was something
no one could question Aemond with, something he prided himself in. He was loyal to his family, to
his unfit drunkard brother to the bitter end, no matter how incapable the man was. He was loyal to
his loveless marriage, where they said their vows in front of the Grand Septon.

Removing his one hand from Lucerys’s chocolate locks, he gripped the boy’s throat while
continuing to ram into him with the brutal pace of his fingers, squeezing tightly as he growled out
in anger.

“Ever since this cursed union, bastard, I have not visited any whorehouses. I would not have my
loyalty questioned by a base-born like yourself.”

He expected an apology, he expected Lucerys to scream and gasp in fear as he cried out in
repentance.

The alluring, insolent thing instead let out a choked-out moan of desire, his eyes gleaming, lips
curling into his signature smirk.

“Harder, Alpha. The Queen demands it.”

Aemond felt the last vestiges of his sanity snap, as he removed his hands from his writhing
nephew’s throat and made quick work of his clothes, releasing his cock, which was now an angry
red, slapping against his stomach.

His alpha was howling now, threatening to rip through his skin, not satisfied until he and Lucerys
were joined.

He had never felt such an all-consuming need before like he needed to possess this boy, lest he died
from the ravenous lust that was building in his chest.

Aemond couldn't help but watch Lucerys as his nephew whimpered prettily with his lips parted,
longing eyes trained on his cock as he placed it in between his wet folds. The aroma of the sea was
now tinged with saltwater, drowning him in its depths.
As if sensing his uncle’s hesitation, Lucerys wrapped his legs around him and started to rut against
the alpha, sobbing loudly as the tip of Aemond’s cock caught onto his awaiting heat.

Thoughts of being inside Lucerys were now driving Aemond mad with lust, he hadn't even entered
the boy yet, and yet this was the most intense foreplay he had ever experienced in his life. No
whores that his brother brought him to at the street of silk ever made him feel this way, like his
soul was on fire.

They paled in comparison to his nephew, panting prettily on the sheets, hungering for his cock.

He and Lucerys stared at each other, panting in unison as his engorged tip entered his dripping
cunt, Lucerys crying out in pain and arousal, gripping Aemond’s forearms as he began moving
deeper.

Aemond watched in contentment as his cock entered Lucerys; his nephew now biting his lips,
holding back his sweet moans as his heat stretched to accommodate his length.

Lucerys was tight, painfully and wonderfully so, as a shuddering Aemond had to take several
anguished breaths to contain himself, to prevent himself from spearing into him.

“So fucking tight,” Aemond groaned in pleasure as he bottomed out in his omega. Lucerys’s small
cock twitched against his stomach as he started to thrust shallowly into the now whining omega.

“Harder, my King, faster.”

Aemond then lifted Lucerys’s leg as he started to ram into him wildly, his grip on the bastard’s
thighs bruising. It was like he was a man starving, who couldn’t get enough of the feast laid out in
front of him. Aemond just couldn't control himself as he pounded into his wailing nephew,
savouring the way his body arched with each of his thrusts.

“Aemond…I’m going to cum soon.” Lucerys breathed through with hooded eyes, as the bed started
to shake with the intensity of his thrusts.

Letting out a growl at the lewd sounds Lucerys was making, Aemond pistoned faster into his
omega, groaning as he felt his knot forming.
“Be still,” he whispered in Lucerys ear, smoothing over his heated skin with his hands as he
clamped down on his thighs and thrust deep into him, knotting his omega with a shout, vision
blacking out, as he bit heatedly into Lucerys’s mating mark.

Lucerys then let out a scream as the knot forced out his orgasm, his tiny cock spurting on
Aemond’s stomach, as his cunt tightened around his alpha, keeping him locked within him,
milking every last drop of seed.

Aemond had never come this much before; it felt like streams of it, all in Lucerys’s wet heat, as he
watched in morbid fascination as some of it overflowed from his cunt.

The awkward silence that ensued during the knotting aftermath was pure torture. A flushed
Lucerys had resentment flashing in his eyes as the two continued to be joined together, Aemond’s
knot still locked within him.

For once, the boy was silent, not one testy remark coming out from those succulent lips.

Blood now tainted the sheets, the aftermath of their coupling. Proof of the last remnants of
Lucerys’s innocence being taken. Proof of Aemond having performed said duty. Doing what was
demanded of him. What was expected of him.

As he always did.

Aemond could feel himself spiralling from the experience. He hated the bastard. Still did. Sharing
a heat did not take away years worth of hatred, did not take away the fact that the boy’s family
caused the ruin of his, caused him to be maimed forever.

Much to Aemond’s dismay, this was the best he had ever felt during intercourse, and he wasn’t
even in rut. That wasn’t due for the next few moons.

The bastard had him enraptured. The arch of his back, the sound of his little breathy moans, the
way his tight cunt latched onto Aemond’s cock, those scenes replayed in his head. Memories of
 their coupling.

He felt the small hands come up to his face cradling him, fingers circling around his sapphire eye
like a taunt. As if he wanted to gouge out his other eye as well.

“You truly are a whore uncle. After all those words you gave in so easily.”

Lucerys grinned, all teeth, seemingly out of his post-orgasmic haze.

Aemond should have killed him before, should have squeezed harder around his throat, to see
Lucerys’s stained blood seep onto his hands. His hands shook at his sides, itching to close around
the bastard’s slim neck.

He was brought out of his inner conflict however, when Lucerys’s scent started to spike again, the
next wave of his filthy omega’s heat seemed to have arrived.

A surge of lightheadedness then enveloped him, as he felt the blood rushing through his head, his
body filled with a sudden influx of unimaginable lust, unimaginable need.

He then looked upon the boy, who was breathing in Aemond’s scent like he was a man dying,
looking horrified, aroused and vindictive as he did so.

“Well, Uncle, it seems that I will definitely be getting my heir after this.”

Aemond was in rut.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all once again for the lovely comments and kudos :')

Aemond's face when Lucerys called him a whore（◕_ ️）凸

Aemond is gonna be SHAKING in the next chapter!

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed it, they make my day!

 heir
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“You are such a slut aren’t you, arching so prettily for me” Aemond grunted as he continued to ram
into Lucerys from behind, the debauched bastard curving beautifully for him, as he pressed his
hands onto the dimples on his back.

An overstimulated Lucerys sobbed as Aemond made an especially arduous thrust into his already
sensitive heat, igniting a feeling of desire within Aemond as he pulled harshly onto Lucerys’s
chocolate locks as he met his omega’s lips in a ravenous kiss.

Lucerys mewled eagerly as Aemond’s tongue entered his hot cavern, as they continued to kiss
furiously, lapping into each other’s mouths.

Aemond wasn’t supposed to kiss him. However, in the days they spent tangled up with each other
in Lucerys’s chambers, his inhibitions had gotten the best of him.

It occurred during a particularly intense round where he had awoken to his whore of a nephew
riding his cock, his supple body bouncing on top of his, his mouth loling open as he took from
Aemond what he needed. As the two stared at each other, Lucerys’s face blushing a pretty red as he
continued to shamelessly ride him. The kiss just happened.

Who made the first move, Aemond would never know, as he ended up spilling deep into his
nephew, knotting his already abused cunt for the countless time as they kissed messily, with his
arms curled around Lucerys’s lithe waist. The bastard followed shortly after as Aemond continued
to fuck his knot into him, as he came with a soft whine, muffling his voice with the sheets below
them.

As the pair breathed heavily, recovering from their shared orgasm as Aemond waited for his knot
to deflate. Lucerys seemed to have already fallen into slumber, his heat seemingly quelled, for the
time being, the omega letting out small breaths of satisfaction in his sleep.

The past few days spent in his rut with Lucerys had been one of the most overwhelming
experiences the alpha had ever had.

Aemond had never been a fan of kissing. He never kissed the whores he shared his rut with
formerly. His last kiss had been one with his former betrothed, Maris Baratheon, the plain-featured
omega girl from Storms End.

Even that was a chaste one, ending with the brief meeting of their lips.

His nephew had him ruined. Despite the bastard’s obvious inexperience, sparks flew down
Aemond’s spine when they kissed, when the always combative omega allowed his mouth to be
subject to his ministrations. After the first kiss, it was like Aemond couldn’t stop chasing Lucerys’s
luscious lips, craving for more than a taste, more than a peck.

The bastard was demanding and complaintive, waking Aemond from his slumber when he wanted
a knot, when he wanted kisses, but snarling angrily at him in annoyance when the alpha’s rut was
in full force, not wanting to give in, not wanting to submit.

They had fucked on the edge of the vanity table, with Aemond throwing off all of Lucerys’s
mirrors and powders during a rut fuelled tussle. There was powder on Lucerys’s ass, with
Aemond’s handprint displayed in a harsh red on his hip. He could hardly even recall how they had
gotten into such a situation, only remembered Lucerys taking his cock with muffled squeals as
Aemond stuffed his fingers into his mouth.

They had even copulated in the bath chamber. Lucerys, needy with the effects of his heat, had
come onto a freshly bathed Aemond. It didn’t take long for their hands to wander, as he slammed a
whining Lucerys into the cold bath walls, as he lifted his thighs to piston into him, fucking him
against the wall without abandon. Lucerys sobbed as his arms trembled on his shoulders. The
omega had come especially quickly then, his cunt tightening around Aemond’s cock like a vice as
he milked the alpha for all the come he was worth.

Aemond felt his cock stirring yet again as his mind flashed back to memories of their fresh
couplings.

The whiny bastard’s bedchambers were in disarray, with blankets and pillows strewn all over the
room, with their sheets laden with slick and cum. Aemond had attempted to call for one of the
maids to clean the room on one particular day, but to no avail.

Upon smelling a foreign omega’s scent, Lucerys had flown into a rage.

The insolent bastard had all but sent the frightened omega maid away and pushed snarling Aemond
onto the floor. He then proceeded to straddle his hips as he rode his cock. The smell of an enraged
Lucerys, the spice in his scent, sent Aemond’s alpha feral as well, as he bucked into the omega,
thrusting up into his sweet tight cunt.

“Jealous, bastard?” Aemond recalled panting out as he jerked his cock into a slack-jawed Lucerys.

“It’s just instincts, Aemond. Should I have asked one of the Alpha guards to come to clean the
room instead?” Lucerys moaned out as he continued to bounce on the alpha’s lap.

His nephew looked ethereal, as he rode Aemond, his chestnut hair bouncing and his eyes glazed
with want, as Aemond twisted his nipples for his impudent words, finally coming into the omega
with a growl.

“Mine.”

Aemond’s cock was now fully hard; the haze of the rut was starting to take over again as he turned
to Lucerys, who seemed to have awoken from the potent smell of his alpha.

“I am tired and sore, husband. Let us sleep.” Lucerys sleepily mumbled as he tried inching away
from Aemond’s heated gaze.

He felt irritation course through him as he palmed his aching cock in agitation. The bastard had no
qualms about using Aemond when his heat peaked but wanted to sleep when he needed release.

“You can use your mouth, Lucerys.” Aemond bit out as he turned Lucerys toward him, the boy
going wide-eyed upon seeing his alpha stroking his cock in front of him.

“What do you mean use my mouth? It won’t fit I-” Lucerys yelped in indignation as Aemond
guided his head down to meet his cock.

“Good boy. Take it all.” Aemond groaned as he smeared the bastard’s lips with his precome,
before pushing the leaking tip into the omega’s awaiting mouth.

Lucerys started gagging as Aemond pushed more of his length in, his eyes welling with tears as the
alpha started to thrust brutally into his throat, ramming into his tight mouth. With more coaxing,
his nephew started to swirl his tongue around the tip as well, dewy eyes looking at Aemond as he
continued to fuck his throat.

Aemond could feel himself on the precipice of release; the image of Lucerys’s lips wide around his
cock was too much to bear, as he pushed his nephew’s head towards the base, wanting him to
swallow his seed. However, a sputtering Lucerys pushed off him with a loud pop. Instead, he
quickly climbed on Aemond’s lap, causing him to enter his already wet cunt.

“I thought you were sore, boy.” Aemond grinned as he pounded into a sobbing Lucerys.

“I need to get pregnant, alpha. We need an heir.” Lucerys cried out as Aemond knotted his cunt
with a groan.

A heavily shaken Aemond fell into his dreams that night, which were not plagued by his family,
but instead graced by a heavily pregnant Lucerys, swollen with his child, with their child.

Days passed, and their heat and rut broke simultaneously. Both King and Queen silently arranged
the bed as they readied themselves for the busy day ahead.

Aemond felt dread prickle his spine once he caught a whiff of Lucerys.

The boy smelt like the sea with a tinge of milk. Which only meant one thing.

Lucerys was pregnant. Undoubtedly so. He did not need a Maester to tell him.

It seemed like the omega knew this as well, as he touched his belly with a small smile on his face,
stroking it like there was something precious within.

His neck was ravaged with the love bites Aemond gave him, stretching down to the expanse of his
milky chest. Aemond was faring no better, with his back filled with dark red scratches from
Lucerys during the heat of their mating.
As Lucerys readied himself, Aemond left the room to seek out the Maester. Despite the small
feeling of contentment that was settling in his gut, he refused to give in to the happiness his alpha
felt at impregnating his mate. The boy was a bastard, a bane to his existence. A pregnancy would
not solve the glaring problems they had in front of them. He didn’t even know if Aegon’s son was
still alive.

Arming himself with the calming tea provided to him by the Maester, said to relax an omega in
post-heat, Aemond trudged back to the room, glaring at the servants in the Red Keep who stared at
him and tittered, obviously knowing what happened between their King and the Queen.

Expecting to be met with thanks, or at least an acknowledgement of graciousness, Aemond felt his
blood boil and his head ring when Lucerys took one look at the tea and threw it to the ground, the
porcelain shattering on the floor.

“You dare to serve me moon tea, husband.” he screeched as he clutched at Aemond’s collar, baring
his teeth.

“It is not moon tea, bastard. The Maester says it’s for calming you post-heat.” Aemond bit out
threateningly as he gripped Lucerys’s wrist. Hard.

“I want the Maester to be replaced. I have found one who worked under Maester Gerardys at
Dragonstone.” Lucerys said stormily as he glared at the alpha.

“No.” Aemond replied stonily as he tightened his grip on Lucerys’s wrist, releasing his alphan
scent, wanting the boy to submit.

The bastard instead stared at Aemond, scowling, his brown eyes flashing with rage before he spit
in his face.

A livid Aemond felt his wits slowly escaping him as he pulled Lucerys’s face towards his, only a
breath away, a kiss away.

“Do not test me, husband. I am the Queen, pregnant with the heir to the throne. I can make your
child hate you. Just as how you hated your own father. Change the Maester.” Lucerys said, his lips
curling in a taunt before he swept out of the room.
Chapter End Notes

Um... So that was the chapter hope you guys liked the smut :3 They went a little wild!

Our boys are so thirsty for each other but still hate each other so much oh my

Aemond was so mad there at the end (◕_ ️)

Thanks for all the lovely comments and kudos! :) They really make my day and
definitely are a big motivation for me to churn out the next chapter.

Until next time <3

 celebration
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The Great Hall was alive for the first time since the war, filled with music and the hum of
conversation from lords and ladies alike. The soft candlelight of the hall barely reached the
looming overhead stone ceiling. Tapestries of blood red, Targaryen red, hung from the walls and
embellished the tables. A pointed reminder for the attendees, that the House of the Dragon was
stronger than ever.

All the Lords of the great houses had arrived. Most had sore fealty to the new King and Queen. For
that, Aemond had let them live, spared them from Vhagar’s flames.

Unwanted thoughts of his she-dragon sent Aemond into a doleful mood, as he played with his food,
as he slowly ate the fine meats the servants brought in.

Aemond thought little of the blasted lords, they were all but a bunch of leeches and scum, only
present to suck the crown dry. He had never been fond of feasts, or festivities in general.

An incident of his youth might have soured his experiences with such festivities. A visiting lord’s
daughter had been adamant about seeing his eye, which he took great care to cover, going as far as
to pull the eyepatch off him during their meal. The stricken exclamations of horror that
reverberated through the dining hall were ones he was unable to wipe out of his mind, no matter
how hard he tried.

He remembered crying that night to his mother, cursing his fate in agony as she held him close and
whispered soft words of comfort to him.

Dismissing his dark thoughts, Aemond pulled his face back into his mask of indifference. He
pretended well, to the best he could, but the idle chatter of the self-important lords bored him.
Aemond hated dancing and was already dreading the closing dance he had to partake in with his
bothersome husband.

The Queen, however, was thriving in the belly of the beast. Dressed in a deep red dress
embellished with the trailings of Targaryen ancestry while Valaryian jewellery decorated his neck
and arms, the bastard looked ever the vision of a graceful ruler.
The boy had refused to wear a dress on their wedding day. Snapping at the servants when they tried
convincing him to. Aemond had not bothered with persuading him to do so, too shaken by the
events that had transpired, as the two had proceeded to wed in their respective clothes of choice.

The vision of his bond bite bared in full display, contrasting enticingly against the silver of his fine
jewellery, had a vexed Aemond stiffening in his breeches, as his alpha rumbled in his chest,
pleased at the image of their pregnant omega mate in all his radiance. The boy had a glow about
him, his cheeks flushed pink as he laughed with the lords and ladies, unaware of Aemond’s eye on
him.

Lucerys, the impertinent fool, had insisted on a great feast once the Maester had confirmed his
pregnancy. The boy was eager to show the masses that there was a to be a new heir to the throne.
No doubt he wanted to shove Aegon’s bastard son to the depths, to be forgotten, his presence
forever denied at court. Word from Aemond’s guards was that the boy had been sent to the Night’s
Watch under the Queen’s commands.

Aemond could not find it in himself to be wholly displeased with this. The thought of Aegon’s
bastard ascending the throne over his own blood was disconcerting, to say the least. Unwittingly in
the past moon, he had grown fond of the idea of being a sire. Of having a child of his own. Secretly
stealing away to the libraries to scour the books on parenting was a newfound pastime that he took
great care to hide from the ever-present Queen.

His daydreams about impending fatherhood were then cut short by Lucerys’s bellowing voice.

“Thank you all for attending the feast today. The King and I are grateful for the abundance of gifts
for the crown as well as for the babe. We are filled with love for our new family.” Lucerys said as
he met Aemond’s gaze, “We would also like to thank the lords who have been with us through
these tumultuous times. The House of the Dragon stands united, and we thank the gods for their
blessings.”

A cheer erupted from the guests as many proceeded to toast to the King, the Queen, to the new heir
as Aemond shifted awkwardly in his chair, unused to having so many eyes on him.

“We would also like to take this moment to remember our Royal Maester, who has recently
passed.” Lucerys continued with a solemn expression, as the guests silently fell into prayer.

Aemond could not help himself, daggers piercing his gaze as he glared at a now bemused Lucerys,
who looked as if he barely contained himself from erupting in peals of laughter at the sight of the
oblivious Lords, as they closed their eyes in prayer.
Regrettably for Aemond, the Maester’s sudden death had everything to do with him.

Upon Lucerys’s exclamations of anger, and insistence that the calming tea Aemond had brought to
him post-heat was, in fact, moon tea, Aemond had been unable to find sleep that very night.
Tossing and turning in his chambers, as the bastard’s words rang in his ears. Tormenting his
thoughts.

Surrounded by the wetness of the dungeons, and the towering rage of his King had all but sent
Maester Orwyle into a quick confession. The man cried and pleaded, snot dribbling on the floor as
he stated that he only wanted the best for Aemond, that his late mother wouldn't have wished for
him to have a child with a bastard like Lucerys.

Aemond had made quick work of him then. As blood splattered across the dungeon floor, painting
the floor with the lifeblood of the man from his childhood.

Lucerys had ordered the Maester from Dragonstone to come the very next day.

The bastard had one-upped Aemond once again, had beaten him in the game of chess, and had
forced his hand to do his dirty bidding.

Aemond’s heartbeat drummed in his ears, as he was broken out of his inner turmoil. Music played
once again, and chatter filled the Great Hall, as the guests continued their indulgences for the night.

From the corner of his eye, he could see his husband engaged in deep conversion with Cregan
Stark. The dark-haired Lord of Winterfell had a delighted glint in his eye as he indulged Lucerys,
the Queen gesturing wildly, chortling loudly at what the alpha wolf of the North had to say.

He watched in barely concealed resentment as their dark heads leaned into each other, as they
jested in mirth, Lucerys clapping the Stark Lord on the back as he continued to laugh heartily.

An unfamiliar ache was starting to form in Aemond’s chest, akin to a cluster of stones, sinking in
his stomach as he averted his gaze from the pair. His alpha was clawing at his chest, as it growled
at him for release, as it urged him to rip Lucerys from the North traitor, to claim him, to knot him
on the Great Hall’s table, to pound into him as all the esteemed Lords looks upon them as he drilled
into his pregnant mate. Pregnant with his child.

He stood abruptly, as he slammed his fist on the table, unconsciously, causing the plates and
cutlery on the table to clang, tinkling like a taunt, as he excused himself from the table. Blood was
now rushing through his head. The urge he had to tear the Stark lord apart, to feast his eyes on his
bloodied flesh, was one too much to bear. Aemond had to leave, lest he made a fool of himself.

Ignoring the questioning looks of concern, coupled with unveiled fear from the lords as he slinked
past them, Aemond made haste toward the Godswood. The loom of the red-leafed tree above him
brought him a sick form of comfort, as he leaned his arms against its weathered wood, breathing
heavily as a multitude of thoughts raced through his mind.

The Godswood had always been a place of solace for his late mother. She spoke about the place
fondly, always with a lilt of reverence in her voice.

The last time he had visited the hulking tree, was when he tore through the Red Keep looking for
his mother, unable to find her once Maelor’s death was announced. He had found her weeping
under the tree, her eyes swollen and bloodshot as she melted into a pool of tears. His once strong
mother had trembled like leaf at his feet, as her wails echoed through the halls of the castle.

She would scoff if she saw the pathetic state her son was in. His mind possessed by a bastard
omega with the meanest smirk and the quickest tongue.

Unwelcome thoughts of his nephew began to take root in his thoughts once again, as he breathed
heavily against the tree. His alpha was howling, snarling at him to turn back to the Great Hall, to
sweep Lucerys away from the celebration, to bring him to his rooms to hide him and their growing
babe away from the ogling eyes of the court.

He made attempts to calm himself, as he reasoned in his mind that the only reason he had nearly
gone feral was due to the Stark idiot touching his pregnant mate. The babe was his only concern,
not his exasperating bastard nephew.

Such thoughts brought him little to no consolation, as his feral scent had all but stunk up the
vicinity of the Godswood, as he continued to heave heavily.
“Husband, this is not the time for any of your ruses. Come back to the Great Hall. Our guests are
awaiting our closing dance. Why are you smelling like-”

Aemond lurched upon hearing his nephew’s voice, as he turned to meet his gaze. Wanting to reject
his offer, wanting to flee to his chambers, wanting to escape the smell of the sea.

Lucerys looked as if he was close to fainting, his cheeks were flushed a scarlet hue, even his
exposed collarbones were red with a blush, while his hands shook slightly at his sides. He looked
up at Aemond with the biggest of eyes, doe eyes with the calling of a siren.

Aemond was not sure what could have caused such a reaction from the bastard. Perhaps it was the
excitement of the evening festivities. Despite this, his alpha roared at him to take the bastard, to
fuck him under the very tree, to kiss him until his lips were as pink as his cheeks, to erase the smell
of every alpha who had dared touch him.

He was unsure of who had made the first move, but before he knew it, they were intertwined in a
kiss. His nephew kissed him back, the hand on his cheek moving to his eyepatch, flinging it onto
the grass, inciting the angry growl of Aemond, as he pulled him closer.

The two tumbled to the grass in a rough scramble, still entwined around each other as they
continued to kiss. Lucerys’s legs were above his before he could blink, as he continued to kiss his
lips, his cheek, his jaw. His nephew gasped prettily as he slid his hand over his arse, whimpering as
he grazed his teeth over his throat, over his bite mark.

Aemond felt as though he was drowning, drowning in the delectable sea scent that had started to
encompass him. He growled into Lucerys’s neck as he felt the wetness between his thighs, as he
slid his dress up, wanting to feel his leaking cunt that was wet for him. Only him.

“Husband, use your mouth. I want to feel your mouth on me.” Lucerys gasped as Aemond
continued to push his dress up, as he suckled on his neck. A vicious dark part of him wanted
Lucerys to carry his love marks, wanted to see the evidence of his claim purpling on his neck. The
mating bite was just not enough.

Aemond startled upon hearing Lucerys’s request. As an alpha whose primary experience came
from whorehouses during his rut, he had never pleasured anyone with his mouth before, and was
hesitant about starting now.
Lucerys the damned cretin, gave him no chance to react, as he pushed Aemond’s head down
towards his inner thighs.

His nephew smelt divine. The wetness of his cunt combined with the essence of his heat had
Aemond’s head spinning. He slowly used one hand to remove his nephew’s stockings, while the
other slid between his already wet folds, so pink, so eager. He tentatively licked between the folds,
moving with more enthusiasm upon hearing Lucery’s muffled pleas. His teeth nipped against
sensitive skin, as his tongue speared within him, licking into his nephew’s most sensitive parts.

Lucerys was full-out wailing now, as Aemond pleasured him with his mouth in the sacred
Godswood.

He felt nails dig painfully, arousingly in his head as he swirled his tongue in the bastard’s tight
heat. He himself was painfully hard, aching for release as his cock strained against his breeches.

“Please, Aemond, I want to feel you in me.” Lucerys moaned as he continued to grind against his
uncle’s mouth, legs shaking around his head.

The sweetest syrup then filled Aemond’s mouth, as his nephew came with a groan, his cunt
seeping with fluid as he continued to clean him with his tongue, relishing in Lucerys’s keens from
oversensitivity.

Aemond then made quick work of his breeches, cupping his hard cock in his hand and stroking
himself, while he gazed upon his now debauched nephew, who lay on the grass. He looked divine,
he looked like his. He came quickly with a few hard strokes, as he released his spend onto
Lucerys’s exposed thighs.

Silence then filled the Godswood, as Aemond and Lucerys panted on the grass, as they recovered
from their intense coupling.

“Aemond. I demand you to sleep in my chambers from today onwards. The baby needs you, they
need their alpha sire near.” Lucerys said firmly, as he gripped Aemond’s arm, so tight that he could
feel his nails digging into his wrist.

Aemond wanted to protest, wanted to deny Lucerys his request, wanted to scream at the bastard for
enthralling him in ways no one had ever done before.
 Before he could respond, he was whisked back to make hasty farewells to their guests in the Great
Hall, with Lucerys holding his arm, not letting him go.

The guests looked upon them, faces burning once they smelt their combined scents, as the scent of
lust that dripped from their Queen and King poured through the hall. Cregan Stark, to Aemond’s
secret delight, was unable to meet them both in the eye as he bade his goodbyes.

The insistent omega then proceeded to drag Aemond to his bed-chamber, where he promptly
undressed into his nightclothes, falling asleep once he hit the soft bed, a serene smile on his face as
he cradled his stomach.

‘This is for the baby. I am doing this for the baby.’ Aemond repeated like a mantra in his head, his
heart pounding in his chest, as he joined the omega in his bed.

Chapter End Notes

Our boys got a little freaky under the Godswood, they just can't control themselves my
goodness

Aemond looking at Cregan: (◕_ ️)

Thank you for all the lovely comments and kudos! :') Reader feedback is always so
nice to read and definitely keeps me motivated to write the next chapter <3

Until next time <3

 homecoming
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Sharing a bed chamber with his husband for the past fortnight had Aemond tethering on the edge
of insanity.

Lucerys was terribly, infuriatingly demanding. The boy insisted on the finest threads for his
bedding and stole all of Aemond’s favourite night clothes to nest in, much to his chagrin. The
Maester had told Aemond that his nephew’s pregnancy cravings would be expected soon as well,
which painted the bleak picture of foreboding in the alpha’s frazzled mind.

The King and Queen were currently seated at the council, as Aemond sat back, weary-eyed as he
watched his omega waffle on with the Great Lords regarding yet again more war reparations.
Harenhal was the subject they had been fixated on for the past moon, as the audacious bastard
rambled on about the outrages that occurred there during the war.

The taking of Harrenhal was a vivid memory in Aemond’s mind, the burning of the buildings as
the guards around him slaughtered the screaming townsfolk, as their blood pooled onto the stoned
streets. He recalled an older woman, hair as black as ink, that flowed down her back like the river
of death. She had introduced herself as a bastard of House Strong, as she offered herself as his
bedmate, for him to do as he pleased to her giving body.

Aemond had his guard deal with her and ignored her shrill cry as her body fell to the floor. The
sheer audacity of the woman, whose hair, and eyes reminded him of the blasted nephew who took
his eye. He had no desire to let anyone from House Strong live, as he vowed to have their line
extinguished for good, payment for his nephew’s sins.

The irony of the situation was ridiculous in itself. The very evidence grew in the belly of his
husband. Perhaps it was the Seven punishing him for his past sins and transgressions. How Aegon
would laugh if he saw him now: the contributor to the continuation of the bloodline of the house he
so hated.

Despite the bloodline of his babe, Aemond still felt an intense, unwavering devotion to them, a
feeling new to him. It was incomparable to how he had felt for Helaena’s children. He loved them
as an uncle, and had all but been on the brink of going mad when they were taken by death one
after the other. But the child in Lucerys’s belly was one he would protect and nurture with his life.
It was an all-consuming feeling, something that frightened him deeply.
“My King, what do you think should be done in Harrenhal?”

Lucerys’s saccharine voice sounded, which broke Aemond out of his fatigued state of thought, as
he responded to his irksome husband in a series of low grunts.

It was the bastard’s responsibility that his mind wandered during council meetings.

The boy had commanded the bed and blankets for himself when night fell, sprawling across the
mattress, akin to a starfish. Aemond had been relegated to the edge, as he begrudgingly struggled to
calm his mind to find the peace of slumber

This was not for lack of trying. One night he had attempted gently rolling his nephew over but had
been met with a perturbed snarl, as Lucerys snatched the blankets away from Aemond and
proceeded to spread himself across the bed more than he had done before.

The less-than-ideal sleeping arrangement was something Aemond had no problem dealing with. He
had slept in worse conditions during the war, finding sleep in squalid huts and tepid tents which
reeked of mould and dirt. Clinging onto the edge of a comfortable mattress was the least of his
worries.

It was the scent, the milk-addled sea scent of Lucerys, that tantalised his nose, his every sense.

His alpha yearned for the pregnant omega, desiring desperately to consume his very being.
Aemond lay in the bed, unable to sleep most of the nights, painfully hard in his night clothes, as the
oblivious bastard snored loudly aside him. Recollections of their past couplings, during their heat
and rut, under the weirwood tree where Aemond had pleasured him for the first time, haunted the
alpha’s mind.

Shame had overtaken Aemond’s soul in the past fortnight, as he had rushed to the bathroom, many
a time to pull on his engorged cock, as the name of his obnoxious nephew fell from his lips in an
unsatisfying release.

Due to the sheer size of Aemond’s night clothes on Lucerys’s small frame, the fabric had often
ridden up the omega’s lewd body in his sleep, leaving his stomach exposed to a thirsting Aemond.
His mouth went dry at the very sight.
Despite being less than two moons into his pregnancy, the boy was already starting to show, his
stomach swelling in the most endearing way, much to Aemond’s frustration.

His inability to sleep, coupled with his intense longing for the bastard, had Aemond stumped.
However, pouring over more books from the library regarding parenthood, he comforted himself
that the salacious thoughts he had for his nephew were merely due to the babe he was carrying.
The incident under the Weirwood tree as well had been spurred on by the babe needing the contact
of their alpha sire. Such thoughts brought momentary peace to Aemond. His raging lust would soon
be quelled once the babe was born. Then the two could finally part ways into their own separate
chambers.

Perhaps Aemond would have the nursemaids set up a cot in his room for the babe as well, he
thought fondly, as the council was dismissed for the day by Lucerys, the collection of their
respective balls of on the table indicating so.

“My King. You seem otherwise uninterested in the dealings of the council. It worries me greatly
that you would be ill-equipped for the annual visit to Oldtown. Hence, I have sent a raven to
inform them that I would be accompanying you on the coming trip on the morrow.” Lucerys said
coolly, a coy smile on his face.

“I have family in Oldtown. Your help with the dealings there are unneeded, boy.” Ire tinged
Aemond’s blood, as he turned to the boy, biting out scathingly as he stared him down.

“Since by the wrath of the Gods above, my baby has Hightower blood as well. I would assume my
visit would be welcomed.” Lucerys mouthed, sneering into Aemond’s ear, his hot breath causing a
shiver to run down the alpha’s spine.

“You are too wise, my Lord Strong,” Aemond muttered, acidly, suppressing the urge to snarl in his
face.

Lucerys had every intent to slap his face, as Aemond caught his wrist, his reflexes fast from the
physical prowess he trained so hard to build. The omega let out a yelp of indignance as his nostrils
flared with rage, his dark eyes trained on Aemond, staring into his very being.

The touch seared Aemond’s soul, as the scent of the sea, tinged with undercurrents of rage, filled
the room. It aroused him as much as it scared him. He pushed Lucerys’s arm away, as if the omega
burnt him, and bolted out of the room.
-

The journey to Oldtown was a short one, as the Crown had commissioned faster, sturdier ships
from the court at Driftmark. They were able to arrive within the week.

Due to Arrax and Vhagar’s injuries from the war, the dragon keepers stated that they were unable
to fly, and were unsure if the two could ever take flight again. Vhagar’s wings were pierced
through with arrows, pockets in her wings that took long, years even to heal, while Arrax’s leg had
a wound that seemed to fester with every coming day.

Aemond had prayed in the Sept for Vhagar, he had even sent one for the bastard’s tiny dragon. He
wished to take his child for a flight on Vhagar when they were old enough, and prayed to the Gods
that his wish would be granted. He never had the opportunity when he was younger. His father's
dragon Balerion having passed before he was even born.

Due to the boats having been newly made, the quarters were much smaller in comparison to the
sprawling bed chambers they had back in the Red Keep. Aemond was torn between his feelings of
relief and emptiness at this fact. Relief that he could attain his much-needed sleep without
succumbing to pangs of lust at the sight of his nephew, and emptiness at not being able to be close
to his pup.

The King and Queen had pointedly avoided each other on the ship. Lucerys barely spared him a
glance as he spoke only to the other serving omegas he had brought on the journey for help. It was
no matter to Aemond, he filled his time by keeping to his quarters, as he read the books he brought,
a combination of histories as well as child-rearing texts.

Anticipation thrummed in his veins as they arrived at the port in Oldtown. The city was as
beautiful as he remembered. The port was bustling, sprawling with fishermen and traders, as they
shouted out commands to incoming ships and bartered for wares. The Citadel loomed menacingly
above, towering over the houses and establishments that littered the roads.

Aemond made a mental note in his mind to make a visit during his tenure in the city, to pray to the
High Septon for the safety of his babe. It was something his mother would have wished for.

Even Lucerys looked stunned upon arrival, Aemond thought smugly as the omega’s mouth fell
open, seemingly amazed at the beauty the city had to offer.
The rest of the morning followed in a blur, as they were whisked away to the Hightower’s ancestral
home. A sense of nostalgia overcame him as they traversed the halls to their prepared rooms, as if
he was tracing his steps of the past.

He remembered spending summers here with his mother and siblings, elation always painting his
mother’s face when she entered her old home as if she was years, if not decades, younger. Running
through the halls with Daeron, as Gwayne, their uncle, chased them down, roaring in laughter.
Mother laughing as she introduced him to the various foods of the city at the dining table. He
missed them all. Desperately so.

They were then frantically dressed by the servants, as they were presented to the new Hightower
Lord, Lyonel Hightower, whose court greeted Aemond with warm smiles on their faces. Aemond
looked to his side, only to see Lucerys smiling tightly back at them, as they congratulated the
Queen on his pregnancy.

Lyonel had insisted on bringing them on a tour of the house’s gardens, as he urged Aemond and
Lucerys to come along, the rest of the court trailing behind in tow.

Glassy double doors opened onto the large porch, and they stepped onto the low windy steps
leading to a slithering stone path. There was a huge lake located in the middle, where the water
twinkled in the afternoon sun, surrounded by dozens of flowerbeds overflowing with greenery and
the fruit trees Aemond so loved picking from as a child.

As the party walked along the lake, to Aemond’s shock, Lucerys was speaking to Lyonel
diplomatically, his head held high, with a dignified lilt in his tone as they discussed the current
treaty between House Targaryen and House Hightower. Aemond had expected the bastard to sulk,
to show obvious displeasure during his interactions with his mother’s family.

Unconsciously, he felt his heart warm at the sight.

“Aemond! It’s you! Oops, I mean, Your Grace, it’s you!” A red-headed girl exclaimed, as her eyes
raked over Aemond’s form in barely concealed awe.

As he studied the girl, wracking his mind for when he could have met her before. Chiming laughter
erupted from her as she grabbed his arm with a sense of familiarity.

“I’m Lysa, Your Grace, Lyonel’s daughter. We played together during your visits here in your
youth! I hoped you would remember.”

Aemond was then reminded of the curly red-headed wild girl he and his siblings played with as
children during their visits. He relaxed, at ease from the ease of someone familiar from his
childhood, as she continued to link her arms with his, chattering in his ear about how the
Hightower court was faring, filling him in with what he had missed in Oldtown over the past
decade.

Lysa was the spitting image of a Hightower lady, with red hair sprawling down her back in tendrils,
similar to that of his mother.

To think there was still someone he grew up with, alive and well, besides his aggravating husband.
Aemond felt a sense of contentment at the familiarity her words brought as they continued their
trek along the lake, her arm interlinked with his.

It was a shame Aemond found himself distracted from their conversion, as his mind floated back to
thoughts of his husband. His hair had grown longer, he realised when they disembarked from the
ship, curling into his neck in the most teasing way. When Lucerys had looked his way
questioningly as if wondering why Aemond had been gaping at him. He had averted his eyes in
haste, ears flushed in embarrassment.

The bastard had been giving him the cold shoulder since the ‘Lord Strong’ comment, and he
wondered if they would share their quarters for the night. The baby needed Aemond, after all, he
thought morosely, as he tried investing himself in Lysa’s ramblings.

“Your Grace, walk with me. Your lovely Queen deserves a break, he has given me an insightful
rundown into how our agreements could be improved with the Crown. You are truly blessed!”
Lyonel thumped Aemond’s shoulder as Lysa slinked back to walk with Lucerys, who glared at
Aemond stonily.

He was confused as to how to boy was upset again, but ignored the festering feeling of dread in his
chest as he fell into step with the Hightower Lord.

Aemond loathed how Lucerys was able to command the council, even his own relatives, with ease,
but his alpha burst with unexpected pride upon hearing Lyonel’s comments.

They continued to promenade around the lake, as Lyonel filled his ear with talks of treaties.
However, the moment of peace he had was quickly interrupted by a splash, followed by horrified
screams from Lysa coming from behind them.

Lucerys was sitting on the pavement, crying softly as he tried pushing himself up. Anxiety
thrummed through Aemond as he ran to his husband, scooping him up and carrying him in his arms
as Lyonel ordered one of the knights to help a soaked, delirious Lysa.

Aemond’s alpha was singing in triumph, as he felt the omega and his child in his arms once again.
Contentment, as well as worry, coursed through the bond as Lucerys burrowed his head into
Aemond’s shoulder, weeping softly.

“He pushed me, the little brat pushed me, father, I swear it!” Lysa screeched as her father attempted
to calm her down.

“Now Lysa, don’t be silly. I am sure the Queen had a moment of clumsiness due to his pregnancy.
The pavement is a little wet, after all. Enjoy the rest of the gardens, Your Graces, and I will see you
both on the morrow.” Lyonel assuaged his fuming daughter, as he led her away, bidding his
farewell to the couple as Aemond looked after their retreating figures, dumbfounded as the rest of
the court followed suit.

When they reached the privacy of their assigned guest quarters, Lucerys jumped down from
Aemond’s arms and surveyed the room, ire in his eyes as he demanded the servants to change the
deep green bedsheets immediately.

The quick switch in his nephew’s demeanour, from a weeping damsel in distress to a spoilt,
demanding brat, as he commanded the servants insistently had his thoughts running amok. Lucerys
couldn't have pushed the girl. He wouldn’t. She had done nothing to him.

“Should we call for the Maester, nephew? To make sure the babe is fine.” Aemond said tightly as
he inquired upon the impolite bastard.

“No Aemond. The babe is fine. There is no need.” Lucerys huffed out as he proceeded to lounge on
the chaise in the room.
The servants then filtered in to change the seats, as Aemond looked fixedly at Lucerys, heart
hammering in his chest.

Once the servants had left, he gingerly approached his husband, hoping his suspicions would be
proven wrong.

“It pains me to ask you this. But did you push Lysa?” He said grimly, as he glowered at his
nephew.

“So what if I did, uncle?” Lucerys replied, grinning coltishly as he moved toward the bed, lying on
the now dark red sheets.

“Why would you have come here if you hate the Hightowers so? You amaze me sometimes,
bastard.” Aemond hissed out. “It is as if you exist to vex me so.”

“You Hightowers are all the same, just whores wanting the throne. I see through all of you. My
child might have their blood, but I will ensure they will definitely not have the same temperament.”
Lucerys snapped out as his gaze darkened.

Aemond felt his body quiver in rage, as he felt his chest tighten. There was something wrong with
him. He wanted to kill Lucerys, wanted to strangle him on those red sheets, for having the gall to
utter such heinous words. He wanted to fuck Lucerys; the dark gaze in the omega’s eyes, coupled
with the red sheets on the bed, was taking him back to the very first time the boy took his cock.

As if sensing his arousal, Lucerys surged up, as his mouth met Aemond’s in a biting kiss. The
omega tasted sweet, like the apples he was munching on in the gardens. The alphas grown in
Oldtown had a distinct taste, sweeter than anyone could find in Kings Landing. His alpha keened in
contentment with the contact, exhilarated at the thought of being intimate with his mate once again,
as they licked desperately into each other’s mouths.

Aemond could not breathe as his hands slid over his omega’s body. This insolent, magnetic thing
had all but had him possessed. It was as if the fortnight they had been apart had all but ruined him.
His thumbs ran over a moaning Lucerys’s blouse as he began to unbutton it, and held him close as
his mouth pressed against his throat.

“You are pathetic uncle,” Lucerys whispered, his lips brushing against Aemond’s ear. “We just
had a little kiss, and you are already so hard.” he continued, grinding tauntingly against Aemond’s
hard cock.

“Shut the fuck up.” Aemond felt something wicked overtake him as he stood from the bed, hand
under the insolent thing’s arse as he walked toward the balcony of their room. Lucerys squealed in
shock, as he instinctively wrapped his legs around his alpha.

“Aemond, you can’t. Someone will see us,” Lucerys whined as Aemond pushed him head first
against the cool metal of the balcony, ripping his trousers down to expose his dripping cunt.

“Who is the whore now, nephew.” Aemond groaned out as he positioned himself at the boy’s
entrance, teasing him with the strokes of his engorged cock against his slick cunt. He missed this
feeling, missed the feeling of Lucerys against him, wanton and eager to be filled.

“Alpha, please, let us go back inside. I-”

Ignoring the sounds of protest from the omega, Aemond sheathed inside his wet heat in one stroke,
growling as he did so. Lucerys felt divine, so tight, so good, as he rolled his hips into a now crying
Lucerys. Another low moan wracked his throat, as he watched his nephew fall apart with each
thrust, as he clung onto the balcony rail, his body shaking in pleasure as Aemond took from him.

“Such a slut, taking me on the balcony for all to see.” Aemond bit out as he kept up his
ministrations, his hands gripping Lucerys’s thighs, hard enough to bruise as he braced his free hand
onto to balcony rail and rammed harder into him, inciting another set of whines from his sobbing
nephew.

He did not stop moving even after Lucerys hit his peak with a violent shudder, as he cried out
Aemond’s name with those pretty lips. Vicious lips filled with the snarkiest of comments, lips he
could not stop thinking about. No matter how hard he tried.

One final thrust sent him over the edge, as he pushed his knot into Lucerys, painting the boy’s
inside with his spend. Lucerys was now blubbering from the overstimulation on his cunt, as
Aemond carried him carefully back to the bed, placing him on the sheets as they waited for his
knot to deflate.

They had both drifted off to sleep, tired from their long travels, as if the babe was finally content
with the proximity of their parents. Lucerys woke him up a few hours later, crying for his knot,
 kissing Aemond’s neck, as he pulled at his silver hair in want. Aemond had gotten hard quickly
again, as Lucerys rode him to completion, bouncing on his cock as Aemond sucked lovebites onto
his chest, his neck.

He lay in the dark, Lucerys snoozing next to him after they had gone a second round, as he
attempted to reconcile his emotions for the boy. The intense hatred he had that burned within him,
coupled with an unknown emotion he couldn’t, that he dared not name.

As Lucerys inched closer and hugged him in his sleep, only then did Aemond let himself fall into a
slumber.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you so much for the lovely kudos and comments from the previous chapter ❤️

The room when Lucerys confessed to pushing Lysa : \

(◕_ ️)/ ( ️_ ️)

Aemond still doesn't know why Luke pushed her... I can't with this man :')

Do comment if you enjoyed this chapter! I love reading all of them

 resplendent
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Aemond peered out of the drawn curtains of the carriage as he admired the streets of Oldtown. The
city had changed little since his last visit. The cobblestoned streets held memories of the levity of
his childhood, as he reminisced sneaking out with Helaena and Daeron as children, as they tore
through the narrow, crookbacked roads.

His mother had chided them for this, of course, as she reproached them on how the streets were not
fit for little princes and princesses. But even so, she had merriness sparkling in her eyes, which only
seemed to appear when she was back home.

A wretched part of him sometimes wondered if things would have been different if mother had
remained in Oldtown, if she had married someone other than his father. If Otto had been the one to
pass instead of grandmother. Maybe her life wouldn’t have been one filled with such grief, maybe
she could have been happy.

When the war was well and truly over, a little over a moon into his and Lucerys’s marriage,
Aemond had stirred in the middle of the night, awoken by a nightmare, as visions of Otto flooded
his mind, and had him breaking out in cold sweat.

Aemond was not scared of anything. Not scared of anyone.

He had left the room and found Otto’s head that Rhaenyra had put upon the spikes in the Red
Keep. Aemond had mourned the loss of his grandfather before, his mother's pain palpable,
contagious. He stepped on the head as he felt the meat splash beneath his leather boots, impaling it
with his sword, before tossing the remains into the rat-filled sewers.

In his darkest moments, there were times Aemond wished he had never been born, that his mother
had met a common man, had common children and had never stepped foot in the Red Keep.

Yet, Aemond now had something to live for, someone to live for, as he gazed at the belly of the
sleeping boy beside him.

Lucerys had all but insisted on accompanying him to the Citadel, despite Aemond’s protests.
Whining in annoyance when Aemond had argued that he wouldn’t enjoy the prayer ceremony.
“As the Queen, it is imperative I visit the Citadel. I would like to see how the Crown could perhaps
make improvements to it as well.” His nephew had all but exclaimed.

He was thankful the omega was fast asleep in the carriage, dozing against Aemond’s shoulder, as
his dark hair tickled his neck. Perhaps exhausted from the events that had transpired the night
before. Aemond found it difficult to meet the boy’s eye, as he found himself flushing with the
memories of their salacious actions.

It was truly an impetuous decision on his part, their lust driven by the babe’s need for proximity,
he desperately assured himself as the carriage entered the arching stone bridge of the Citadel.

The High Septon had agreed to meet them in the Vault. The stone-walled room was filled with the
smattering of dimly lit candles, and a silver seven-pointed star overhung the tapestries of deep
green. Hightower green. Sunlight gleaned into the room, shimmering under the stained glass
above, where the image of The Mother was carved out.

\\

She seemed to frown upon Aemond as if she was all-knowing to the ruin that tainted his insides.

Lucerys clutched his arm tightly as they entered the dark room. Aemond could hear his heavy
breaths, as they echoed among the grand beams and arches above. There was a luminescent air in
the place, surrounded by the smell of beeswax, honeyed and musky.

The High Septon was dressed in flaxen, holy red, with embellishments of the Faith of the Seven
running down his robes, bathed in the light shining from the stained glass. Upon sensing their
arrival, he turned around to bow to the King and Queen.

The two were then directed to sit on the seats in front of the altar, where another symbol of the
Seven was placed, surrounded by smaller statutes in the front and centre.

Aemond hurriedly placed a pillow he had brought from the carriage onto his nephew’s seat before
he took place on his own, pointedly not looking at Lucerys, who gazed at him in question.
The boy had chosen to don himself in a long-sleeved blue dress, flared at the ends of his sleeves
akin to the shape of bluebells, as he sat squarely with a huff onto the pillow-laden seat.

Despite the dress having appeared modest, covering his arms and legs, the cut of the dress’s
neckline dipped low, leaving his nephew’s scar of a bonding mark and the darkened kiss marks on
his neck, on his chest to appear in their full glory.

Aemond had held his tongue when Lucerys had changed into the inappropriate outfit of his, not
wanting the boy to lash out at him when they had all but called to somewhat of a tentative truce the
night before.

The fact that his breeches had tightened at the sight of his husband dressed in blue was something
he did not care to, nor wanted to ponder upon, lest he go down the spiral of no return.

Light caught and reflected off the lenses atop of the High Septon’s nose, as his ever-stern face
twisted in a brief moment of judgemental displeasure upon laying eyes on the oblivious omega.

He started his prayer in a drolling tone, as he spoke of the strengthening prosperity of the lands
thanks to the new King and Queen, who had been rightfully blessed by the God of the Seven with a
child to bring forward a new dynasty toward peace, toward the leading of the people in the Faith.

Aemond could feel Lucerys fidgeting beside him, as he silently prayed that the boy would be still,
just for a moment. At least until the babe had gotten their blessing from the wizened old man.

The Septon’s drawl was then cut off by Lucerys, who had started fussing about the temperature of
the Vault.

“Your Grace, if you would just wait a moment, the prayer would end in about an hour or so.” The
Septon said stonily, steel in his voice.

“The baby is cold, my King, please.” Lucerys pleaded, as he grasped Aemond’s hand.

Aemond rose immediately upon hearing those words, as he called for the guards who stood outside
the doors to bring the Queen his blankets, as he feigned ignorance to the look of distaste the Septon
shot him.
Upon receiving the blankets from the guard, instead of sitting back down on his cushioned seat, the
brazen thing instead plopped himself on Aemond’s lap, as he swathed himself in the soft fleece.

“The seat was too cold for my liking, husband.” he bit out with a cocky smirk directed at the
dumbfounded Septon, as he squirmed on Aemond’s lap.

Aemond could feel his patience, his sanity dwindling as lust started to thrum through his veins.
Lucerys was all but grinding on his already pulsating cock. He felt like decking the bastard for
behaving so indecently, as he proceeded to grip his hips harshly. A sign of warning.

Unfortunately, this seemed to have only spurred his vulgar nephew on, as he let out a barely
audible moan, only heard by Aemond, which all but sent a rush of blood down his engorged cock.

The Septon continued his prayers as he spoke about the reverence of The Mother, a pure vestal
woman. Thankfully, he seemed unaware of the misconduct playing out under the holy roof of the
Vault, by the King and Queen of the Seven Kingdoms, no less.

Aemond wanted to listen, he really did, but his whole being had been set on fire, as he felt Lucerys
shift in a way that allowed his skirt to ride up, as his undergarments made contact with Aemond’s
clothed cock.

The blanket was falling, as Lucerys’s grip on the soft fabric started to loosen. Dread started to rise
in Aemond as he removed his hands from Lucerys’s waist, and he proceeded to hold the blanket
close, to keep their dignity intact.

This was a mistake. Lucerys had all but used his now free hands to make swift work of Aemond’s
breeches, unbuttoning him with trembling hands as he sat upon him once again. Soft groans of
pleasure were let out by the two as they trembled with barely contained want.

All senses of rationality were quickly escaping Aemond, as Lucerys’s wet cunt made contact with
his hard cock. With just a push, they would be joined, he would have been able to feel that tight,
all-encompassing heat once again. Just a little more.

“I think, my Graces, that maybe we should postpone the prayers for another time.”
The words of the disgruntled High Septon, who stared at them in disdain, had Aemond burning in
embarrassment.

Lucerys, the licentious fool instead, hopped down from Aemond’s lap as he patted his dress with
satisfaction as he all but dashed out of the room with a shout of thanks to the tutting Septon.

He ignored the growls of anger that came from the alpha, who was all but exposed to the High
Septon due to the now pooling blanket on the stony ground.

A mortified Aemond proceeded to hastily button his breeches, bowing in thanks to the affronted
Maester, who all but looked as if he was contemplating the very competence of the Royal family,
as he fled the Vault.

His storm toward the carriage was loud, as his boots stepped upon the stones on the pavement
noisily.

As Aemond flung open the carriage doors, he was greeted with the sight of a teary-eyed Lucerys,
tears streaking down his face in rivulets, his undergarments all but disposed of as he pleasured
himself with his fingers, his shiny eyes pleading to Aemond for relief.

“Please, Alpha, My King. You need to take responsibility.”

The carriage shook incessantly with movement on their journey back, jerking on the roads on the
way back to the Hightower’s castle.

Lucerys had called upon the servants to serve their lunch in their quarters. The boy had devoured
his food, chewing happily as he relished his meal. Despite their rough start in Oldtown, Lucerys
seemed to take no issue with the cuisine served in Aemond's mother's ancestral home, taking well
to the rich stews of various meat and vegetables the servants had laden upon him.

It left Aemond stumped at how such an innocent-looking boy could evoke such hunger, such
fervour within him. He felt himself shivering at the memory of how they had gotten carried away
in the carriage.
His husband had taken Aemond’s harsh thrusts within the carriage with titillating cries of ecstasy
as Aemond moved him up and down his cock with his strong hands. The boy had clung onto his
shoulders, as he bit the mark on the alpha’s shoulder with his small sharp teeth, unravelling with a
watery cry. Aemond had come quickly after, having already been wound tight from the teasing in
the Citadel, as he split his seed and pushed his knot into his whimpering nephew.

Aemond looked upon him with a barely veiled frown plastering his face as he ate aside him. His
alpha hummed happily, however, revelling in his post-orgasm haze, rumbling with pride at the
sight of the satisfied omega.

His mother would have turned in her grave if she had bore witness to their primitive behaviour in
the Citadel. Aemond himself felt unhinged at the thought of it.

“Boy, you do know that the High Septon might never allow us back. Our baby might never get his
blessing when they are born.” He gritted his teeth, swallowing.

“Do lighten up, Aemond. They have to let us back. We are the King and Queen anyway. Mayhaps
we could get the babe blessed in the traditions of old Valyria instead.” Lucerys said with his mouth
full.

They had fallen to the temptations of sleep once lunch was over, fatigued from the events that had
transpired in the day.

Aemond cursed at himself, cursed at his wretched husband as the servants informed them that they
had overslept and missed the dinner that took place with the Hightower family in the Dining Hall.

The object of his ire continued to snore beside him, as his hand enveloped his belly in his sleep.

He had never taken afternoon sleeps, not since he was a babe. He was unlike Aegon in this aspect.
His brother had all but flopped in bed, even after he was crowned King, much to the mortification
of his mother and Otto.
Lucerys, the vicious alluring vixen, had wearied his very being for the day. The boy was a bane to
his existence, and had distracted him from the responsibilities he had set out. His well-thought-out
plan to spend the afternoon in the Citadel’s library, to enrich himself with old texts regarding the
histories was ruined.

Aemond had planned on speaking to Lysa at dinner, had planned on apologising to her privately
for his husband’s mishaps, but that would have to wait as well. Perhaps he would have a word with
her during the upcoming hunt the Hightowers had planned to hold in the King and Queen’s
honour.

As he retrieved his coat, he shrugged the last fragments of sleep off his shoulders, wanting to dart
to the kitchens to retrieve food for dinner. To his horror, his blasted nephew stirred in bed, as he
blinked sleepily in confusion at the sight of his husband.

The streets were now dark, the light of the moon obscured by the grey fumes that rose from the
establishments surrounding them. Drunkards stumbled onto the streets, cheap drink in their hands
as they bartered with shopkeepers, as their drink sloshed onto the stoned floors, painting the streets
a dark red.

Aemond felt a sense of belonging with the dark, murky sky as his boots crunched along the
cobblestoned streets. The sounds of the music that played, music so melodic, had done little to ease
his troubled heart.

His eyes shadowed Lucerys’s form, as the omega pranced through the streets, dashing into each
dimly lit alley, wanting to try the rows of produce the shopkeepers had to offer, wanting to look at
the wares they had on display. The boy had made Aemond buy him a pomegranate and had bit into
the seeds, the red syrup flowing down his mouth as he licked at it sloppily with the flick of his
small, pink tongue.

Aemond averted his eyes, as he tempered down the shock of want that ran down his spine.

Lucerys had insisted on looking for food in the market, and had threatened Aemond that he would
have gone himself if not accompanied. The two proceeded to slip out in hooded cloaks, before they
ventured into the night market.
As the boy spoke to the shopkeepers and bargained for goods, Aemond let himself soak in the
atmosphere of the market. Oldtown still had the charm that he remembered in his youth, the market
was towered by the beacon of the massive tower of red, that had burnt deep green just a year ago.

He peered into an alleyway where countless shadowy like-figures danced. A street that led to the
unscrupulous types of entertainment he hoped his inquisitive mate would not notice.

Alas, Aemond’s pleas were in vain, as Lucerys, upon following his line of sight, had dragged him
into the alleyway, where scantily clad dancers roamed the streets in the dim glow of the light. The
omega had a look of enchantment on his face as he watched the dancers in awe, as he continued to
venture deeper into the alley.

“Nephew, we should not be here. It’s not a fitting place for a pregnant omega. Let us return now.”
Aemond said, a mixture of exasperation and worry tinging his voice.

The bastard ignored his shouts and instead darted away into one of the heavily covered taverns.
Aemond cursed loudly, as he tore after the nimble omega.

As Aemond pushed the tavern sheets aside and entered, he was met with the sight of writhing
bodies, men and women alike in various states of undress as they gave in to their carnal pleasures
within the tavern's thin walls. It stank of sweat, of sex as the unnamed bodies gyrated, as if in
tandem around them.

He found Lucerys in the corner of the room, as the omega looked entranced by the headiness of the
sight before him, as he nibbled on his red lips.

“We must go, nephew. I command you to. As your King, as your Alpha. It is not safe for the
baby.” Aemond had snarled out as he gripped Lucerys’s arm, strong enough to bruise.

“Have you been to a place like this before, husband?” Lucerys whispered as he continued to stare
at naked bodies, twisting in the most serpentine ways, his cheeks stained a vermillion red, as red as
his lips.

“I have Lucerys, as a youth. We must go. Now.” Aemond said lowly, his voice thick.

He wanted to kiss the bastard, wanted to suck on his red-stained lips, he could feel himself
stiffening in his breeches as Lucerys tilted his head to gaze up at him coquettishly.

“Did you enjoy it, uncle?” Lucerys murmured in a rush, breathless and excited, as he stood on his
toes, cupping Aemond's face as he stared at him with those bewitching brown eyes. The hood that
hid his dark hair, as if to veil himself from the alpha, made him look secretive, so dark and
promising.

Aemond could feel the warmth of the omega, down to the whole length of his body, as he
struggled to respond to his question.

I enjoy you more. Were the words left on the tip of his tongue, words he did not manage to get out,
before Lucerys pulled him down into a fiery kiss.

He could taste the pomegranate juice on the omega’s tongue, as he suckled at it insistently,
drawing a gasp from the boy, as he grabbed Aemond’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

Aemond's mouth then travelled up the omega’s neck, as his teeth dug into his skin. The scent of
the sea was getting headier, enveloping his soul as he pulled his husband flush against him.

As he did this, Lucerys’s hood fell from his head, as his face, his dark curled hair unveiled to all in
the tavern, as they looked upon the pair curiously.

With a barely contained snarl, Aemond withdrew himself away from the smouldering omega, as he
pulled his hood up and grabbed the boy’s hand tightly as they fled the tavern, away from the
sordid alleyway, and onto the streets.

“Why did you stop, husband.” Lucerys looked as if he was about to fly into a rage, his eyes wild
with fury, as he stomped on Aemond’s foot with his boot, eliciting a loud curse from the Alpha.

“As I said before, nephew, it is not safe for a pregnant omega to be in such an establishment. Much
less the King and Queen.” Aemond stormed out, grimacing, as he felt his foot tinge with pain.

There was a storm building within the alpha, as wrath and bloodlust spiked his senses, coursing
through his entire being. He wanted to go back to the brothel, to knife the onlookers who had seen
Lucerys panting, aroused. The sight of the omega in such a state was for him and only him.
 “I will take you, in the comforts of our bedchambers, boy.” He had said softly, as the omega
seemed to calm at his words, stumbling against the alpha’s shoulder, as if the events of the day had
finally caught up to him.

With a sigh, Aemond placed the deer-footed omega onto his back as he carried the exhausted
thing.

“Aemond, when was your first kiss?” The boy had sleepily mumbled into his hair, half asleep.

“That is none of your concern. But if you must know, it was with one of Helaena’s friends. A lord's
daughter. It was uneventful, to say the least.”

“Mine was with you, husband,” Lucerys said faintly, his voice almost incomprehensible, as he
started to doze off.

Butterflies were starting to rise in Aemond’s chest, in his heart, enveloping his entire being, as he
silently made his way back to the castle, Lucerys’s warm hands around him.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos!

The High Septon in the Citadel:

( ️_ ️)
(◕_ ️)
(O_O;)

The emojis are getting more out of hand with each chapter

Aemond still wants to apologise to Lysa, this man... :')

Do leave a comment if you liked this chapter! They are such a joy to read and
definitely a huge motivation for me as well❤️
 hunt
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Snow had begun to fall in Oldtown. The sweltering heat that had favoured the city had all but
vanished, replaced by early nights, as the clouds gathered by sunset. The boughs of trees in the
forest seemed to have been adorned by thick pillows, as their once vibrant leaves had disappeared,
hiding to make their appearance only once the freezing air had melted.

A Hunt had been organised by Lord Lyonel Hightower in honour of the King and Queen, to
celebrate their union as well as the blessing of the new heir to the Iron Throne.

There were multiple fires surrounding the table that had been laid by the servants next to the forest,
filled with decadent food and drink. At least five boars were being roasted on the open fire their
party had set up, but Aemond supposed that this was a special enough occasion.

He and Lucerys were bound to depart Oldtown within the week. Their moon of stay was quickly
coming to a close, as the two prepared for their imminent arrival back to Kings Landing.

When winter had fallen upon Oldtown the week before, his omega had gone into an irritable state,
as he complained incessantly about the weather, much to the alpha’s frustration. The boy kicked
up a fuss on how his skin had gotten dry, how his appetite had started to wane and how
Dragonstone never got so cold. Many a time, Aemond had been close to snapping at the boy for
insisting on coming to Oldtown, but decided to keep mun, the memory of Lucerys ignoring him
during their travel to Oldtown still stark in his mind. It would do him no good to cross his nephew.

There was a tentative peace between the couple, one so fragile, so precious, that Aemond felt duty-
bound not to break it. It was as if after the night at the markets at Oldtown less than a fortnight
ago, the two had called an internal truce.

He had commissioned the best furs from the Oldtown tailors, had searched the markets for the
ingredients to make the boy’s favourite lemon cakes, and had obtained a salve from the maids, said
to keep dry skin during the winter months at bay.

These small efforts seemed to appease his husband. His poisonous barbs had lessened, and despite
them still getting into heated arguments about the most menial of things, things were improving.
Aemond knows things about Lucerys now. How he cried when overstimulated, when Aemond
fucked him through his orgasm. How he loved to have Aemond’s head between his legs, licking
him from his pretty cock to his cunt. How he had a small mole on his inner thigh, as well as behind
the tantalising curve of his ear.

He knows how Lucerys wishes Arrax would heal quickly, as he desires to take the babe on his first
flight. He knows how Lucerys has thoughts of naming the babe, if a boy, Jacaerys.

They had flown into an argument then, as Aemond reasoned with the omega that the name was not
even a Targaryen one, that it was in bad conscience to name the babe after the recently deceased.
Only for Lucerys to glower angrily at him in response.

“I am the one growing the babe, husband. Hence it will be me who will decide their name.”

Aemond had fallen into silence, incensed by his husband’s quick dismissal. Secretly, the alpha had
already chosen two names for the pup, one if they were a boy and one if they were a girl, inspired
by the books on old Valyria that he had read.

Despite his mate’s hatred of the weather, winter, by far, was Aemond’s favourite season of the
year.

He harked back to the times he and his siblings would run through the snow whenever the winter
months graced them in the Red Keep. Shrieking as they chased each other through the snow, balls
of ice in their hands, as the cold wind cut at their faces.

His ever-stoic mother had surprisingly joined in as well, as she chased her children through the
cold, as she caught Aemond in a fit of giggles as they fell to the soft, snow-laden ground.

The year his eye had been cut out, the winter months had been unforgiving. The icy wind had
pierced into his partially healed wound unforgivingly when he had stepped out of the warmth of
the Red Keep.

As if they had sensed the festering anguish within Aemond, Helaena and Aegon proceeded to
make exclamations about how dirty the snow looked, and how grey the clouds had grown. Helaena
had pulled him into her rooms, where she shared the new addition to her collection with him, a red
centipede. Aegon had screamed when she had placed it on his arm, which sent Aemond into bouts
of laughter. The very thought of them had a lump forming in his throat.
He was then startled out of his intrusive thoughts, as the loud shout of Lyonel reverberated through
the forest grounds, signalling the start of the hunt.

On his haunches, Aemond prepared himself to bolt into the forest, his alpha howling in insistence,
wanting to get the largest kill, to show those in the Hightower party that the King was stronger
than ever and not to be trifled with.

A small, traitorous part of Aemond, wanted to get the best furs for Lucerys, for his omega to wear,
to adorn his belly that was now swelling in the most captivating way.

“My King. I wish to join you.” A small, steady voice sounded from behind him.

“No, nephew. I forbid it. You are pregnant, it is not safe for you to participate in the hunt with
child.” He said stonily, as he met with the glare of his indignant husband.

Lucerys looked divine, much to his exasperation. His husband was cloaked in the most opulent of
furs, as they draped down his small frame, framing his belly and wore the brown hunting boots
Aemond had insisted the tailor line with fur.

Despite the cold, the omega had left his neck barren, his mating mark shining against the white of
the forest floors. Aemond felt his face burn, as he eyed the numerous love bites that were scattered
around the mark, placed by him just the night before.

His nephew was insatiable in his pregnancy, and ever since the night at the brothel, they had
copulated numerous times.

They had all but christened the many rooms of the Hightower castle, much to the dismay of the
servants and knights, as loud cries and growls reverberated through the castle throughout the days
and nights that passed. Aemond had never been one who indulged excessively in his lust, but with
Lucerys, all his inhibitions fell away with the mere tilt of his nephew's face, the darting of his pink
tongue, licking his lips.

Aemond felt deranged, crazed even. The omega had occupied his every thought; the honeyed
brown of his eyes, the allure of his back, even the image of the boy’s smile was seared into his
brain.
The fool had even occupied his dreams, dreams that had been haunted by his late family for the
past few years. Dreams that were now filled with a laughing Lucerys, surrounded by blonde-haired
children with dark eyes.

“That is why husband, I will be coming with you.” Lucerys shouted from behind him, as he ran
after Aemond, falling in step next to the alpha, much to his disgruntlement.

Hunting with Lucerys had the alpha wearied. The omega, due to his pregnancy, ambled slowly
along the snow-fallen path, as he squawked at the alpha to slow down.

Despite the various archery trainings Aemond recalled Lucerys and himself taking part in as
youths, the boy was hopeless at the bow, cursing loudly whenever his arrows missed the rabbits
they stumbled upon.

His attempts were endearing in their own way however, as his cheeks flushed with exertion, the
scowl on his face was evident as he missed another shot by a considerable margin.

“Stop smiling, Aemond. It is not funny.” Lucerys had snarled as the alpha covered his mouth to
hide a barely concealed smirk.

Aemond suddenly heard a rumbling, as the snow beneath their feet began to vibrate. The alpha
turned around, trying to locate where the sudden quake was coming from. He could feel Lucerys
clinging onto his arm, clutching him as if he would disappear at any moment.

As he placed his hand on his sword, Blackfyre twisting in his hand as he stroked Lucerys’s arm,
urging him to keep still, to remain calm. For a moment it stops, the air is silent again, but Aemond
does not release his breath yet.

The giant creature then made its presence known with a loud roar, as a black bear emerged from
the white of the forest, before its eyes met with Aemond’s.

He pushed Lucerys behind him, as he urged the omega to run behind the tree, as he wielded the
sword in his hand.
The thrum of war was now roaring in his veins, in his blood. Aemond had missed this, missed the
thrill that battle had brought him. The bear standing before him was large, the biggest he had ever
seen, as it snarled at him with several rows of teeth.

He recalled his mother telling him stories of her youth when she held him by the burning fireplace,
stories of her young female alpha companion, who had gifted her beautiful furs after every hunt she
embarked on, much to her delight. Aemond listened, riveted by her story, as he asked his mother
what happened to the alpha in question. The scent of sadness then tinged in his mother’s scent, as
she buried her face in his hair.

The coat of brown, thick fur that covered its looming form would be perfect for the furs he wanted
to gift to Lucerys. Perhaps he would even have a coat made for the babe as well, the bear was
definitely big enough. He could already imagine Lucerys and the babe donned in matching coats as
they presented the child at court.

Aemond felt his lips curl up into a smile, as his face lit up in the face of a long-awaited challenge,
as he pulled Blackfyre from his hip.

The bear did not wait a second, as it charged at him, spurred on by the smell of potential prey.
Aemond gripped his sword as he moved forward. He dodged the clumsy attack of the creature,
ignoring its loud roar of pain, as he plunged his sword into its neck.

The creature all but screamed, becoming angrier, more vicious, as it struggled as Aemond plunged
his sword deeper, only removing it when the bear charged at him again with its teeth. Shifting his
movements, he held the sword up, and stuck it right into the roof of its mouth, impaling the mouth
of the animal.

Letting out a growl of defeat, the bear then collapsed to the ground with a whimper, as Aemond slit
its neck with finality, granting it a swift death.

“Aemond?” The small, trembling voice of his omega sounded from behind him, as he whipped
around to see Lucerys staring in horror, jaw slacked at the sight of him, at the sight of the dead bear
bloodied on the floor.

Aemond must have looked a fright. He grimaced, as he attempted to wipe the blood from the bear
that had splattered onto his face, onto his silver hair.
Breaking out of his stupor, Lucerys instead surged toward him, knocking Aemond to the ground
with the force of his crashing body, as the two tumbled to the snowy ground.

The scent of the sea in the air was strong, combined with the bloodied scent of the bear. His feral
scent, thrumming with the heat of the kill must have smelt overpowering, as Lucerys buried his
head in his neck, as he hugged Aemond close, pressing the heat of their bodies together.

He could smell the worry, the fear and desperation in the omega’s scent slowly disappear, as they
languidly kissed on the forest floor. The pads of Lucerys’s fingers traced his cheeks, his hair, as the
omega’s scent slowly seeped into one of pride and happiness.

The snow under him was cold, but the warmth that spread through Aemond’s body, through his
heart, seemed to be enough for now, as he kissed Lucerys back.

Lucerys rolled Aemond atop him, as he began to quickly fumble with the Alpha’s breeches, an
animalistic look in his eyes as Aemond started to pant heavily.

Not wanting them to couple on the cold ground, for the sake of the babe, Aemond tightened his
hold on the omega, as he lifted him with a squeal, pushing him against the tree, as he crowded him
in.

“Does it turn you on that much, Lucerys? To see your alpha bloodied and battered for you.”
Aemond growled out, as he sucked deep and hard at the juncture of the boy’s neck and shoulder.

He could feel Lucerys’s cunt slicken as the omega’s mouth chased his lips greedily. Aemond
kissed him ravenously, as if he had been left to starve, as his nephew mewled and arched up into
his hungry body. His mate’s scent was so strong, and he was unable to smell anything other than
the heady scent of the sea, leaving him stunned in the rush of it.

“Fuck” Aemond moaned, as his fingers dug into his nephew’s arse, as he pushed the folds of his
cunt apart. Lucerys whined in embarrassment as Aemond’s fingers pushed into his dripping heat.
“You are so fucking wet.”

“Wet for you, Alpha. Only you.” Lucerys gasped out, as his eyes squeezed shut, as Aemond’s
name fell from his lips in a whining lilt, as he came with a cry, his release coating the alpha’s
fingers.
Aemond came quickly after, the sight of his omega writhing in ecstasy too much to bear, as his
cock spurted with cum onto Lucerys’s trembling thighs.

At the corner of his eyes, he could see moonblooms growing, flowers from Oldtown that he
remembered seeing in his youth. He made a quick note to come back to the spot, as he and his
nephew breathed in unison.

The feast commenced immediately upon their return, with the Hightower Lords and Ladies reacting
to the bear with equal amounts of shock and reverence.

It was uncommon for royals to go hunting alone, and in Aemond’s case with his pregnant mate.
But the alpha had never liked hunting with knights and servants, always preferring to go alone,
even as a youth.

He could feel Lucerys radiating with pride beside him, the scent of the sea flooding Aemond’s
mind. The boy had looked at him in such awe after he had slain the bear, despite his bloodied state.

Aemond wanted to take him properly, wanted to feel the tightness of his cunt, wanted to touch the
swell of his belly. Perhaps when they were back in their bedchambers. He composed himself with
such thoughts. There was still a feast to be had.

“Your Grace. I am astonished by the size of the kill that you brought back. A King you are
indeed!” Lyonel Hightower had thumped on the back, as he let out a hearty guffaw. His advisors
laughed nervously as Aemond nodded his head acknowledgement.

His inquisitive mate was unforgiving in all senses of the world, as if seeing the fear in Lyonel’s
advisor's eyes, the boy had sat himself down next to one of the beta Hightower advisors as he
began to debate the trembling man over the rates the Hightowers were charging to the crown for
various goods.

Before Aemond could take his place next to Lucerys, there was a soft tap on his back.
“My Grace! I’m sorry I haven’t spoken to you. I was caught up with my lessons for the past
week.”

It was Lysa, the red-headed omega girl, the girl from his childhood, as she greeted Aemond, a wide
smile on her face.

She was clad in furs as well, as her deep green dress swished in the winter wind. He felt a feeling
of fondness, remembrance of his childhood, as she grabbed his arm and sat him next to her.

Lysa had rattled onto him about how the towns of Oldtown had changed, about how they had
remodelled the Citadel only recently. Aemond felt himself flush at the mention of the High Septon,
as the memories of him and Lucerys’s coupling came rushing back to him in full force. How wet
Lucerys’s cunt had felt, how beautiful he had looked in his blue dress.

He found himself unable to concentrate on Lysa’s words, as he sneaked a glance at his nephew.

To his surprise, Lucerys was picking at his food, as he moved the fine meats and potatoes around
his plate as the advisor next to him attempted to engage him in conversion. The boy’s face was a
pale white and his lips were downturned, a heavy contrast to the pretty red that had painted his
cheeks in the woods.

Aemond felt anxiousness surge within him, as he stood abruptly, to the surprise of Lysa, as he
made a quick run toward the forest.

Once he had retrieved the flowers, he planned to excuse himself and Lucerys from the feast. The
omega’s lack of appetite and pale face frightened him, and he wanted to bring the omega back to
their bedchambers to be checked properly by the Maester.

The flowers were pretty, delicate-looking things, small but painted in a brilliant dark blue, similar
to the Velaryon colours that Lucerys used to wear. Perhaps the baby would enjoy them as well,
Aemond thought, pleased with himself, as he placed the flowers in his pocket gently.

“Aemond, I mean your Grace. I was worried!” Pattering of footsteps came from behind him as
Lysa came into view.

Aemond only replied with a grunt, as he hastened his steps, wanting to get back to Lucerys, to
bring him back to the comforts of their bedchambers. The omega must have been tired, he groused.
He should not have allowed him to hunt with him, it was a foolish misstep on his part.

“Please wait, your Grace.” Lysa exclaimed as she all but stood in front of him.

“I will miss you so much, Aemond, when you go back to court. It truly isn’t the same. It really does
feel different now that you are mated and married!” Lysa said, her eyes red-rimmed and she
barrelled into Aemond for a hug.

Aemond wanted to push her away as he felt his hands twitch at his sides, as his face twisted in
annoyance. He hated people touching him. Only family was allowed, and even in the later stages of
the war when Aegon had placed a hand on his shoulder, he had flinched away in grief, overcome
by the extent of the atrocities that they had committed.

Before he could make his move, Lysa screamed, as she fell to the floor, as blood started to pool
around her.

Aemond looked on in disbelief as the girl started to cry, her leg pierced by an arrow, as she writhed
on the floor in agony.

He knelt down, as he called loudly for the guards, as he tried to stop the bleeding with his hand.

As he looked forward, he saw Lucerys, holding his bow in his hand as he glared at Aemond,
looking beautiful, crazy and delirious, his cheeks reddened from exertion as he stared at the alpha
in defiance.

As the guards started to filter in to help Lysa, Aemond all but lunged toward the omega. His heart
thrummed incessantly in his chest, as if it was about to burst out at any moment. He was seeing
red. Lysa, although annoying, had done nothing to the omega and the alpha felt his skin prickle
with rage as he grabbed Lucerys’s arms.

“What did you do?” He thundered, his grip tight on Lucerys’s arms, as rage overcame his entire
being.

Lucerys’s eyes filled with unshed tears, his eyes wet, as Aemond shouted at him. The boy was
trembling, he realised, shaking like a leaf as he bit his lips, hard enough to draw blood. Aemond
 could already see the tinges of red that surrounded the edges of his mouth, as the omega proceeded
to grip his stomach in fear.

The omega wrenched his hand from Aemond’s grip, his face suddenly becoming pale, paler than it
had been before.

Then with one step backwards, he crumpled like a puppet onto the white sheets of snow,
motionless.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all for the lovely comments and kudos from the previous chapter! I'm
actually so touched and overwhelmed at the reception this fic is getting.

Luke hunting rabbits:

( ️_ ️)
(◕_ ️)

Luke hunting Lysa:

( ️_ ️)
\(◕_ ️)/

Aemond is in trouble guys...

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter! I was a bit nervous about putting it
out so here it is❤️
 devotion
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Lucerys lay in the bed, face ashen as he breathed shallowly. The boy’s eyes had not opened, not
even the trace of a flutter, for the past hour. Aemond felt sick to his stomach, as his gut clenched
threateningly. He held the omega’s hand as if it was the only anchor that was keeping him sane.

As he glanced out of the window, he only saw darkness, the stars hung out for all to see.

He had always enjoyed the stars in Oldtown, twinkling bright in the night sky, unlike that of King’s
Landing, where the haze in the skies covered the lights. It was an experience that he always looked
forward to when visiting the town, one that he hoped his babe would experience as well.

The Maester, the one Lucerys had thankfully brought from the Red Keep for their journey, had
finally cleared his throat, as he assured him that the Queen had fainted due to stress and shock, and
the babe was fine.

Aemond inwardly berated himself for having allowed the boy to have even participated in the hunt
at all, for shouting for Lucerys for shooting the damned girl. A selfish, twisted part of him would
have allowed the boy to shoot a thousand men if it meant for his safety and that of the babe he
carried.

The attendants around them who tended to Lucerys with hot towels and herbs had all but dispersed,
heads low in chatter, as they threw furtive glances toward their King, who had his head bent, as
anxiety coursed through his veins.

Upon seeing that they were finally alone, the Maester then whispered to Aemond that Lucerys had
been lucky, that he had ingested only a trace of nightshade. Had it been any more, both the babe
and the omega might have found themselves in mortal peril.

Horror sunk to the crevices of Aemond’s bones, as the information from the Maester sunk in. He
felt dizzy, and a rancid smell started to permeate the air, as he gripped his sheathed sword.

He could hear his pulse pounding in his ears, fury boiled through his veins, as the all-familiar
bloodlust hammered through him. The handle of Blackfyre seemed too short, the length of the
blade a far cry from what he needed it to be. To be long enough to bleed everyone in the Hightower
Castle dry.

His vision had started to blur, red-tinged the edges of his sanity as he felt himself stand. It must
have been one of the Lord’s advisors, he thought, as he mapped out the very rooms they had taken
residence in.

“Your Grace, the Queen has awoken.” The Maester said softly as he made haste to leave the room.
The heavy door closed with a decisive thump, as Aemond met eyes with his nephew.

Lucerys’s eyes were glimmering as his dark gaze burned into Aemond. Thankfully, colour had
started to return to the boy’s cheeks, as Aemond tempered down the rage that had steadily begun to
build.

His omega was safe, his babe was safe. He desperately wanted to scent the boy, wanted to hold
him and the baby close. His alpha all but howled in sorrow, as he slowly inched his fingers toward
his mate.

“Don’t you dare touch me.” Lucerys hissed, as he bared his teeth at the alpha.

Anguish flashed through the bond, as Aemond recoiled back, as he tried to compose himself, in
spite of the grief that had struck him unexpectedly when he heard those cold words.

“Are you feeling better, husband? Is the baby alright?” Aemond said softly, as he drank in the sight
of the omega.

“Do not worry for me, uncle. The babe is fine. I wish to be left alone now.” The omega bit out
stonily, as he stared at the ceiling above him, avoiding Aemond’s gaze.

“I am your mate,” Aemond said, as his voice croaked. He could feel his throat clog up, as it took
every ounce of his resolve to keep going. “I get to worry for you.”

He could feel his heart crack as he laid his feelings bare, hoping the omega would accept it, as a
form of apology for what had transpired during the hunt.
A harsh pain bloomed across Aemond’s cheek, as he was met with a Lucerys, who was now sitting
upright, who heaved loudly, a snarl on his beautiful face. The face of the boy he longed to see,
longed to hold, who tread in thoughts, in his dreams.

‘My mate? You are no mate of mine, Aemond. Go play with your whores, I’m sure you have
many, crawling in this foul castle. See if I care.”

The boy continued on, not giving Aemond the chance to reply.

“Once the babe is born, I will take them to Dragonstone. You can rule alone as King.” Lucerys
said, apathy and indifference painting his tone, as he looked away from the alpha.

The omega’s words rang through his ears like a taunt, like a curse. It felt as though concrete had
begun to dry in his chest, it felt hard to breathe. The boy’s impish grin when Aemond gifted him
the furs, the lemon cakes. The omega’s soft cries when Aemond fucked him. Loved him. It all
seemed like a mirage, hopeless.

“Is that why you have been trying to soften me the past few weeks, nephew? Is that the only
reason?”

He felt as though his throat was closing up, as his voice shook, laden with despair.

Aemond could not bear to look at the boy. He felt lost, adrift, as he baulked away from his
nephew, nausea rising in his throat.

He didn't make it a step away before Lucerys was standing, catching him by the wrist as he pulled
Blackfyre from Aemond’s waist.

The scent of the sea had turned putrid, rotten, as the boy held the blade to Aemond’s throat, tracing
it over the skin of his neck, softly, mockingly.

“Perhaps I could be done with you here, uncle. I have your child, I have my heir. I have no need for
you.”
“Be done with me then, Lucerys. There is no place for me here, not if you take the baby away. I
have nothing to live for.”

It pained Aemond to say those words, but the truth of them rang in his ears, as the lump in his
throat now weighed heavier than it did before, as he looked down upon the boy.

The omega’s hand was quivering, and his eyes, eyes that Aemond thought he could see into the
soul of, eyes that had been directed at him, with rage, want and joy, welled with unshed tears as he
brought the blade closer to the alpha’s throat.

Aemond squeezed his eyes shut, as he placed his hands in his pockets. The faces of his family
flashed in his mind, like a whirlwind. His mother, when she tended to his wounded flesh, when she
defended him at the cost of her life. Aegon, when he sparred with a frustrated, shaken Aemond day
on end after his eye was taken, as he allowed him to get used to his blind side. Helaena and
Daeron, when they said he looked princely, beautiful even, in Helaena’s words, when his sapphire
eye was first placed.

Lucerys, the boy who blinded him, the boy who smited him, who was the cause of all the
memories of his family that Aemond clung to so dearly. The omega who made Aemond’s stomach
twist at the thought of, who made his heart beat heavy and bright in his chest, with emotions that
consumed him, that scared him.

He could feel the wilted moonblooms in his pocket.

The blade cut slightly into his throat now, as Aemond braced himself for the inevitable. He only
hoped his child would have a better life than him, that they wouldn't be tainted by the darkness that
seemed to follow him, and that Lucerys would love them in spite of it all.

The small, unsure voice of Lucerys then chimed out, the boy sounding as if it hurt him to say the
words.

“Do you like her? This Lysa.”

I like you, only you. I like you so much. My thoughts of you never end.

“Are you mad, Lucerys? I am a married man, with no such taste for such depravity. She hugged me
first in the damned woods. It was unwanted. I would have you know that I meant my vows when I
said them in front of the Seven. I-”

Aemond’s monologue was cut short when the pressure from his throat released, as the
bloodstained knife clattered to the ground.

Tears were now flowing from the boy’s eyes, as he ran his small fingers over Aemond’s neck, as if
a coil had been released, as agitation and relief alike thrummed through their tense bond.

The omega’s arms were now locked around his neck, as his legs wrapped around his waist. He
pushed his face into Aemond’s bloodied neck, as he breathed in the scent of the alpha.

Aemond could feel his tears, wet against his throat, as he scented the omega back aggressively. His
teeth nipped against his nephew’s neck, as his nose dragged insistently across his skin.

It startled him, shocked him unpleasantly to see his mate, with all his smug smiles and fits of rage,
spilling over like a cup overflowing, incapable of consolation. It was overwhelming in every way,
and the alpha could feel his chest shudder, heave, ache.

Hurt and relief clash inside him, and Lucerys only clings to him tighter, until he is hiccuping
through his tears, trembling in his arms. It was as if the boy had been holding on to this for a long
time, as his body continued to be wracked with sobs.

“I am sorry, husband,” Aemond said, breathless, “I am so sorry.”

For what, he was apologising for, exactly, he did not know.

For allowing himself to be put in a compromising position with Lysa, for making Lucerys anxious
about his place on the throne. Anxious about his position as Queen.

For the feelings he dared not tell the omega he had for him, dared not burden him with, lest he
shattered the already fragile relationship, one that had been painstakingly built the past few
moons.
Lucerys’s fingers only gripped at Aemond firmly, as he breathed unevenly, attempting to calm
himself down. He fell quiet against the alpha, sobs dying down to small, stifled sniffles, as
Aemond held him, arm wrapped around him, unwilling to let him go.

He carried the omega to the bed, undressed him into his nightclothes and bundled the languorous
boy in furs. They tangle their legs together, as his nephew pillows his face into the crook of his
neck. He can hear the omega’s heartbeat, steady as it lulls him to sleep.

“Don’t be foolish, Aemond. You cannot possibly think that is a good idea.”

Lucerys had awoken when Aemond had dressed in his battalion gear, sword sheathed in his hand,
as he prepared to round the Hightower advisors up, to question them staunchly on the nightshade
found in the Queen’s food.

His omega, his baby, had been in danger. It took all of Aemond’s constraint not to paint the entire
party that had been present at the hunt with the stickiness of their blood. His alpha roared in
agreement as he readied himself to leave the room.

“Leave me be, nephew. The cretin who did this shall pay.” Aemond growled in protest, as Lucerys
rose from the bed, and all but pulled him back down into the soft sheets.

“We are heavily outnumbered here, husband. Leave this issue to me. Once we return to the Red
Keep, I will send an army to deal with them.”

Aemond only hummed in response, as he let his insolent husband tug and stroke his pale hair. He
had thoughts of cutting it soon, and reminded himself to ask the boy about his thoughts once they
were back in the safety of the Red Keep.

The room was shrouded in darkness, and there wasn’t much light out. The sky still painted a
gloomy grey.

He had awoken with gauze on his neck, plastered carefully, with ointment applied, and on further
inspection, saw the roll and scissors next to the bedside of the omega, who slept deeply with
rumbling breaths beside him.
It was as if the hardheaded omega was trying as well, to apologise in his own small way.

He felt his heart clench in his chest, as Lucerys let out a hum of contentment, as his hands
continued to twist in the alpha’s locks.

The peace of the morning, and the sound of their quiet breaths, were then broken by the audacious
fool’s list of demands. To have Lysa executed and Lyonel questioned, to have the Citadel moved
elsewhere, anywhere but Oldtown.

The demands were preposterous, even for the boy, and had the alpha’s head reeling. Aemond could
feel his patience wane, it was as if the omega had all but forgotten the precocious state he and the
babe were in the night before.`

In Oldtown, he could see the life that had outlived his mother. It thrummed in every detail, from
the landscape of the castle’s rooms, to the Hightower green that draped from the walls, to the
corridors his mother had said she played in as a child. A small, traitorous part of him was still
hesitant to lay ruin to the city she used to call home.

“Like I said, husband, you don’t need to worry yourself with such trivialities. I will take the steps to
ensure this is done.”

He grunted in response to his waffling mate as he placed his hand over the omega’s rounded
stomach, caressing it softly with his gloved hands.

The hands in his hair stilled, then squeezed at the base of his skull, as the omega let out a soft
whine as Aemond continued to stroke his stomach, full with child, their child.

Their tongues meet in a soft press then, their want was palpable and much desired. Aemond could
feel his alpha growl in contentment, as the omega’s tongue licked along the seams of his lips.

His nephew melted into him, as their kisses grew in fervour, as the omega’s whines grew louder, as
Aemond kissed him harder.

Before he knew it, Lucerys’s legs were wrapped around his waist, as he sucked his tongue into his
mouth, leaving Aemond panting with want, his arousal burning in his gut, slow and steady.

“Husband, we need to stop,” Aemond whispered, as he pulled away from his exasperated nephew,
who grumbled in protest.

“Alpha, want you.” he gasped, as he placed his hand on Aemond’s breeches, giving his already
straining cock a squeeze.

“Do not test me, nephew. You are recovering, I will not have you until the Maester confirms that
you and the babe are fully settled.” Aemond said, his voice strained, his eyes pleading.

The omega went silent, and Aemond sighed in relief, as he went back to tracing the boy’s swollen
belly. The baby was growing big, now that Lucerys was entering his fourth moon. Pride coursed
through his being when he gazed upon the life that they had created together, as he felt his eyes
flutter, closing in sleep once again.

The smell of slick, of the sea addled with milk, then permeated the room, and he turned his gaze
downward, only to see his nephew pleasuring himself with needy wails, the sounds of his slick-
covered fingers moving through his wet heat reverberating in Aemond’s ears.

“Aemond, please. I need you. The baby needs you. They want their alpha close.”

Aemond shuddered in want, bending his head down, as he licked into the omega’s tantalising heat
with a groan.

They had departed from Oldtown on the same day, leaving with their party in a flurry, hastily, not
wanting to draw the attention of the spurned Hightower Lord.

The impertinent thing had insisted Aemond share his quarters in the ship with him, and had
squirrelled his belongings into the alpha’s space, much to his chagrin.

Lucerys had commanded the small bed, as he delegated Aemond to a mattress on the floor. The
 small quarters were now filled with the omega’s knick-knacks, from his perfumed oils to his
decadent powders.

When the boy first entered, he had spotted the books that Aemond had brought on the ship. To the
alpha’s dismay, the book about child rearing was displayed on the top of the pile, heavily tagged
and annotated with notes he had taken. This led to a frantic tussle as Aemond had all but grabbed
the book, as he held it high above his head, not allowing the omega to reach the damning material.

Lucerys had squeezed his sides, forcing laughter out of the alpha, until they fell into a panting heap
on the ground. What happened next had his cheeks flushed in memory, as he proceeded to have the
omega on the floor, as the boy bounced on his cock, the fight over the book all but forgotten.

They spoke more now, about their hopes and dreams for the future, about their child, as they gazed
upon the stars that twinkled from the roaring sea below them.

Lucerys had professed his want for a party to be held on their return, to celebrate his milestone into
his fourth moon of pregnancy, while Aemond had begrudgingly agreed. He hated parties, but
wanted to see Lucerys smile as brightly as he did when Aemond had killed the black bear.

Despite sleeping on the floor, despite the space having been little. Aemond felt an exuberance, a
calm contentment.

It was as if the boy had the ability to dredge up feelings in him that he didn’t know existed.

It was a scary thing, to have his emotions anchored on someone like Lucerys, who seemed so
close, yet so out of reach at the same time.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for the wonderful comments and kudos on the previous
chapter!

Guards outside the door the next day after the big fight:

( ️_ ️)
(◕_ ️)
❓
Our Aemond finally understands his feelings now :') Party in the next chapter!

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, I love reading them all!❤️
 envy
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The music strummed in the royal gardens as Aemond surveyed his surroundings. The lords and
ladies that they had invited were in full attendance, dressed decadently in fine silks and fabrics that
contrasted pleasantly with the garden’s landscape, as they traipsed the carefully prepared feast set
up by the royal garden keepers.

Their return to the Red Keep was one his mate found much joy in. Despite the charm of Oldtown’s
winters, they were harsh and unforgiving, especially for the pregnant omega, whose belly hung
heavily from his small frame.

Lucerys had ordered for the feast celebrating his fourth moon of pregnancy to be held in the
gardens, as he groused about much of a bore it would have been to have the feast within the stuffy
castle walls when the weather that had graced King’s Landing was one to revel in.

The boy was right. The autumn season of King’s Landing was beautiful. The bushels in the royal
gardens burst with sweet herbs and wildflowers, with the occasional rabbits being found grazing in
the grass. The gardens were now filled with plum and pear trees, a lush fruit harvest among the
tender green leaves.

The joyfulness of the celebration and the lush surroundings did nothing to calm the uneasiness that
had settled in Aemond’s gut.

His mate had been attached to the side of the Lord of Winterfell since the man had stepped into the
gardens, donned in his signature furs and his bearded wide smile. They had sat together during the
feast, deep in conversation as Aemond picked at his food sullenly.

Lucerys looked ever the picture of omega splendour, dressed in a flowing white blouse with a
neckline that accentuated the silver Valaryian jewellery which shone against the stark red of his
bonding mark.

The alpha clung to this fact with desperation, as he stared upon the boy’s mating bite. The fact that
Lucerys was his mate and pregnant with his child. It was the only thing that kept his sanity, that
kept him from mauling Stark in the very gardens, to paint the greenery as red as the flowers that
bloomed above.
They looked good together. His nephew grinned and laughed boisterously at what the northern
wolf had to say, his eyes sparkling with glee as Cregan made an expression with his fingers, which
sent the two into hysterics.

Aemond could never make him smile like that, could never make him laugh like that. He took a
swig of his wine, as the bitterness in his blood began to ebb through his veins.

Helaena and Aegon always joked that he needed to smile more, lest he scared away the ladies of
the court. Jaehaera then went on to turn his lips up with her tiny hands, “Smile, Uncle!” she
babbled happily as Aemond couldn't help but hug her to his chest. The memory of her sent a
painful pang through his gut.

Their return from Oldtown had marked a change in their relationship. They still bickered over the
most menial of things, from the affairs of the council to the dinner they wished to be served.
Lucerys had insisted on the most dubious of combinations, assuaging the alpha that the baby
craved for it. A particular dish of sweet cream and hog had the alpha grimacing just at its mere
memory.

"You should try this as well, husband," Lucerys had said enthusiastically, shoving the convoluted
creamy mixture in front of his face, urging Aemond to open his mouth. Aemond had tried it
reluctantly, not wanting to upset him, only to spit the nauseating meal out of his mouth, as Lucerys
shouted in inigation beside him.

They now took frequent walks in the garden, arm in arm, which often ended in various positions of
compromise on the grass, much to the dismay of the garden keepers. They escaped to the markets
of King’s Landing in disguise, where they watched offensive plays and kissed furiously in dark
alleyways.

Aemond had commissioned clothes and shoes for the babe from the royal tailors, which hung in
their bedchambers, next to the small coat of brown fur made from the bear he had hunted in
Oldtown.

He had held the coat reverently when it was presented to him. It felt so small in his large hands,
and only made this alpha howl with the urge to protect the baby, to protect his mate.

Following the poisoning attempt in Oldtown, not one but two tasters had been installed at the
Queen’s side. Aemond trailed the omega wherever he went, despite Lucerys protests, the scare still
fresh in his mind.

He was curious about the plans Lucerys had for house Hightower, but when he questioned his
nephew, he was only met with vague answers and a tight smile.

The alpha would have all but fallen apart if anything had happened to his nephew and the babe.

A foolish part of him had begun to hope the omega had started to grow feelings beyond what was
expected of them. As he looked upon him and Lord Stark in their bubble, wrapped up in the
presence of each other, sorrow filled his bones as he realised his budding wish had faded as quickly
as it came.

Lucerys to him, was akin to the sun, the most loved son of his father’s only daughter. He deserved
someone like the Wolf of Winterfell. Someone untainted with the wickedness and savagery that
flowed through him. Someone unscarred, someone who could make him beam in his full glory.

Aemond could not be that for him. Could never be that for him. The scar that ran down the socket
of his eye and the hauntings of the war that plagued his sleep was evidence enough.

“Your Grace, it is lovely to see you again.”

He was brought out of the darkness of his musings and turned to meet with the blue-eyed gaze of
one Cerelle Lannister.

Aemond’s cheeks started to burn with abashment, as the blonde-haired beta let out a striking peal
of laughter.

He could see Lucerys gazing at them in the corner of his eye, the omega with a look of confusion
painted on his pretty face.

“No need to look so startled, your Grace. I am here to congratulate you on the pregnancy of your
mate on behalf of the Lannister house. May the follies of our childhoods be forgotten!”

The alpha relaxed, upon hearing those words, as he and Cerelle fell into comfortable conversation.
The beta girl was as tall and wispy as she had been as a youth, her willowed frame decorated with a
sea-green dress. Long hair flowed down her back, with flowers woven into her small braids.

Cerelle had been a lady who often visited the court with her late father in his youth. Her comeliness
had many of the young alphas in the court stunned despite her beta status, with her attention vyed
for days on end.

Aegon had all but throttled him in jealousy when he discerned that the girl had been sneaking into
his chambers late at night, much to Aemond’s nefarious glee. His brother had chased him through
the halls, brandishing his sword as he scrambled away in amusement. The memory brought a brief
tilt to the side of his lips before he composed himself.

The couplings with the blonde-haired girl had been awkward and unsatisfying, fuelled only by the
curiosities that youth had brought them. They were nothing like what he had with Lucerys, where
his blood was set aflame, burning him from the inside out, even with the mere press of their lips,
the touch of their hands.

However, it was a sick form of solace to him, something that he clung onto, the knowledge that a
lady so sought after still chose him above her various suitors, despite the state of his maimed face.

They spoke on Cerelle’s new betrothment, with Aemond congratulating her heartily, as he nodded
his head in acknowledgement when she stated her want for children with her future lord husband.

Their conversation flowed easily, unbridled by the familiarity from their youth. However, it was a
cheap distraction from his husband, whom Aemond could not help but compare to the blonde girl.

Cerelle was all sharp lines and light hair, long-limbed even as she stood next to Aemond. These
were traits that had emboldened him, and excited him as a youth. Yet all he wanted now was
Lucerys, the petite boy with dark hair, heavy with his child, whose eyes twinkled with mischief,
whose mouth curled in the meanest of smiles, who looked like the most beautiful creature he had
ever laid his eyes on.

Thankfully, he did not have to endure looking upon his mate and the intolerable Lord Stark much
longer, for the feast had come to an end.

Aemond watched as Lucerys embraced the wolf of Winterfell as they bade their farewells. He
tempered down the infernal rage that had begun to build within him. The wolf had touched the
baby, his baby and his alpha was howling in agony, in despair. He dug his nails into his palms,
hard enough to draw blood as he took deep breaths to calm himself.

He could not bear to scare away Lucerys, not when the peace of their marriage hung on a thread so
fine, where even the brief whisperings of the wind could break what they had built.

“Husband, Cregan and I have decided that a betrothal between House Stark and House Targaryen
has been a long-awaited one. A marriage pact between one of our daughters and Lord Stark’s son
would be a judicious one, to strengthen our allyship with the North.”

Agitation swirls through him, heavy and red like a vice. He had tolerated his mate’s incessant
ramblings on Stark, even as they readied themselves for bed. The boy had spoken reverently about
the wolf, about his exploits and adventures in the North with Jacaerys, his eyes shining in delight as
he recanted to Aemond the tales the blasted wolf had shared.

“You are a vile thing, nephew. The babe has yet to be born, and here you are making arrangements
for their marriage.”

The thought of his daughter being betrothed, her fate being sealed to a mere Lord of the North, had
his blood pound in infuriation. This, coupled with the idea that they would be further tied to Cregan
Stark, had his stomach twist in dismay.

The wedding of Aegon and Helaena materialised in his mind: The bloodshot eyes of his sister and
brother, as they were carried off with raucous cheers to their bedchambers. It was the day things
had changed between the siblings, as the relationship between the married couple disintegrated to
the point of no return.

Lucerys’s face soured, his small smile all but disappearing as he stared the alpha straight on, his
eyes narrowing dangerously.

“I am not sure what has happened to you, to speak to me with such disdain. But I will not allow you
to take it out on me.”
The omega still stunk of the Stark Lord, the woodsy briney scent drifting off his skin in waves. It
drove Aemond mad, the need to scent his husband imminent as he heaved, as his hands shook by
his sides.

As if sensing his distress, Lucerys wordlessly brought his small hands forward, cradling Aemond’s
face into his neck, as the Alpha scented him desperately, inhaling the milk-addled sea scent of his
omega. He could feel the omega running his fingers through his hair, as his alpha finally began to
calm.

The tension in the room was palpable, crackling with intensity as Aemond began to suck bruises
onto his mate’s neck, his Alpha preening as Lucerys let out more whimpers of arousal.

“Wait, husband. May I ask you something?” Lucerys breathily moaned out, as Aemond continued
to nip at his neck.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement as he continued his ministrations on the boy’s collarbones.

“That girl you spoke to, from House Lannister, was she? Are you well acquainted with her? She
was quite fetching.”

“We were acquaintances in our youth, some silliness had occurred between us in the past, yes.”

Sated and pleased, surrounded by the scent of his omega, Aemond had warbled out his words,
saying whatever came to mind, as he proceeded to pull Lucerys in for a kiss.

“Silliness? What could you possibly mean by that, Aemond?” Lucerys pulled away, cocking his
head in confusion.

“It was all in the past, nephew. She is happily betrothed now as well.” the alpha gritted out softly
as he stroked the omega, relishing in the swell of his stomach. He did that, he thought smugly.
Cregan Stark might have been able to make the boy laugh, but it was his child Lucerys was heavy
with.

He swallows his nephew’s words with a deep kiss, taking his time to trace his cupid bow with his
tongue before he licks into the omega’s mouth. Their hips rolled in unison, as he felt himself
hardening painfully in his breeches. It is not nearly enough, they had too many layers between
them.

Aemond never initiated their couplings, but the surge of want and the unwelcome intrusion from
the Northern alpha had sent possessiveness thrumming through his veins.

He began to tug at Lucerys’s nightshirt, wanting it off, wanting to kiss his stomach and hold him
and the baby close.

“Aemond, I am not feeling so well.” the omega griped, as he dislodged himself from the alpha’s
arms, looking stricken for some reason, his mouth downturned, as he pulled his nightshirt down.
His face glowed a luscious pink, as he covered his body with his small arms.

It was as if the boy was hiding himself from him.

“Should I call for the Maester?” Aemond softly said, his heart turning in his chest, coldness
seeping through his veins.

“There is no need,” Lucerys said sadly, before he blew the candles out on the side of the bed,
enveloping them in darkness.

Aemond’s mind had gone hazy, the omega’s scent that surrounded him the only thing keeping him
grounded in reality. The lump in his throat, the stone that had begun to settle in the pit of his
stomach, weighed heavier than ever.

He couldn't stop himself from thinking that after having conversed with Cregan-after realising how
sordid and colourless a life with Aemond would be- Lucerys wouldn't want him anymore, the
thought cutting through him as sharp as a knife’s edge, leaving him breathless in agony.

The baby felt like a lifeline now, the only thing that kept him from losing himself completely to
sadness, as he closed his eyes, only to fall into a fitful sleep.

Aemond shifted in the bed, unwinding as he blinked the remnants of sleep from his eyes. His
mouth felt dry as he looked over his surroundings.

It was still early in the morning, with the sun having yet to rise over the horizon. The room was
cloaked in darkness, as the alpha prepared himself to fall back into slumber.

To his alarm, the warmth beside him had disappeared, as he touched the space beside him, only to
find it empty, devoid of the presence of his omega.

He had shot out of the bed then, as he stormed out of the room in a hurry, fear and grief clasping at
his chest as he shouted at the Kingsguard, demanding to know where the Queen had gone.

It was unlike Lucerys to leave the bed at such early hours. Heavy with child, the boy had often
complained about getting out of bed in the first place, and even took to eating in their chambers at
times.

“I deserve to rest, uncle. I am carrying your child, after all. Now would you mind asking the
servants for some spiced fruits?”

Much to his surprise, the wide-eyed knight shook with fear, as he informed Aemond that Lucerys
had gone to the dragon pit.

He made haste, unable to fight the regret that started to break into his soul. It was unfair of him to
expect Lucerys to feel the same. Someone as bright as the boy did'nt deserve to be darkened by the
likes of him. He was a fool to not know incompatibility when he saw it.

The very thought of Lucerys having to convince himself to love Aemond back, for the sake of the
crown, the sake of the babe, sickened him.

As he dashed into the dragon pit, he was greeted with the surprising sight of his mate.

Lucerys had dressed himself in his combat shirt and shorts, as he sprinted alongside the body of a
dozing Vhagar, whose breaths shook the ground beneath her. Arrax sat in observation, roaring out
in encouragement to the panting omega. The little dragon looked as though he wanted to join, but
was impeded by the injury that festered on his scaled foot.
 It was an endearing sight, one that Aemond would have enjoyed if the boy wasn’t heavily
pregnant.

“Lucerys!” He bellowed out, as his nephew turned, eyeing his mate in shock.

Vhagar had awoken as well, as she rumbled in acknowledgement, her wizened eyes set on
Aemond. Her wings were still pocketed and torn, much to his dismay, despite the various
ointments the dragon keepers had tried their hand at applying.

He all but broke out in a run towards his mate, as he fussed over him.

“Husband, you shouldn't be doing this. You are pregnant. This can’t be good for the babe.”
Aemond griped as he made the wheezing boy sit on the ground.

“The Maester said it was alright. Please do not worry for me.” Lucerys exclaimed, his cheeks and
exposed chest flushed a vermillion red as he breathed heavily on the stone ground.

Arrax let out a series of shrieks as he lay next to his rider, pushing his snout into the boy’s dark
hair.

“What even possessed you to do such a thing, boy? At such a late time as well?” Aemond fretted,
brows furrowing, as he used his sleeve to wipe the perspiration that had begun to drip from the
omega’s forehead.

He gulped as his eyes tracked the bead of sweat that ran down his neck, as he shook himself, guilty
at the sudden pang of lust that overcame him.

Lucerys looked nervous, the boy nibbled on his lip as his hazel eyes flickered up to Aemond
quickly, before he brought his gaze down, as he played with his hands.

“Do you still find me attractive, husband?”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for the comments and kudos! They really
keep me going

The Dragonpit:

( ️_ ️)
\(◕_ ️)/

Why was Luke upset?

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, I love reading them all!❤️
 hunger
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Aemond’s eye widened, disconcerted by his omega’s question.

Was the boy making a mockery of him? To have been scorned so plainly in their chambers was
mortifying in itself. The sheer audacity Lucerys had. It was as if the boy was taunting him, for
wanting more than he deserved, more than he dared ask for.

He let his gaze rake over the omega, flitting down to his swollen stomach and back up again, as
Lucerys began to fidget, his cheeks stained a violent red as he breathed in exertion.

“You make a jest of me, boy. You spurn me so, only to ask such a thing.” He growled out.

He then pushed the omega to the stone floor, ignoring the shrieks of indignance that came from
Arrax, as he hovered over the panting boy, eye blazing.

Aemond slowly ground into Lucerys’s leg, his cock painfully hard, pressing against him. The scent
of the sea encased him, as he ran his teeth over the omega’s mating mark. The boy arched into him,
whining prettily as he tilted his neck to the side.

All rationality snapped for the alpha then, as the need to own, to possess the omega pulsed through
him.

“You ask me if you are still attractive. Feel for yourself. Feel what you have done to me.” He
growled as he freed his aching length from his breeches, red and angry, pressing it into Lucerys’s
clothed heat.

He could feel the omega’s hot inhale by his ear, as the boy twined his arms around Aemond’s neck
to hold him close. “Want you to make me pregnant again, Alpha.” the insolent thing purred, as he
canted his hips to meet Aemond’s.

Aemond could feel the blood rush through his body with the omega’s damning words, as he let out
a snarl, pushing the boy’s shirt up, taking a nipple between his teeth as he lapped at it roughly.
There was a raging fire between them. Lucerys was a match, burning bright, setting him aflame.

He could feel the wetness between his legs, could smell the heady smell of his slick as he bit on
his reddened bud.

Lucerys keened so loudly that the alpha’s head began to swim, tearing his undergarments with his
hands, as he slowly began to press inside of him.

“Mine.” He snapped, as he spread his omega wide, growling filthy possessive words, words he
never expected to hear from himself, as he fucked into the omega harshly. “Going to knot you full,
get you pregnant again, have you swelling with my child always.”

Lucerys only whined needily in response, moans bubbling out of him as Aemond pulled out to
shove his cock back into his heat rudely. He started pounding into the boy with a rhythm that had
the smart-mouthed omega babbling incoherently.

He swallowed the boy’s whimpers with an open-mouthed kiss, with his hands gripping his hips,
hard enough to bruise as he continued to move in the omega’s tight heat. It was all too much, the
thoughts of Cregan and Lucerys hugging, of Lucerys smiling at him, laughing with him. His heart
filled with the maddening desire to own the boy, to keep him for himself.

“Tell me you're mine.” Aemond breathed out.

“I am yours, Aemond. Please, I need you.” Lucerys wailed, tears running down his cheeks as he
clenched around the alpha, impossibly tight, impossibly hot.

He looked a vision, his stomach swelled with his child, tears streaking his reddened cheeks that
Aemond promptly licked away. Tears only for him to see, him to taste. Only he could make
Lucerys cry like this. Only he could fuck Lucerys like this.

Aemond gave the omega what he wanted then, pushing deeper and harder into the boy, until he
was calling the alpha’s name, over and over.

-
Shame and arousal alike festered in the pit of his stomach, as he held the sleeping omega close, his
knot still nestled in the boy. He cradled Lucerys’s head to his chest, as he felt the boy’s steady
breaths on the hammering of his heart.

Aemond attempted to turn his head away from Vhagar’s judgmental gaze, the she-dragon letting
out huffs of annoyance due to the disturbance caused by their loud coupling.

It was unlike him to lose control in such a way. To have taken the omega in front of the irksome
tiny dragon was one thing, but he could feel his skin prickle with the penetrating eyes of his war-
hardened companion.

Arrax, on the other hand, had ceased his shrieks and had laid beside the pair, as he watched
Lucerys sleep dutifully.

Oddly enough, the two dragons had been at odds with one another before their marriage and
bonding. The fear of having Vhagar eat the tiny Arrax was real, which led the dragon keepers to
house the two separately.

After the boy’s pregnancy, however, Aemond had visited Vhagar, only to find the small dragon
sleeping beside her looming frame. It was as if the two had come to a truce, a stony acceptance of
one another.

He could feel his knot deflate, as he slowly pulled himself out from Lucerys, who let out a grunt of
annoyance, as Aemond carefully moved himself out from his body.

Slick and cum gushed out of the boy’s heat, causing embarrassment and possession to rise in his
chest, as he tempered down the sudden lick of arousal that overcame him at the sight.

“I want to sleep, husband,” Lucerys mumbled as he stirred. Raising his head from Aemond’s chest,
staring at him languidly, eyes half-lidded, his soft brown hair matted to his forehead.

He looked ravishing. He looked innocent. He looked like his.

Aemond could feel his cheeks burn with humiliation at his ruinous thoughts, as he pointedly
looked away from the omega, standing wordlessly as he carried the slumbering boy back to their
bed chambers.

The uncouth things he had said during their coupling, vulgar, crude words, had him flinching in
embarrassment, unable to face Lucerys. His alpha felt otherwise, all but preening in contentment,
happy with their claim on the boy.

It was impossible for the boy to feel the same. To feel the ardency Aemond ached for him with.

Nevertheless, in the laws of the land, the bite mark that graced the boy’s neck and the babe that he
carried within him. They belonged to each other. Irrevocably so.

Such thoughts comforted the alpha, gave him solace, as he hugged Lucerys close to his chest,
breathing in the scent of the omega’s hair. The fresh scent of the breaking sea, as he fell into a
contented sleep.

The summer stretched on, growing hotter as the bushels and flora in the gardens of the Red Keep
continued to thrive, much to the glee of his omega, who dragged Aemond to the gardens more
often than not.

The moon that followed tested Aemond’s iron-clad restraint. It was as if the boy had discovered
something new, had somehow read into the lecherous desires that plagued Aemond’s mind.

Lucerys’s wardrobe had been completely replaced at the omega’s command to the royal
seamstresses, now filled with tight-fitting dresses, in shades of deep blue and red, that showed off
the tantalising swell of his stomach. Gone were the flowing breeches and dress shirts that the boy
so favoured wearing before.

It took all the willpower the alpha had within him, to temper the fervid, predatory longing he had to
take the omega at every hour of the day, to have him filled with his cock, with his cum. To have
the boy so thoroughly marked that every alpha would know that it was his child was heavy with, it
was his mark he carried, it was his seed that coated his insides.

It was as if Lucerys knew this as well. It was as if something had assured the boy, as his schemes
had become more wicked, more licentious than they had ever been.

The boy now carried fresh lovebites each day from the alpha, harsh red blooming on his bare neck,
something that unwittingly placated his alpha that rumbled the need to possess, the need to own.
Nights between them remained too short for his liking, too short for him to mark Lucerys as
thoroughly as he wanted, every single inch of his body.

A memory flashed white hot in Aemond’s mind, from days ago in the attendance of the small
council.

They had been discussing the allowances for weapons to be given to the Kingsguard. Aemond was
dolefully aware of his position in the council, of the fact that they respected the Queen’s words
more than his, that of a warmongering warrior, who only knew to leave brutality in the wake of his
steps.

The protection of his mate and child was one he was not willing to turn a blind eye to, to remain
silent on. As he proceeded to declare his desire for the best weapons in the realm to be provided for
their guards. Lucerys had stared at him wide-eyed, shining eyes sparkling as he did so.

The picture of innocence his nephew had painted, was shattered, when Aemond felt the small hand
of his mate squeeze his cock under the table. All under the unknowing gaze of those in the small
council. The omega had unbuttoned his breeches with practised ease, as he proceeded to grip his
throbbing cock.

Lucerys’s small hand barely fit around his girth as he began his ministrations, as the alpha
struggled with the fiery surge of rapturous, vehement want to slam his cock into his impudent,
enticing mate, the small council be damned.

Council had ended unexpectedly soon after, as the lords had all but scurried away from the room.
Upon the decisive close of the door, Aemond had taken his mewling mate on the table.

They were not perfect by any means. They still bickered and argued, over the most menial of
things. However, things were different. Aemond realised that Lucerys took to holding his hand
often, placing it on his stomach gently as they strolled through the gardens.

They spoke more as well, sharing careful, tentative details about their lives before the war, small
memories that fell from the tip of their tongues before sleep.
Lucerys had shared stories of his youth in Dragonstone, of him secretly exploring the tunnels of the
Dragonmount as he revelled in the vivid colours of dragonglass that graced the tunnel walls.

If Aemond had sent a ship to Dragonstone the next day, to collect said coloured dragonglass,
naught needed to know.

The omega’s cravings had spiked within the fortnight, and the aroma of spiced foods was now
everpresent in their bed chambers that Lucerys had insisted on eating in. A particular dish of spiced
pigeon had become his mate's favourite, stuffed with the most fragrant of herbs. It filled Aemond
with trepidation and unexpected tenderness, to see his mate devour such zesty foods in abundance.

The insolent thing had even suggested a visit to Dorne, which was quickly refuted by the alpha,
who insisted that it was unsafe to travel when he was so heavy with child.

“I deserve a holiday, uncle. For carrying your child. I will go, and you are to follow.”

Aemond had begrudgingly hummed in acknowledgement, as he hoped his nephew would forget his
want for a trip altogether. The poisoning attempt that had occurred in Oldtown still haunted him,
still flooded his mind at every waking moment.

There were whispers that an army had been sent to Oldtown in the quiet of the dark, where the high
lords and ladies alike that were present at the hunt were ripped from their bed chambers. The fate
of them was unknown to Aemond, but deep in his bones, he knew many probably took their last
breaths that very night.

His mother would have cried in anguish, in sorrow. The agonising reality was that her childhood
home, and her family from her past had been ripped from the peace that surrounded them. That all
the dregs of the halls she had frequented, the family she grew up with, had been left to rot.

Remorse flooded him in such moments, often having to resort to scenting Lucerys, inhaling the
milk-addled scent of his omega before he struggled to fall into a fitful slumber.

The very guilt he felt, however, was not above the affection he had for Lucerys and the babe.
Affection that ran so deep it frightened him at times. He would have allowed the whole of Oldtown
to be burnt to crisp, if it could secure the safety of his child and mate.
-

Aemond entered their bed chambers, the room draped in the shadows of the night, only illuminated
by the soft glow of the candles that lay on their bedside. Vividly coloured candles made from the
obsidian dragonglass that his mate so loved, shined starkly against the dark of the room. He hoped
the small fragment’s from the boy’s childhood home would please him, would somehow coax him
to remain in their shared bed chambers, even after the babe was born. Such thoughts were futile,
empty reassurances that he gave himself.

Lucerys sat on their bed, plush furs and blankets wrapped around himself as he feasted on the
decadent chocolate cake he had requested from the royal kitchen. The omega took to nesting
frequently in the later stages of his pregnancy, as his stomach continued to swell in size even more
than before.

The Maester, upon his examination of the boy, stated that there was likely to be more than one
royal babe that would join them in the coming moons. Twins perhaps. There was a malignant irony
in this, as gratitude and fear alike quivered through him whenever he gazed upon his nephew.

Helaena’s pained screams as she rocked unsteadily to the ground, tethering between nightmare and
reality. Her curses at Aegon, at Aemond, at his mother, at the Seven. Only raw grief filtered from
her lungs on that stormy night, and the nights that followed. The very grief that made Aemond
unable to breathe, as though his body was turned inside out, blood frozen in his veins.

His grief, his suffering at the loss of his niece and nephew, was not equal, not even a small taste of
what his sister had gone through.

There were no words at the funeral, only the haunting lull of the Septon’s voice, and the roar of the
fire starting. Aegon’s face was streaked in tears, as Helaena’s wails cursing the faith, echoed from
the walls behind them, forbidden by Otto to attend her child’s goodbye.

Aemond couldn’t look away from the flames, as the Septon started to sing, believing that they
were singing the souls of the dead toward the embrace of the Mother. But it was like Aemond
could see their souls stuck in the flames, burning along with their small bodies.

Snapping himself out of the wretched memories that plagued him, he joined Lucerys in bed, as the
boy continued to preciously inhale the chocolate cake, as he nustled himself closer to the alpha.
“Lucerys, it is unwise to be eating sweets so late into the pregnancy. The book I have been reading
said-”

Aemond quickly caught his words, as abashment began to bubble up inside him. He hoped the boy
had been amiss to his ramblings, as he peered at Lucerys from the corner of his eye.

“What book, alpha?” Lucerys grinned meanly in response, mirth dancing in his chestnut eyes, as
Aemond ducked his head back, willing away the flush that had begun to build up his neck.

The boy’s hand shot forward, twining around his neck as he leaned in for a needy kiss, forcing
Aemond’s mouth open with his small tongue as he curled himself around the alpha.

Aemond let himself fall into it, slowly relaxing into the kiss. Lucerys lips were like chocolate,
sweet and rich, the last of his fruitless resistance.

It was moments like this he cherished. Moments of unspoken tenderness, where not many words
were exchanged between them, but rather a comfortable silence where Aemond hovered around the
words he wanted to say. But did not speak them.

The boy had him wrapped around his fingers, had his heart, his being, in the palm of his delicate
hands. With just a squeeze, with just a few words, he could break him.

He could feel Lucerys hand inch toward his face, caressing his hair as he pulled at the strap of
Aemond’s eyepatch.

Aemond’s hand lunged forward, as he gripped Lucerys’s wrist, hard enough to bruise. His blood
ran cold, fear collided in the shattered shards of his heart, shards that only Lucerys could mend.

“Take it off, husband.” The boy snapped as he struggled against Aemond’s tight hold.

It dawned on him then, the sinking realisation that he had been sleeping with his eyepatch on for
the past moon. That he had unconsciously chosen not to show the scarred, deformed flesh that
surrounded his sapphire to his mate, in the pathetic hopes of having the boy warm to him.
 He cared little of what Lucerys thought in the past, baring his scar and sapphire to him, to scare
him, to show the boy what he had done to him. But thoughts of the omega being afraid of him now,
flinching away from him as so many did when they saw his marred flesh, left sorrow digging deep
into his gut.

“I feel comfortable like this, Lucerys,” Aemond ground his teeth, hoping the omega would let the
issue pass, as he forced himself to breathe, and tried to calm himself.

The sinful, beautiful creature in front of him smirked, lips curling at the corner, as his other hand
reached out, brushing against Aemond’s face, before he tucked his fingers under his chin, forcing
the alpha to look at him.

“But when I see your sapphire, I-”

Aemond braced himself, clenching his teeth as he awaited the apology he longed for as a child
from the boy, which now seemed empty, unmeaning to him.

An apology meant nothing, not when the eye was lost, not when Lucerys had already moulded
him, shaped him into the man he had become since he took that eye.

The only thing he wanted, needed, was the omega’s heart. The heart of the boy who maimed him,
who carried his child, who made him into this person with emotions he never felt before. The
jealousy he felt, the anger that he tried to tame, the heartache he tried to quell, the pining he felt for
his mate, clawing its way up his throat, begging to be spoken.

“-I get wet, Uncle.”

Chapter End Notes

Thank you all so much for the lovely comments and kudos on the previous
chapters I am constantly in awe at how
much people are enjoying this little story so far!

Luke whenever Aemond shows his sapphire eye:

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 spice
Chapter Notes

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He could feel the blood rushing through his ears, followed by the sound of crashing waves, the
vestiges of a memory, one so shameful, that he had tucked it away, resurfacing upon the shore.

The clouds were grey, and the rain had thundered lowly, frighteningly, at Storm’s End. Aemond
had been sent by his family to secure the ever-needed marriage pact with a Baratheon girl. His
conversation with the Baratheon sisters had gone smoothly enough, and Lord Borros had
welcomed him with open arms upon hearing of the offer from his family. "My daughter shall be a
Princess," The idiot man had said, rubbing his hands together as he chuckled in glee.

The serene atmosphere had shattered upon the swing of the large stone doors spelling Lucerys’s
arrival.

He had proceeded to make an embarrassment of himself, had threatened the boy with the taking of
his eye, had been ready to chase him through the storm, to claim what was owed to him.

When Lucerys had left, Maris and her sisters had looked upon him with thinly veiled abhorrence. It
was surprising to him, as there were whispers in the court that the Baratheon girls had a taste, a
craving, for bloodshed.

It was his scent. His own scent that had spiked with rage, with the thirst for revenge. Lucerys’s
scent, the heady, thick smell of the ocean drenched in salty rainwater, sent Aemond’s blood boiling
under his skin when it invaded him. His heart raced, buzzing with what he thought was pure
agitation, fury.

He finally came to the pained realisation, that it was the undercurrents of lust, of want, that ran
through him, tainting his smell.

Aemond now recognised the gravity of his feelings, how deep they actually ran. For some time
now, those feelings had been simmering under the surface, begging to be let free.

It is you, Lucerys; it has always been you.

In his short life, there was so much that had happened, tainted by loss and tragedy, both taken and
given, but there had been one constant: Lucerys.

The beautiful boy, the one who took his eye, the one who changed his life, the one who made him
burn with rage, sadness, longing, hope, stared at him, want pooling in his deep brown eyes.

“Is there no end to your depravity, omega?” Aemond growled, cock hardening painfully in his
night clothes.

“Not when it comes to you, alpha,” Lucerys said with a sigh, his dark, infernal gaze trained on his
eyepatch.

It was a euphoric meeting of their lips, as Lucerys tore off his eyepatch, the band snapping, the last
of Aemond’s dissent melting away, as his omega laid him bare.

They lay in the bed that night, in the dark, with only the light of the moon illuminating a sleeping
Lucerys’s outline, the rounding of his stomach looking reverent in the moonlight. Aemond
interlocked him closer to his frame, not wanting to go to sleep, wanting the moment to last a while,
a second longer, even as his eyes began to droop in exhaustion.

The moons that followed before Lucerys had to prepare for confinement went by in a whirlwind. In
his Eighth moon, the omega was already swelling heavily, more than Helaena had toward the end
of her pregnancy. It was a worrying thing, seeing the omega’s belly hang so taxingly upon his
small frame.

Aemond hoped, prayed to the Seven that for the sake of his mate, they were to expect no more than
two pups. The Maester, however had warned him that his fears were indeed valid ones.

There were whispers around the castle during his youth, of how his father’s first wife had passed,
in the throes of childbirth, cut open mercilessly for the babe to be freed, as her howls of agony rang
through the castle walls.

Nightmares followed for the alpha as his nephew’s belly continued to grow, the darkest of his
nights which were once filled with fire and blood of the war that lay fetid on his hands, now
haunted him with images of a Lucerys with lifeless eyes and a stomach that bled in crimson red.

He had awoken drenched in a cold sweat in the middle of the night, the omega flinching awake
beside him, as if sensing his torment, before he hugged the alpha comfortingly, the best he could
with his swollen stomach between them.

Despite the fears that plagued the alpha, there was still an underlying excitement that ran rampant
through the Red Keep as the arrival of the babes grew closer. From the great Lords to the servants
that roamed the castle, it seemed as though everyone was waiting with bated anticipation for the
arrival of their new heirs. The realm, for the first time in years, seemed to have reached a state of
relative peace.

The babes had kicked for the first time about a fortnight ago, Lucerys’s face pulling into a
momentary grimace of pain before he barked out in joyous laughter as he grabbed Aemond’s hand
to place it on his stomach.

Aemond felt his throat close, welling with unspoken emotion, when he felt the flutter of movement
under the palm of his hands, akin to the soft beats of the wings of a baby hatchling. His children, as
if sensing their alpha sire near, had kicked in acknowledgement once again, before they stilled.

He had managed to find two dragon eggs, both sourced from the caves rumoured to have clutches
of unhatched eggs. Aemond worried incessantly, however, worried at the idea that if there was a
third child, there wouldn't be an egg present to be placed in their cradle.

His own egg had never hatched, remaining tepid and cold, despite his prayers as he held it by the
burning fireplace, the warmth he attempted to give it as he cradled it in his arms at night. His
efforts were for nought. His mother, as much as she loved him, didn’t, couldn’t truly understand
the emptiness he felt.

Aemond only wished his children would not go through the same.

Lucerys smiled widely at him, all teeth, nuzzling close to the alpha in the hearth of the fire, placing
his hand over his and interlacing their fingers, as they lay in comfortable silence.

Aemond’s heart always soared in the small moments of tenderness his nephew showed, it brought
a sweet joy to the alpha’s mind. His hopes for the future unwittingly began to grow, akin to small
tendrils sprouting from the roots of a tree, curling around his wavering heart.
Their couplings had been confined to Aemond taking his omega from behind, due to the lofty size
of his stomach.

Lucerys, the insolent, insatiable thing, had come to Aemond on a night when the alpha was reading
in the library, immersed in histories of the ways the old Valyrians had raised their children.

His alluring mate had chosen to dress himself in a robe the colour of powdered blue, the gossamer-
like fabric sheer to the touch, leaving little to the imagination, his pert nipples hardened, peaks
tantalisingly visible through the wispiness of the transparent material.

Aemond had taken the bewitching thing on the ancient oak desk that sat in the library, having been
used by generations of Targaryens.

He couldn’t seem to find it in himself to care, bending Lucerys over the desk, as he pushed his
aching cock inside him.

If he was of sound mind, he would have cared. Would have cared about disrespecting his
ancestors, would have cared if a servant were to walk in. But Lucerys made him crazed, with his
flaming eyes and rounded stomach, his mind turning to mush with the way the omega gripped his
cock, the way his cunt pulsed around his hard length.

The sounds of their coupling, the loud, lewd echoes of the slapping of his cock entering his
omega’s dripping cunt resounded through the library. Aemond continued to fuck his wailing
nephew, holding his writhing body in place, as he thrust in and out of his wet heat. The flimsy
ensemble Lucerys had walked in with was shredded, torn to pieces on the floor in the ardency of
their lovemaking.

The beguiling thing squealed in annoyance at this, demanding the alpha on the day that followed
for a replacement to be made. Aemond had sighed, resigned to his fate, as he called upon the royal
tailor yet again, the man already horribly overworked due to the sheer number of baby clothes the
alpha had commissioned him to make.

“Husband, when will we be setting off to Dorne?” Lucerys said softly, breaking the flustered alpha
out of his rapidly wandering thoughts, as they walked through the royal gardens, the omega’s small
hand warm in his palm.
It was a common occurrence for the boy to hold his hand, possibly to bring comfort to the babes,
but it was a feeling Aemond relished in. Lucerys often played with his fingers, interlacing them and
pressing his fingers into the alpha’s large palms, his scent often spiking in sour disdain whenever
Aemond released his hand.

Autumn had descended upon them, bringing the lazy rustle of the cool breeze of the wind upon all
at Kings Landing.

The omega had exclaimed indignantly that he did not feel the coldness of the season, insisted to
him that he wanted to feel the chill of the autumn draft on his skin.

Aemond ignored him, choosing to bundle the omega in the coat of brown bear fur he had made for
him, the colour complimenting Lucerys’s chestnut locks and eyes beautifully. In less than two
moons, their babes would join them as well in their smaller identical matching coats. His alpha
preened, inwardly howling in pride at the very thought.

“Lucerys, it would be unwise for us to take such a long journey. The Maester has stated that your
condition is a delicate one, due to the number of babes you might be carrying.” Aemond said,
staring at the boy imploringly.

He had hoped his omega’s idea of taking a trip to the desert-like mountainous peninsula had been
forgotten. Dorne was said to be a place of great beauty, readings of the region having described the
place as one filled with exotic spices and the mythical Sand Steeds, horses of unparalleled beauty.

Helaena, when younger, had been obsessed with visiting the region as well, had spoken of a fabled
Dornish prince, a character in one of those romance books she so loved. It was a surprising thing,
that his sister, always so entranced by the bugs their mother shrank away from, had a perchance for
such novels, had dreams of love, of a great romance.

Perhaps once the babies were born, they could travel there together. The vision of Lucerys riding
one of the Dornish horses, their babe strapped to his chest, had fondness curling in his gut.

“Well, the Maester knows nothing of the pains of boredom I face, the aches in my body due to the
lack of movement, confined to the Red Keep like a prisoner,” Lucerys grumbled, pulling his hand
away from Aemond’s, stomping his foot as he looked to the ground.

The alpha could feel Lucerys’s ire pulse through their bond, as he attempted to reason with his
disgruntled mate.

“We will pay a visit to the Sunsphere once the babes are born, nephew. I promise you. We can all
take the trip together.” Aemond said pleadingly.

The omega paused, a frown evident on his reddened face, before he pursed his lips into a tight line,
and proceeded to storm off, leaving a dumbfounded Aemond standing alone in the gardens.

Aemond heaved a sigh of relief, as he watched his husband leave without a fight. He had expected
the omega to scream, to demand the excursion despite the sound reasons he had given him. His
husband had pleasantly surprised him once again, leaving the pleased vestige of a smile on the
alpha’s face.

He then headed to the kitchens, instructing the cook to prepare their dinner for the night with the
saffron he had sourced from Yi Ti. The shipment had finally arrived, having taken more than a
moon to come by sea. Aemond hoped the exotic spice would give the omega some reprieve,
despite the travels he was denied.

Lucerys’s cravings had increased in voracity, the omega wanting spiced foods more often than not,
even on the lemon cakes he so loved. The combination was a strange one to Aemond, but the
euphoric expression his mate had when he munched on the foods had him entranced.

“Aemond, travelling to Dorne would be of no issue. We would be going by ship even! It is known
that Targaryens continue to fly on their dragons, even when with child. My mother told me she did
so when she carried me as well.”

His impertinent mate had continued with his complaints, even after Aemond had presented him
with the saffron-dusted lemon cakes the cooks had prepared.

Aemond had grown used to the omega’s incessant ramblings, often fondly chiming into the
omega’s prattlings with small conversation of his own.

What he was not used to, was the omega speaking of his late family.
Even in the late of the night, when they spoke about their childhoods, the mention of family was
something the two skirted around. Their relationship, still tender, still fresh, would crumble to the
ground the moment the war was mentioned. Aemond knew this in his bones; the inevitable dread
he felt with this knowledge had a mixture of guilt and foreboding stir in his stomach.

There was a particular story Aemond told the boy, of a hunt he had participated in where he had
slain a large boar, his first successful kill since his eye had been taken.

What he had omitted were the cheers of delight that came from Aegon and Helaena, his brother
proudly stating that he was to be the best hunter that Westeros had ever seen, his sister presenting
him with the new species of a cricket she had obtained as a congratulatory prize. His siblings knew,
Aegon especially, of how hard he had trained, how hard he worked to rid himself of the
disadvantage his blind side brought him.

There were times, in the deep of the night, that he attempted to make sense of Aegon’s death,
where he reminded himself of the pain his brother had caused, the pain his coronation had
inevitably brought on all of them.

It was for nothing, for his traitorous mind, despite his attempts to suppress it, always recounted
back to the cheeky laugher of his brother, his silent protection over him after his eye was taken, the
clashing of their swords as they sparred, the feeling of Sunfyre and a cackling Aegon flying
alongside him, as they took to the blue skies.

“My mother had six children, all-”

Aemond looked curiously at his mate, who abruptly ceased in his ramblings.

Lucerys chewed slowly on his lemon cake, eyes glistening, watering as he stared blankly, down at
his plate.

The alpha inhaled, the comforting aroma of the ocean that encompassed the room turning dry,
acidic.

“Husband, I need you to hold me. Just for a while. Please.”

Lucerys crawled into his lap, curling into him, leaning against his chest, as he burrowed his nose
into Aemond’s neck, heaving in the smell of the alpha.

His nephew fell to slumber quickly after, as a troubled Aemond laid awake through the night,
thinking, pondering.

Aemond led his drowsy husband into the royal gardens, nervousness thrumming through him, as
he supported the frame of a yawning Lucerys, who rubbed at his bleary eyes wearily when the
alpha had swept him away once he had awoken.

He could see the specks of green in the omega’s eyes, as his eyes grew wide, jerking to the side to
meet Aemond’s gaze.

“You did this, Aemond?”, Lucerys said breathily.

Aemond hummed in acknowledgement, as he led his mate to sit on the picnic mat he had procured.

Thankfully, the sun had already broken through the clouds overhead, casting the royal gardens in
dappling light that spilt over the patch of grass he had chosen.

He had arisen early in the morning, taking to the kitchens after procuring the needed ingredients
from the markets in Kings Landing. Aemond would have instructed the palace guards to do so but
wanted to pick out the spicy dragon peppers and the various fruits himself. His nephew tended to
be unaware of his own limitations at times, with some of the spiced meals served ordered with
spices so strong, Aemond could feel his eyes water in irritation at the smell alone.

The picnic mat had sprawls of blood oranges, plums and Lucerys’s favourite pomegranates. He
remembered the boy enjoying the fruit during their time in Oldtown. Unbidden thoughts of the city
had the pain of shame, of guilt, colliding in his chest.

There was a small silver lining, the only one that allowed Aemond to sleep at night, that his
younger relatives, untainted by the nefarious intentions of the Hightower family, had somehow
been spared.
 Stuffed green peppers and lamb paired with grape leaves and flatbread were one of the many
dishes that lined the mat. Olives and white cheeses were placed in the painstakingly made
formation of waves, and Aemond could feel his cheeks burn with abashment when he felt
Lucerys’s amused gaze on him.

The cheerful, light scent of the omega had returned, washing over him in droves as Lucerys
reclined against his chest, feeding him cheeses despite Aemond’s grunts of protest.

Aemond felt the knot in his chest loosen at this, grateful that Lucerys’s mood was no longer as sour
as it was the night before.

Not wanting to be outdone, the alpha raised a pomegranate to the omega’s lips, heat rolling
through him as he watched Lucerys lick his fingers into his small mouth, darkened eyes leering
over his body, that was overcome with a sudden shudder of need.

The haze of lust that enveloped them was all but broken when Lucerys clutched his stomach,
letting out a raw cry so guttural, it rattled his bones with terror.

There was a pool of water, a gush of it, staining Lucerys’s blue dress, seeping through the picnic
mat and onto the lush field.

It was too soon, too quick; Lucerys had barely entered into his eighth moon of pregnancy.

The child-rearing books he read never included the loss of a babe; never had anything but a happy
ending where the couple depicted would bring home their child.

The smell of blood was strong, and Aemond couldn't bear to look, gathering a whimpering, crying
Lucerys in his arms, as he tore into the Red Keep, shouting for the Maester.

Chapter End Notes

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 bittersweet
Chapter Notes

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There was the smell of distress, thick and heavy, soured with edges of panic, flooding the birthing
chamber. But above it all was the scent of blood, metallic and acrid, permeating through every
crevice of the space that gripped the alpha with fear, with agitation.

Lucerys lay on the bed, surrounded by the frantic Maester and maids, the beautiful sunlight of the
afternoon now casting a harsh glow on his belly. Blood painted the birthing gown the maids had
changed him into, blooming like a bleeding flower onto the stark white sheets.

Aemond had requested for another birthing chamber to be built, had the very one dynasties of
Targaryens had birthed their children in removed. His mother included. The former chamber that
was shrouded in the green of his childhood, evidence of the former Queen ever-present on their
walls, was torn to the ground.

He had prayed in the Sept after, face buried in his hands, hoping his mother would understand the
need that ran through him, the need for a new beginning.

His omega let out another piercing scream as he gripped Aemond’s hand, fingernails digging deep
into his skin. The maids fussed around him, moving his legs and rubbing his shoulders, cooing
words of comfort in their desperate attempts to calm the boy.

The Maesters had assured a near-hysterical Aemond that an early birth was to be expected, given
that Lucerys was likely carrying multiple babes.

Deep down, Aemond knew this. Helaena’s twins had come early as well. But there was a gnawing
feeling of apprehension that only continued to heighten in his chest, knotting around his heart like
the thick vines of the lemon trees Lucerys so loved. The feeling that something was amiss.

The wizened old man had a strange look on his face as his eyes flickered worryingly at the copious
amount of blood that had begun to pool on the sheets.

“Stop this.” Lucerys cried, voice breaking into a wave of tears that wracked his body. “The babes
are not ready. They can’t come. Not yet.”
“Please calm down, your Grace.” The Maester said comfortingly as he examined the omega,
gesturing for the frantic maids to bring more wet towels. Aemond paled as Lucerys uttered another
grating scream, wiping away the sweat from his mate’s forehead. “I would implore you to push,
your Grace. The babes will fall in danger otherwise.”

“They are not ready! I can’t! Please keep them in me.” Lucerys wailed tearily, tearing his hand out
of Aemond’s and placing them on his lower half with a shaking desperation, as if he was trying to
keep the babes within himself.

Lucerys looked at him with watery, bloodshot eyes letting out a pained sob as Aemond buried his
face into his neck, scenting him despairingly, hoping to bring the omega some form of relief.

Upon laying Lucerys down on the bed, the boy had pleaded for Aemond to leave, crying that it
was improper for an alpha, his husband no less, to be present in the birthing chamber. The Maester
had chimed in as well, only halting his words when Aemond shot him an outraged glare.

He remembered Aegon wallowing in his cups, downing glasses of red wine when Helaena had
been in her labours, as her screams echoed through the hallways. His brother had no interest in the
children, and his relationship with Helaena, with Aemond even, by then had started to show its
cracks. Small crevices that begun to appear on the stone hard perseverance the three of them
banded together with when Aemond had lost his eye.

The smell of Aemond’s scent seemed to assuage Lucerys in some form, as he weakly pushed his
body up, despite the Maester’s protests, burrowing into the alpha’s hold. The omega’s eyes looked
to have cleared momentarily, chestnut brown tinged with the wetness of his tears as he looked upon
the rivulets of red that continued to pour onto sheets.

“Seven hells, Aemond. This should not be happening. Our babies are not ready.” Lucerys
whimpered, his scent heavily cloying, clinging to his sweaty skin.

“I know Lucerys, but it is. You are doing so well, so well that our babes cannot wait to meet you,
cannot wait to meet their mother.” Aemond said softly, as he wiped the omega’s tears away, which
began to rain once again from his eyes.

It was an uncharacteristically soft thing for him to say, his teenage self, even his self of a year ago,
would have cringed at the saccharine sweet, almost unbelievable words that fell from his lips.
Lucerys himself, the cheeky thing, would have giggled meanly in his face. But he found himself
meaning every word, feeling the verity of them pound in his chest.

Aemond had been lounging peacefully on their bed in the early of the morning, slowly rousing to
awaken when he heard a familiar peal of laughter envelop the bed chambers.

To his horror, Lucerys had opened the lowest cabinet of the drawers in their bed chambers, which
caused the pile of clothes and shoes for the babes Aemond had both commissioned from the tailor
and purchased from his many trips to the markets to tumble onto the floor. Little dresses and
trousers, in all the colours he could find, with the tiniest of shoes Aemond held in wonderment
when the shoesmith had presented them to him.

His words instead seemed to have the opposite effect on Lucerys, who slowly nodded in assent,
squeezing Aemond’s hand as he breathed in and out, taking short shallow breaths, before he began
to push in earnest.

Aemond breathed with him, staring into his omega’s eyes as they breathed together in tandem,
hoping his similar movements would calm his husband. He could hear the Maester and the maids
heave weighty sighs of relief, as they scrambled into the best positions to welcome the babe.

The labour seemed to stretch on forever, as Lucerys thrashed and screamed, gasping in pain. The
sky had gone dark. Gone was the light of the afternoon, the room only lit by the dim glow of the
candles the maids had ushered in.

Lucerys legs were held open by the maids, as he gritted his teeth, with his dark brows drawn into a
stressed line as the Maester continued to direct them about.

Aemond did the best he could, as he whispered words of encouragement to his mate, ignoring the
searing pain in his fingers as Lucerys kneaded at him tightly, strong enough to bruise.

“Sleep calls to me, Aemond; I want to sleep. I am so tired.” Lucerys groaned, as his tear-stained
eyes began to flutter, much to the alpha’s alarm, as he looked toward the Maester frantically.

“Your Grace, you are almost there. Just one more push.” The Maester exclaimed as the maids
pushed the boy’s birthing gown up, arms ready to receive the babe. Aemond’s breath hitched when
he saw the copious amount of blood that had accumulated over the hours, soaking Lucerys’s
birthing gown like a bad omen.
Lucerys grits his teeth once again, seeming to come alive with newfound strength as he pressed
Aemond’s hand, a sharp scream escaping his throat.

A shrill cry filled the space, a small cry that filled Aemond’s heart with emotion he never felt, had
never experienced in his life.

He held Lucerys close, supporting his head on his chest, muttering words of praise to the omega,
who had slackened once again in his hold, exhausted.

“It is a boy, your Grace!” The maid exclaimed as she carefully cleaned the wailing child with soft
linens. The child, his son, their son, was bloody, screaming, his tiny fists clenched and his mouth
wide. Even through his bloodied appearance, Aemond could see the small pale strands that lay
upon his head.

“You need to push again, your Grace. There is another child coming.” The Maester implored, as he
looked encouragingly at Lucerys. The maids hurry into their positions once again at the Maester's
sharp command.

“Husband, you have done so well. Just one more, and the other babe will come.” Aemond said,
threading his fingers through Lucerys’s hand, as the other curled around the boy’s wet face.

Upon hearing the direction to push, the omega ground his teeth yet again, his face set in a
determined line, as he broke off into a loud cry.

Another child emerged, screaming as loudly as her sibling, as the maids hurried to clean and
bundle the small thing up. His daughter was healthy, as was his son, their tiny faces scrunched up
as they wailed loudly in the maid's arms.

Aemond had never heard anything so beautiful before.

“A healthy Prince and Princess, your Graces! Both with hair like starlight, like their sire.” The
maid pronounced happily, as Aemond watched on in awe, his heart bursting with pride, flowering
in the darkness that his childhood, that the war had brought him, had twisted him into. The scent of
milk flooded the room, the scent of new, enveloping his body.

“Aemond, Aemond, something is wrong.” Lucerys panted, squirming in delirium on the sheets,
against his chest.

Aemond felt panic fill his bones, the bundle of nerves coiling tight in his stomach yet again as he
looked in trepidation at the Maester.

The Maester had gone pale, white in the face as he shakily instructed the boy to push again, this
time with less enthusiasm than he had before.

Lucerys let out a small cry, the last of his energy visibly sapped from his body. Aemond held his
hands, massaging them gently, praying desperately to the Gods his mother worshipped, hoping for
everything to be well for his husband, for the last babe that was to come.

There was a bloody mass on the bed; something twitching and indistinguishable lay upon the
sheets, letting out feeble breaths, breaths that Aemond could barely hear. He could feel his heart
drop in his stomach, as he reached forward slowly, not wanting to jostle his fatigued mate.

The maid that had been ready to receive the next babe let out a scream; her eyes widened like
plates, as she recoiled away. The frightened girl ran to the corner of the room, as she knelt, hands
shaking around her ears.

It was blood-curdling, not unlike the ones Aemond heard during the war, when others bore witness
to the atrocities he had inflicted.

His already cleaned and bundled two children cried even louder, as if they knew something had
gone terribly wrong, as the maids holding them rocked and hushed them.

The Maester shouted at the maid, for her insolence to the Queen and King, as he himself came
closer to inspect the last babe, his face twisting in disbelief, in shock.

“What is wrong? You are to speak immediately and tend to the child.” Aemond growled, feeling a
wearied Lucerys flop against him, his body weakened. The celebratory atmosphere that had
surrounded the room when his first two children were born had all but vanished, and in place hung
the heavy air of dread, of death .

“Your Grace. The babe, the babe is not-” The Maester stammered out, his eyes shaking.
“Show them to me. Now.” Aemond gritted out, as he trailed comforting circles around Lucerys’s
hand.

“Aemond, why is everyone screaming? I want to see my babies. Let me see them.” Lucerys
mumbled, as he shoved Aemond’s hand away, pushing himself toward the approaching Maester.

His omega let out an anguished cry, mouth contorting in a pained grimace upon seeing the third
babe, who had been haphazardly placed by the quaking Maester into a small blanket.

“I cannot look. Gods, Gods, it looks like Visen-”

Aemond attempted to calm his husband, hand moving to wrap around his shoulders.

Lucerys blanched away from him, collapsing onto the side of the bed, as he wailed into the
bloodied sheets, sounding akin to a wounded animal.

He reached for his husband again, who had curled into himself, rocking back and forth as he
continued to scream. Lucerys’s screams made the babies cry even louder, as if they could feel their
mother’s suffering.

But as he tried doing so, the Maester placed the bundle in the incensed alpha’s arms, before he
scurried away to stand next to the maids.

What lay in the bundle was a creature that was not human.

It was a beautiful, monstrous thing, a creature barely half the size of its womb mates, with only a
few strands of light hair on its head. Its front was scaled, in the shades of gold and yellow that ran
from its face to legs. Its face was twisted, malformed in the most grotesque of ways, with a nose
and lips that were barely there. It was barely a human, barely a dragon. Instead, it was a sordid mix
of the two. Unlike its womb mates, it carried no smell. Absent was the scent of milk newborns
carried; absent was the scent of life.

Aemond wanted it away from him, wanted to scream at the Maester to take the bundle back,
wanted to scream at the Mother, at the Gods for cursing his husband, his Lucerys, with such
misfortune.

Perhaps this was a way of the Gods casting their divine retribution upon him, for the grievous sins
he had committed. He only wished that they would have cast them upon himself, and not upon the
small thing he held in his trembling hands.

The creature’s hand twitched, as it reached its small misshapen hand toward him.

Aemond felt faint, felt his head spin as his throat welled and his eyes stung, as he held his finger
out to the quivering feeble hand of the small thing, warm to the touch, as it curled around him,
grasping him weakly.

It was a boy, he realised, upon further inspection. It was his son.

“Your Grace, it is not wise to hold the creat- the child. The child is in misery, and it is at my
humble suggestion that they be put out of it.” The Maester said with resignation, with
apprehension, voice quaking as he held Aemond’s violet gaze.

That bloodlust, the sadistic urge to slice the Maester into pieces, to hold him by the throat as he
struggled and choked as his life slowly escaped him, thumped through his veins. The Maester had
only the babe in his arms to thank, for Aemond, even without Blackfyre by his side, wanted to
pummel the man to death.

“One of you. Carry the babe, now!” He growled out, but it was to no avail. The room was devoid
of maids, all of them having fled the darkened room, with only the Maester and the two maids that
were carrying the first two babes present.

“My babies, bring them to me.” Lucerys croaked from beside him, his voice warbled and thin.
Aemond tried to move close toward him, wanting to touch his husband in some way, only for the
omega to let out an angry snarl, as he bared his teeth at the alpha, eyes swollen, pink.

“You are not to touch me, not while you are holding the poor creature that is neither dead nor
alive.”

His son in his arms keened softly, a sound only Aemond could hear as he watched the maids hurry
over with the children to Lucerys.
The omega held his son, their firstborn, holding the child with practised ease that surprised
Aemond as he touched his little head, and trailed his fingers along his son’s face, his hands and his
feet, counting under his breath with each touch, as if in prayer, his dark tangled hair falling in a
curtain around him.

He does the same with their daughter, his mouth tilting up into the briefest of smiles as the little
thing cooed at her mother from her blankets. The maids crooned excitedly at the sight, words of
prayer and gratitude spilling from their lips.

“They are perfect. They are here.” Lucerys whispered, entranced by the babes, well and healthy.
Yet his eyes, his eyes betrayed everything, despite the small smile on his husband’s face.

Lucerys had always expressed himself with ease, his anger, his want, his joy, all emotions Aemond
had become accustomed to, plain and open on his face for all to see. It was a disconcerting thing to
see the omega mask his emotions as such.

Aemond made yet another attempt, inching closer to his husband, careful not to jostle the fragile
thing in his arms, wanting to hold Lucerys, wanting to touch the babes. But Lucerys pulled their
daughter away, the child erupting into loud wails as her brother in the maid’s arms followed with
screams of his own.

“You will hand the- the thing to the Maester, before you touch the babes, husband. I cannot look at
it. I cannot lose myself again.”

Handing his son to the damned Maester was the last thing Aemond would do. The man shivered at
the very sight of his child, looked at him like he was an abomination from the Seven Hells.

“He is our son, Lucerys. He is alive and breathing.” Aemond said, voice thick, the dejection that
pulsed through the bond stinging him, cutting him deep like a knife.

Lucerys ignored him, turning his back to him as he conversed with the maids and the Maester.

“Have you chosen a name, your Grace?” The Maester implored curiously, as the maids looked on
fondly at his blinking children. Their eyes were violet, shining, matching the hue of Aemond’s
own.
“Aerys for my son, and Aeresa for my daughter. Prince Aerys and Princess Aeresa Targaryen.”
Lucerys said, tenderness seeping into his voice as the Maester and maids crooned in delight.

A warmness had begun to spread through Aemond, warming his bones, his soul, as he heard the
names Lucerys had uttered. The boy had somehow found the writings Aemond had penned his
thoughts on in the deep of the night, the names of Aerys and Aeresa that had floated in his head
ever since Lucerys’s pregnancy had been announced, scribbled with his inked quill onto weathered
pages.

Aemond wanted, needed to hold Lucerys and the babes close, wanted to tell his mate he did well,
that he was proud of him, that he loved him.

“Your Grace, will you be naming the third?” The Maester said, interjecting his thoughts, looking at
the child in Aemond’s arms in trepidation.

Aemond had a name, a name that was on the tip of his tongue, ready to grace the babe with, before
Lucerys chimed in.

“There will be no need. The creature would be dead by sunrise, if not, by the week's end. There is
no need to name it.” His mate said coldly, an unrecognisable look on his beautiful face, as he
looked upon his sleeping children.

Aemond sat in the darkness of his bed chambers, a place he had expected to return to once the
babes were born. The small, weakened babe lay in the cot that had been frantically procured by the
maids.

No wet nurse wanted to nurse the child, frightened by the sharp canines that graced his teeth and
the bane they feared could rain upon them from the Gods above by touching him. The women had
flinched away from Aemond at the sight of the child, both his threats and promises of great
rewards falling on deaf ears.

Aemond fed the babe with milk he had obtained from one of the wet nurses himself, fed him
through a cheesecloth that he attempted to shape into a teat. The small thing had latched on after
much coaxing from the alpha, taking tiny sips, the act itself proving difficult for his son.
 Lucerys had the doors to their bed chambers barred. His sworn guard only instructed to allow
Aemond in if the third babe was not present.

His first and second born were with his mate; they were safe. That gave the alpha some comfort, as
he stared upon his frail son that lay in the cot, taking shallow breaths that he could only hear when
he leaned close.

He wished for Lucerys to come, wished for the omega to understand, to forgive him for not being
by his side, that the child had no one but himself, no one who was willing to touch him, no one
who was willing to look at him.

When the sun rose, Aemond had not slept, and Lucerys had not come.

Chapter End Notes

Happy new year, everyone, and thank you for the lovely kudos and comments!

This might seem a little dark, but here we go:

( ️_ ️)
(◕_ ️)

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, they motivate me to keep

going!
 torn
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Aemond glanced at the red sky, blinking his red-rimmed eyes at the rising sunlight than had begun
streaming through the room.

He fed the child, his son waking with a small gurgle, his breaths thin, shallow, as he gently held
him as he suckled on the dampened cheesecloth, his misshapen lips struggling to wrap around the
temporary teat.

You should be grateful.

The words floated through his head, not unlike chants the Septon had spoken when he and mother
attended prayers at the Citadel when back in Oldtown. Mother had always told him to make do
with the lot he had in life, to be beholden to whatever the Seven had in the cards for him.

Aemond should have been grateful. Should have been at his knees, thanking the great Mother for
blessing him with two healthy, beautiful children, for keeping his mate, his Lucerys, safe during
the agony of childbirth that took so many before him.

Yet he found it rather difficult to give his thanks to the Gods his mother so adored, as he gazed
upon his son. His son, who struggled with every breath he took, who hadn’t even opened his eyes
yet, who had scales running up his legs, his body, his tiny mangled arms, arms so small Aemond
could slot his rings through them.

“Your Grace, good morrow to you. Apologies for the sudden arrival, but we have found someone,
a wet nurse for the child.”

Lost in his thoughts, Aemond failed to notice the maester creeping into his bed chambers. The man
looked worse for wear, his voice shaking with his arms trembling at his sides as he spoke to him,
seemingly aware of his own misstep from the day before.

Aemond wanted to put the man’s head on a pike, wanted to present it as an offering to his sickly
child. He had done worse things to men who had done much less.
“She is here, Your Grace.” The maester stammered nervously, his fear blindingly apparent, as he
pushed the quivering thing forward.

“I am Beth, Your Grace.” The girl spluttered, her face turning pale as she looked upon the babe in
Aemond’s arms, twisting into momentary shock before she adjusted herself under Aemond’s livid
glare.

The alpha only hummed in response, which seemed to scare the maester even further, as he
frantically beckoned the mousey wet nurse to tend to the child.

The omega girl looked not much older than Lucerys, quaking in her steps as she approached
Aemond. She took the babe from his arms at the maester’s instruction, despite the alpha’s
reluctance, having to take a deep breath before he handed his child over to the snivelling thing.

To his surprise, his son seemed to relax in the omega’s hold, nuzzling close to her as she held him.
Aemond averted his eyes, as the maester barked out his commands for the girl to nurse him.

Aemond heard a yelp of pain from the omega, despite the maester’s incessant whispering for her to
be quiet.

“Were there no other wet nurses available?” Aemond said icily, as he eyeballed the gawking man.
The omega’s youth disturbed him deeply. Jaehaera and Jaehaerys had been fed by well-seasoned
wet nurses with years of experience, one he did not think the shrinking girl who cringed as his son
fed from her could provide.

“No, Your Grace. We scoured the Red Keep, and none were willing. It took the promise of many
rewards, even to convince this girl. It seems that word has spread as well among the servants
regarding-” the maester halted his words, looking apprehensively at Aemond before carrying on “-
the condition of the young prince.”

Aemond stalked toward the girl, full of contempt, eyes blazing. She startled as he approached,
holding his son close to her chest.

“You ask for more than you deserve. If the babe dies in your care, if I deem your care insufficient,
I will have you hung and quartered.”
The girl nodded timidly, as she averted her gaze, directing her attention. to his son, whose breathing
had calmed in her arms.

“It should be sufficient for now, Your Grace. The presence of an omega should serve as some
comfort for the child;” the maester said hurriedly as he placed various ointments and creams on the
dresser, wanting to dispel the tension in the air, “I am to attend to the Queen this morning, so I will
bid you good morrow, Your Grace.”

“I will come with.” Aemond stonily gritted out, shooting the omega another look of warning,
before he left the room with the panicked maester.

The fresh smell of milk, coupled with Lucerys’s all-familiar sea scent, encompassed the room,
serving as comfort to the alpha when he entered with the fretting maester, not before his mate’s
Kingsguard had surveyed his form warily, as if afraid the alpha had hidden the babe in his coat.

Lucerys lay in their bed, surrounded by lush furs and pillows, looking as ethereal as ever despite
his tired eyes, as they bore into Aemond in recognition. He was nursing Aerys, Aemond realised,
the boy suckling from his teat. The sight of his now-grown breasts caused a spark of unwanted
arousal to flare in his stomach, which he quickly tempered down, replaced by guilt that swept
through him in waves.

He was craven, to be thinking such things at such a moment, he cursed at himself angrily.

The alpha stood at the foot of the door, hoping Lucerys held no anger for him choosing to return to
his bed chambers, hoping that the boy could understand that he loved the children and himself all
the same.

“Come meet your children,” Lucerys whispered, his voice wobbling.

Aemond stumbled forward, kneeling beside his mate on the carpet of furs; as he reached his hand
out to touch the feather-soft silver strands that graced his son’s head, the child, in turn, blinked up
at him with wide violet eyes.

“He is beautiful,” Aemond murmured, his voice sounding foreign even to himself, warm even, as
he watched his son. His features were too small to be determined which parent he looked like, but
his lips looked so very much like his mate’s own.

“Yes,” Lucerys repeated, as he handed Aerys over to the maester to be checked, as the man placed
Aeresa in his arms.

His daughter similarly had strands of light hair on her head, a little less than her brother’s, but
otherwise, the two looked near identical with their tiny features.

“Thank you,” he said to his mate softly, as Lucerys’s lips quirked into a small smile, as he brought
himself upon the bed, careful not to disturb Aeresa, holding Lucerys close as the maester placed
Aerys back into his mate’s arms.

“She knows your voice,” Lucerys told him, as Aeresa cooed happily in his hold, cuddling closer to
him. He could feel his heart expand at the very sound, as he looked upon his son and daughter.

“Two healthy babes, Your Graces. Their weight and size are more than sufficient for newly born
babes. Your Graces are truly blessed by the Seven.” The maester announced as Lucerys heaved a
sigh of relief, pride and affection radiating from his omega in droves.

Aemond’s throat had gone tight again, his tongue numb as he tried to relish in the joyful
atmosphere that surrounded the room. His smiling mate, whose eyes glistened as he looked upon
their beautiful babes, the maester, who seemed like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders, so
different from the quaking man who graced Aemond in his bed chambers.

But all he could think about was his son, who lay in his the darkened bed chambers, who couldn’t
cry like his siblings, who struggled to breathe, who couldn't nurse like his siblings from their
mother, who was disfigured with features no one wanted to look upon. He didn’t even know the
colour of the babe’s eyes, him having yet to open them.

“The babes love to nurse, Aemond. They drink from me like thirsty dragons. I barely have enough
milk left!” Lucerys giggled as Aeresa began inching closer to him, swatting Aerys away with her
little flailing arms.

They switched the children, as Aemond revelled in holding Aerys, his firstborn, trying to enjoy his
mate’s happiness.
He wanted to ask if Lucerys could perhaps provide some milk for their third child, if there was any
left that he could spare. He thought maybe the milk of the child’s mother would placate him,
would ease the babe’s pain. But it seemed like his hopes were in vain.

The two decadent cradles placed in their bed-chambers already had the children’s dragon eggs in
them, he realised; the turquoise blue egg with flecks of gold was placed in Aerys crib, while a dark
egg with flecks of silver was placed in Aeresa’s crib.

“Will you be joining us tonight, husband?” Lucerys asked as he leaned his head onto Aemond’s
shoulder, his dark, curled hair tickling into his neck.

Aemond wanted to, wanted to stay in their bed chambers, wanted to hold Lucerys and their babes
close, wanted the airy feeling that surrounded the room to last, wanted to hear Lucerys giggle,
wanted to see him smile as he nursed their babes. His rooms were acrid, dark and lonely in
comparison, absent from the scent of the sea and the milk his two children carried.

Yet thoughts of his son, alone with only the snivelling money-hungry wet nurse for his only
company, as he suffered in silence, was enough for his reply to Lucerys to only be a vague hum.

As if sensing his hesitance, Lucerys sniffed as he pushed Aemond away, holding his son tighter to
his chest as he ordered the maester to retrieve their daughter from the alpha’s arms.

“You have chosen to stay with the dead, then. I won’t, I refuse, to revel in misery with you,
Aemond. I have children to care for. I have a kingdom to run.”

“Your Grace, the Queen is right. Upon observation, the babe seems to be faring as poorly as it did
the night before.” The maester said, the cowardly man now speaking freely in the presence of the
omega.

Like they could sense their sire’s agitation, his distress, Aerys and Aeresa began to cry loudly, their
reddened faces distraught as Lucerys placated them by rocking his arms, murmuring gently to the
children.

“I think you should go, Aemond,” Lucerys said quietly, coldly, as he freed his hand from
Aemond’s hold as if his touch scalded his skin, his joyful eyes turning emotionless.
Aemond was shaking as he left the room. He loved Lucerys, had come to terms with his feelings
moons ago, that the omega dredged up emotions in him he never knew existed, that he thought his
heart had become dead to, ever since his family had passed. But he couldn’t understand him
sometimes. Couldn’t understand why Lucerys couldn’t feel his fear. Couldn't understand how he
could be so calm when they could wake up any day to a dead son, where even prayers could not
save him. There were too many questions that swirled in his head, as he made his way back to his
bed chambers, back to his child.

A fortnight had passed since the babes were born, the autumn air growing cold, the trees shedding
their reddened leaves, as the Red Keep prepared for the incoming winter months.

Westeros had been filled with a celebratory air. Countless ravens flew in with letters of
congratulations from the various Lords and Ladies of the realm to the King and Queen for ushering
in a new dynasty, while gifts upon gifts arrived in shipments from the huge vessels that crashed
upon the shores of Kings Landing.

The whispers of the third babe that was being held in the King's bed chambers, so monstrous that
the Queen could not bear to lay his eyes on it, were quashed within the week. Lucerys had sent a
decree in the Red Keep that if word were to get out about the state of the third child, executioners
would come to those who spoke such treason.

Thankfully, his nephew had allowed Aemond to visit Aerys and Aeresa, despite his coldness
toward the alpha, as he spoke to him curtly, only with reason. His husband had taken to speaking to
him only regarding the affairs of the realm, as well as announcements he wanted to make regarding
the babes.

‘We should hold a feast or a tourney soon, husband. The twins are approaching their first moon,
they should be presented to the court.” Lucerys had remarked during Aemond’s daily visit to their
bed chambers. Aerys and Aeresa had grown quickly, their silver hair and violet eyes more
prominent than ever, despite being less than a moon old. The maester proclaimed them to be the
healthiest babes he had ever seen.

The alpha wanted to protest, the knot in his throat had grown taut, taunting. Aemond held his
tongue, not wanting to anger his mate, who had already given him so much, more than he
deserved. He instead focused his attention on the babes, blowing a raspberry on Aerys’s stomach,
the boy cooing loudly in response, before doing the same to Aeresa. His children were truly lovely,
and the guilt he felt whenever he left them when night fell cut like the sharpest of knives. He never
wanted to neglect his children, never wanted them to feel any inkling of what he felt as a child.
But Aerys and Aeresa had everything, everyone. They had the love of their mother, Lucerys, who
cuddled them close, and showed them off to the small council at their adjourned meeting dressed
in their little furs. The servants who fussed over them, who squealed at how healthy and well-fed
they were, how beautiful their eyes and hair were. Their words filled Aemond with pride, with love
as he looked upon them.

The child that lay in his bed chambers had nothing, no one.

The babe had grown slightly. Aemond had measured the child with a tape he had obtained from the
maester. Measuring the boy each day in hopes of seeing change. His features were still mangled,
the little nails on his hands and feet still clawed, and the scales that lined his body were still ever-
present. Despite the ointments the maester had provided, his son’s skin still had yet to improve in
appearance, much to the alpha’s dismay.

But the child cried louder now, still feeble, still weak, but his cries grew stronger as the days
passed. Aemond knew he wasn’t imagining it, for the babe’s wet nurse had confirmed the same.

The uncoordinated, scared thing scarpered around Aemond, mainly entering the chambers only to
nurse the child under his watchful eye before she scuttered away. The babe seemed to enjoy her
presence, the presence of an omega, his cries always seeming to calm whenever she held him.

Aemond jolted awake from his slumber, the shrill, heaving cries of his son waking him, as he
rushed to his cot. The wind outside blew loudly, the patter of the rain frozen.

It was difficult for Aemond to find slumber. Dreams turned to nightmares far too easily,
nightmares of a dead child, joined by the faces of his family. The alpha had refused to sleep some
nights, watching the babe in his cot, frightened at the thought of the Stranger taking him in his
sleep.

He gently held his son in his arms, and his cries only got shriller, more pained. He lit the candles in
the room, shrouding the room in dim light as he observed the babe.

To his horror, the babe’s skin was peeling, the scales looking a ghastly red, breaking into tiny
fragments at the touch, the babe shrieking when Aemond attempted to soothe him with a calming
palm on his forehead, a trick that worked especially well with Aeresa, who giggled at the touch.
The babe’s skin was hot, akin to a building fever as his wails grew louder and louder, even when
Aemond rocked him gently in his arms, heart clenching in his chest.

Only when the ointment the maester gave him failed to provide any relief for the babe, was when
he screamed at the kingsguard to fetch the child’s wet nurse. He had half a mind to call for the
maester, but the child cried whenever in the man’s hold, struggling to break free as if all-knowing
to the quick death the man wanted to bring upon him. Aemond could not trust the man not to bring
silence upon his child at any moment.

The mousey omega came dishevelled into the bed chambers, eyes lined with sleep as Aemond
pushed the child into her arms, roaring at the frightened thing to feed the child, to do anything to
nurse the ache his son was feeling.

Aemond stood, rooted to the ground, as the babe began to calm in the hold of the omega, his cries
turning soft as he nursed from her covered chest.

“Your Grace, I’m-I’m sorry for overstepping. But maybe if the babe’s mother is present, it might
prove as some comfort to him.” The omega stammered, voice faltering as she grimaced in pain.

Aemond wanted to deck the girl, wanted her head to roll for even mentioning Lucerys. He loved
Lucerys, ardently, hoped that when the ordeal was over, he could hold him close again, with their
children in their arms.

But it was at times like this, times where the babe cried so pitifully, despite Aemond’s constant
attempts to soothe him as if he just knew about the absence of his mother, where Aemond could not
help but feel hints of unwanted resentment toward his mate roll under his skin.

Flinching at his hardened gaze, the girl faltered in her words.

“I apologise, Your Grace. I have overstepped. It’s just that my own children, you see, always get
comforted by my scent when they are sick. My husband, bless his heart, does his best, but they
prefer my scent when in pain above all.” The wet nurse continued, as she looked upon the babe
fondly.

The babe was still crying when the wet nurse placed him down onto his cot, retrieving the herbs
from the table the maester had provided, as she scooped water onto them and pressed them onto the
child’s peeling, heated skin.

It seemed to provide him with momentary comfort, as his cries lessened, the babe taking to
whimpering instead. Aemond retrieved a towel soaked in water as well, placing it on the babe’s
forehead, as he contemplated the wet nurse’s words.

“Beth, if I am not mistaken? How old are your children.” Aemond asked.

“Your Grace, they are five moons and of three years, respectively,” Beth mumbled, the babe
beginning to scream again when the towel had grown heated, as she made yet another replacement.

Dread had begun to grow in his chest, twisting like rotting vines at the sound of his son crying, his
cries getting more pained, more piercing, despite the constant towels and herbs the wet nurse had
lined his body with.

It was like he could hear the Stranger, creeping at his door, waiting to take another one dear to
him.

The child screamed and cried throughout the night, his cot lined with fallen skin, and fallen scales,
as Aemond and Beth, fretted over him, changing his towels in the midst of his wails. Despite his
initial dislike of the girl, her devotion in caring for his son touched him, in the smallest of ways.

Only hours later, the babe finally begins to quiet, a sound that relieved Aemond yet scared him, his
son’s harsh cries interspersed with watery, hoarse whimpers.

“The worst seems to be over now, Your Grace,” Beth said, offering Aemond a tired, encouraging
smile, as she checked the babe’s temperature with her hand. “I am unsure of why his skin is
peeling, but I hoped the herbs we applied could ease the little thing’s pain somehow.”

“You- you are a good father, Your Grace. Your son is lucky to have you.” Beth said as she left, not
before holding the child’s little clawed hand in hers and shooting him an encouraging smile.

Her words sounded in Aemond’s mind, even when she left, as he cleaned the scales and skin in his
son’s cot, biting his lips as he felt a wetness trail down his face.
-

In the days that followed, the babe’s skin and scales continued to shed. Beth and Aemond tended to
him through the nights when he got overheated. A prescription from the maester for more herbs
had been provided as well, with the man advising against the fever medicine, saying it was too
strong for the babe.

Lucerys remained cold, stony, only allowing Aemond to the bed chambers for timed visits with
Aerys and Aeresa, who burbled happily at his arrival, much to his joy, before he was beckoned out
by the omega. It seemed as though his nephew held a grudge against him, regarding him with none
of the warmth he had before.

He remembered moons ago when Lucerys stated that he was to be in charge of teaching the babes
High Valyrian. The alpha had scoffed in reply, saying that he was to teach the babes the language
of their ancestors. Lucerys then went on to make fun of his pronunciation when he shyly
demonstrated a few words, sending the alpha into a furore, much to the amusement of his cackling
nephew. They had ended up tangled in the sheets, Aemond pinching his sides, which had led to
lascivious activities that burned his cheeks at the memory. Aemond wondered sometimes, in the
deep of the night, if Lucerys was done with him, now that the babes were born, now that he was of
no use to his nephew, now that he had his heir.

“Your Grace! The babe, his eyes have opened!” Beth gasped, breaking Aemond out of his damning
thoughts as he averted his gaze to his son.

His son, his child that looked more like a dragon than human, who looked nothing like any child,
any human Aemond had seen, was blinking. His eyes wide open as he surveyed his surroundings.

He had chestnut brown eyes, dark eyes, Lucerys’s eyes.

Aemond felt his eyes prickling, unable to tear his gaze away from his son. His heart swelled in his
chest, threatening to burst free. He had a babe that had his husband’s beautiful eyes, he only wished
Lucerys could be here to see the child they had made.

Beth had broken into sobs, “I’m sorry, Your Grace. I’m just so happy.” she warbled out, as she held
the child’s hand, his fingers curling into hers in familiarity.

He didn’t realise it before, but the front of her dress, her chest had dots of red, droplets of blood
that stained through. It must have been from feeding his child, it was his sharp teeth that cut her, he
thought with shocked realisation as he regarded the girl.

“Beth, why did you choose to do this?” Aemond said, confusion lining his voice.

Despite offerings of monetary rewards to other wet nurses, they had denied his son vehemently. It
was only Beth who had been willing.

“Your Grace, my firstborn was born with a missing leg and arm. Me and my husband have tried
saving for steel replacements, but they are expensive. Something that we cannot afford. Iron rusts
easily, Your Grace.” Beth whispered sadly, tears dribbling down her cheeks as she wiped them
away with her sleeve.

Aemond had left for the small council with a heavy heart. Guilt thrummed through him at the
thought of his initial harsh treatment of Beth. The girl had been nothing but kind to his son, yet he
treated her with barely feigned disdain.

Lucerys had been surprisingly absent from the small council, and the alpha had gone through the
motions, dismissing the lords as quickly as they came, as he made his way to the royal blacksmith,
only one thing in mind.

Heading back to his bed chambers, he steeled himself to greet Beth with the good news, that the
blacksmith would be making the replacements her son so required.

When he entered his bed chambers, he was greeted with the sight of his screaming child and a
flustered maid and guard, who stood above his crib, watching the babe with barely concealed fear.

“Where is Beth?” Aemond thundered out, as he held the babe to his chest, his son’s cries not
lessening despite his attempts to soothe him.

“Beth, Beth has been sent far away, Your Grace.” The maid stuttered, as the guard solemnly
nodded in agreement.

“Why? At whose demand?” Aemond growled, his son’s cries ringing in his ears.
 “The Queen, Your Grace. He- He sent Beth away. He was made known to the time Beth was
spending in your bed chambers at night.” The maid stammered nervously, nails digging into her
skin as she trembled in fear under Aemond’s gaze.

Silence surrounded Aemond, the sound of his son’s wails drifting away as he stared blankly at the
walls of his bed chambers. They were red. He never noticed.

The sound that broke the silence was his own exhale, followed by the shattering of his heart.

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos on the previous chapter❤️ I am so
grateful!

Aemond at the end:

(◕_ ️)

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter They motivate

me to keep going, and I love reading them all❤️
 carnage
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

“How is your hair so smooth, Aemond?” Lucerys had enquired grumpily, as they readied
themselves for attendance at the small council.

Aemond had only hummed in reply, taking the comb that the omega used in frustration to brush his
tangled hair, urging the boy to sit down before he used his hands to detangle his mate’s hair,
unravelling the evidence of their wanton activities from the night before.

Lucerys had smiled sweetly at him then, his chestnut eyes crinkling in mirth.

It was pathetic how even the simplest of gestures from the omega made him melt every time.

There was no such sweetness now.

Aemond’s body burned with fury. The sound of the babe’s crying only twisted his pain deeper into
his skin.

He banished the trembling maid and guard after questioning them on where Lucerys could have
sent Beth. When failing to receive the information he so desired, he took deep breaths, nails slicing
through his palms at the force of the fist he made, a lost attempt to calm himself, before he made
his way to his mate’s bed chambers.

The sight of Lucerys lounging in his chaise, singing to Aerys and Aeresa, who lay in their cots
gurgling merrily at their mother’s voice, was one that should have made him swoon, should have
filled him with unexplainable joy. The babes cooed enthusiastically when the heavy doors of the
bed chamber closed, welcoming their alpha sire’s arrival.

The omega looked indifferent, his smile seemed mocking, even, to the alpha, as he stood in front of
his mate.

“What did you do to her?” Aemond bit out, hands shaking at his sides, grasping onto the fabric of
his coat, hoping to ground himself somehow.
Lucerys’s eyes narrowed in an equal furore, regarding him Aemond with a dismissive wave of his
hand, “I did upon her what a Queen would do to a whore, seducing the King from right under my
nose.”

Aemond’s heart sank in his chest, heavy and dark. Rage alighting his being like the brightest of
fires, as he lunged forward, grabbing Lucerys by the arm.

Days ago, Beth, while tending to his son in the deep of the night, tiredness lining her eyes, had
spoken happily to Aemond on how she wished to meet the Queen one day, that the servants often
talked about how kind and warm the young Queen was to them. “I have only seen glimpses of him,
Your Grace, but I heard he is the most beautiful as well!” the wet nurse excitedly exclaimed while
changing the cloth on the babe’s cot.

“What the fuck are you doing?” the omega snarled, eyes going wide as Aemond barked out
commands to the panicked maids roaming the halls to watch Aerys and Aeresa, who had begun to
bawl loudly at the scent of agitation that bled through the room.

Lucerys gasped for breath, as Aemond brought his struggling, shrieking, husband into his bed
chambers, ordering the flustered maid and knight who had been watching the inconsolable babe
away, as the door closed with a decisive shut.

“Look upon our son, Lucerys.” Aemond gritted out, trying to ignore the frantic, panicked beating
of his heart.

“No.” The omega bared his teeth at him, enraging the alpha further, as he grabbed Lucerys’s jaw,
trying to force him to look upon their crying son.

“If you would have just looked at the babe, had just given him a glance, you would have known
that Beth was merely there to soothe him throughout the night,” Aemond growled, eyes rolling
back in his head as Lucerys kneed him in the stomach, grimacing as he held tight to his struggling
mate.

The babe continued to blubber loudly in his cot, his clawed arms flailing, reaching toward the scent
of his mother as Lucerys continued to struggle in his unrelenting hold.

Aemond’s wrath seemed to have sharpened his senses, as he used his free hand to draw Blackfyre
from his belt, the accursed sword his brother used to wield, heavy in his hand. He pressed it into
Lucerys’s palm, the omega flinching away from him, pushing his chest in a frantic move to get
away, as they stared at each other across the room.

“You have taken the only person willing to nurse our son, to care for him. You may as well kill
him yourself, husband.”

Lucerys glared at him, panting heavily, eyes filled with unshed tears, hands trembling along the hilt
of Blackfyre, before he collapsed to the floor with a pained scream, the sword clattering on the
floor.

“It is your fault, Aemond. It is your fault the creature has to suffer so.” Lucerys heaved as he buried
his face into his quaking hands, “It is my mother cursing me from above, for bearing the children
of the man who aided in her demise.”

Aemond stayed silent while Lucerys’s sobs echoed in the room. That's when he knew his pleas had
fallen on deaf ears. That's how he knew his dreams were nightmares, that there was no forgiveness
to be had. That all that had transpired between him and the omega had been a fragile, fleeting
dream that had finally torn at the seams, never to be repaired again.

It was hard for one to drift out of hatred, after all.

Lucerys had said it, the words Aemond so feared had been uttered out of the boy’s mouth. The
guilt that kept him up at night, the idea that perhaps it was the pain and devastation he had caused
that led to the babe’s suffering. Perhaps it was truly him feeling the brunt of Rhaenyra’s smite.

He only wished the boy had not shown kindness to him, only wished the smidgen of hope that had
come alight in his chest had not existed.

Lucerys was the sun, after all, untouchable, burning so bright that he had begun to forget the
misery that shrouded his past.

The boy continued to cry, tears streaming down his cheeks, looking ever so small, crumpled on the
floor. The alpha gently brought him up, sitting his distressed mate on the bed, as he called for the
maid. Lucerys’s cries had turned into hiccups, as he clung to Aemond’s arms in desperation.
He released the omega from his hold, as he instructed the maid on how to feed the babe from the
cheesecloth. It was difficult for his son, he knew, the babe having grown used to nursing from
Beth, but there was no choice to be had. He hoped the image of Blackfyre would somehow coerce
the maid into doing so, as she swayed in fear at the sight of the large sword that lay on the floor.

“We are done here, Lucerys. You may return to your bed chambers now.” Aemond said softly, as
he sheathed Blackfyre into his belt once again, readying himself for the journey ahead, not wanting
his presence to torment his mate any further.

“What do you mean we are done? Where are you going?” Lucerys cried, his voice hoarse.

“I am going to retrieve Beth. It will be difficult for the babe to nurse without her.” Aemond gritted
out.

“Please, Aemond, I will send for the guards to get her, to have her returned to her family.” The boy
wailed in desperation, tears streaming from his reddened cheeks. “You cannot see her, please. I
will tend to the babe, I promise.”

“Lucerys, she had merely been helping with nursing and caring for our son, nothing more. She is a
mother herself, and deserves to be paid and rewarded for her efforts.” Aemond said mournfully as
he prepared himself to leave the bed chamber.

The boy had offered him something he had yearned for. For them to reunite as a family, for
Lucerys to look upon the babe that mewled in the cot, content with just the smell of his mother,
unknowing of the storm of grief that swirled around them.

In spite of this, Beth’s blood-stained blouse flashed in his mind, stained from the teeth of his son.
Her words of consolation as they watched upon the crying babe at night, the babe no one wanted to
touch, the tears in her eyes when she spoke of her son without an arm and leg.

“We can send money to her, we can have her children cared for. Please, Aemond, you cannot see
her.” Lucerys continued to cry bitterly, as the omega grabbed onto his arm, willing him to stay.
“You will not forgive me if you do.”

The alpha jolted away from Lucerys, the omega’s touch searing. His heart clenched in his chest as
he bolted out of the room, shouting at the guards to ready his horse, the implications of the
omega’s words ringing ominously in his head.
-

With the knowledge that Beth could not have been taken far, Aemond rode his horse through the
various carriage trails that led out of the Red Keep, halting at each one to look into the distance,
desperately hoping he would find one of the shoddy carts that the guard informed him Beth had
been carted off in.

He hoped Lucerys had spoken in jest, his words merely an attempt to make him stay, as the image
of a cart came into his vision.

The mischievous omega loved to play pranks on him, after all. Lucerys, especially in the final
moons of his pregnancy, had often run from Aemond during their daily walks in the garden. The
omega then proceeded to scare the dumbstruck alpha, popping up from behind a bush during his
search, as he collapsed into peals of laughter on the garden ground at Aemond’s befuddled
reaction.

It was nauseatingly endearing, something he knew he would never experience again.

Premature relief coursed through his veins, as he rode forward, ordering the footman to stop the
cart, the man quaking in his boots at the sight of his King, before he let him into the musty cart.

Aemond’s eyes burned with the intensity of the sight in front of him, bile rose in his throat as he
attempted to compose himself, but to no avail.

Beth lay in the cart, her frame draped across the seat, her body barely moving.

Her skin was gnashed with welts that ran from the ankles of her shivering feet to the apples of her
cheeks. Each stroke left her skin cracked at the surface, splitting apart to reveal the sensitive flesh
that lay beneath. The flesh so raw, so red, it looked as though lava had been poured into the very
wounds. Blood seeped from each of the fresh wounds that covered her body, painting the wooden
seat of the cart a stark, crimson red.

Rage blinded Aemond’s vision as he struggled to examine Beth’s body. The girl was shivering, he
realised, the dampened mouldy air in the cart doing little to help, as he took off his coat and
wrapped it around her, horror-struck at the idea of her freezing to death. Beth winced in pain,
drifting in and out of consciousness as the leathery material made contact with her raw flesh. Her
mouth was lined with blood and saliva, dripping from her chin as she took feeble breaths.

Beth gurgled and choked, as she opened her reddened eyes. The only thing that salved the sting
was that the whip had not struck her eye, but the side of her face. It was splintered open, blood
running like rivulets at the movement of said wound.

“Your Grace.” she croaked out, despite Aemond’s attempts to shush her, gesturing at her to close
her eyes, to rest. He growled at the footman to make haste back to the Red Keep, as the cart began
to move in the opposite direction. Beth needed a maester. Such wounds, in their severity, if left to
fester, would be beckoning for the arrival of the Stranger.

“Your Grace-” Beth cried, the lone tear running down her cheek turning red. Her hair had been
chopped and sheared off, her long brown locks gone, with only sprouts of them left lying on her
head. “-It hurts.” The girl cried as Aemond closed his eyes, holding in emotion that was threatening
to well over.

“The babe has your hair, I reckon, Your Grace.” Beth had remarked joyously days before, as she
looked upon the few growing strands of silver hair that graced the babe’s head. “I am glad my
husband loves my hair, plain as it is. I am pleased he does, it took such a long time to grow!”

“Please rest, Beth. We will get you to the maester, and your family will be called to the Red Keep
as well.” Aemond said tightly, trying to console the girl, trying to sound optimistic, despite the rage
that had overtaken his body, on the precipice of shattering his hold on his sanity.

Beth’s wounds were deep, impossible to heal without scar or suture. It was likely the girl would
have heavy scars running like welts on her body and face for the rest of her life.

“I can’t see my husband like this,” Beth whispered, her voice faint, “I was never pretty, after all. I-”
she choked back a sob, whimpering as more tears fell, stinging the opened flesh on her cheeks, “-I
couldn’t even give him a healthy child.”

Thunder rumbled in the distance. It had begun to rain as Beth’s shallow cries bounced off the cart’s
walls.

In times like this, Aemond should have prayed. His faith had wavered during the war, wavered
when his family had been taken one after the other, but his mother’s words of how the Seven was
their guiding light remained as a staunch reminder in his head, ever present even after her death,
something he clung to for just a trace of her memory.

He did not believe in the Mother. Had not believed in her for a while. Yet he hated her with every
inch of his soul. Perhaps she was real, but he didn’t believe she cared for them any more than the
dead scales that lined his son’s cot.

His mother often spoke on how love and hate were two sides of the same coin, interchangeable. It
was like she was speaking from experience, her lips thinned when she muttered the words to him.
He never understood her. How could one hate someone yet love them at the same time? It seemed
inconceivable to him as a child.

Yet when he gazed upon Beth’s shuddering figure, looked upon the blood that lined the insides of
the cart, he finally understood what his mother had meant, as Beth's pained cries sounded around
him.

Upon arriving back at the Red Keep, Aemond had bellowed for the maester, the nervous man
frantically following with his attendants, as they carried the half-conscious girl off to be treated. He
had requested for her to be placed in one of the apartments the guests of the King and Queen would
stay in, hoping in desperation that the plush sheets and pillows would somehow aid in her recovery,
would hasten the healing of her severe injuries.

The lingering smell of blood and dust followed him, even as he stormed toward Lucerys’s
chambers, his traitorous legs carrying him each step of the way, his body burning, overcome with
rage.

It is fate in our family, I think, to bear the seeds of regret we sowed.

Helaena had said such to him when he played with his niece and nephews in her chambers as she
knitted. He dismissed his sister’s mumbles just as his mother did, not giving much thought to them,
not wanting to think too deeply into the words she uttered, spelling the inevitable doom of them all.

He was only met with stony silence, absent from the chime of Lucerys’s voice, absent from Aerys
and Aeresa’s coos, as the wind blew forebodingly through the window. The pouring rain had
stopped upon his and Beth’s arrival at the Red Keep, leaving behind a damp coldness, and an air of
mist.
 There was a gnawing feeling in his chest, growing by the second as he made his way to his own
bed chambers, trepidation making his blood run cold.

“Good morrow, Your Grace. The Queen had come bearing gifts for the babe.”

Eager to part with the babe, the maid had scrambled off, not before bowing to Aemond with a few
rushed-out words.

The sleeping babe hugged a dragon egg. The scales were a deep red, with swirlings of black
patterns adorning it. It was unlike any egg Aemond had ever seen. Clothes that carried Lucerys’s
scent surrounded the child as well, as the babe nuzzled into the egg, taking deep breaths, breaths
stronger than Aemond had ever witnessed from his son.

He had attempted searching for a dragon egg for the third child, desperately going to the cave
where he chanced upon Aerys and Aeresa’s eggs, scouring the entire area only to be met with no
luck. Dragon eggs had become scarce after the war, with even the orders he had sent to have eggs
searched for in Dragonstone having borne no fruit.

A necklace hung on the side of the cot, one that glinted in the streams of light. It was an intricate
piece, made from Valayrian steel, with a large red gem ornamented at the centre. Smaller gems of
the same colour followed in succession, lining the sides of the chain. Aemond had never seen
Lucerys wear such a piece before.

He left the bed chambers with more questions than answers. His disloyal mind muddled in a fit of
unwanted adoration and raging fury as he enquired with the guard on the Queen’s whereabouts.

The guard stated alarmingly that Lucerys had left his bed chambers with Aerys and Aeresa a while
ago.

Something was amiss.

The feeling of dread only grew stronger, settling deep in his bones as he searched the gardens, the
library, every inch of the Red Keep, only to be met with uneasy silence.

Chapter End Notes

Chapter End Notes

Thank you for the lovely comments and kudos on the previous
chapter They were all so lovely to read!

Lucerys, when Aemond wanted to go find Beth:

( ️_ ️) ️ ❗\
(◕_ ️)/
 silence
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The whole Red Keep fell into disarray as Aemond commanded every guard and servant alike to
search for his Queen.

Once, years ago, before the war had broken out, when Maelor was yet to have been born, Helaena
had attempted to escape on Dreamfyre with Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, only to have been caught by
the Kingsguard, who promptly dragged his shrieking sister back to her bed chambers.

Mother had been inconsolable then, as she prayed over Helaena’s form when she slept, muttering
words of the mother she held closer to her chest as the years had passed.

Only then they discovered that Aegon had brought one of his whores into his bed, scaring the
children when Helaena had come to visit with them in tow.

He fought with Aegon then, filled with rage for his treatment of their sweet sister, shoving his
brother to the ground, only growing more incensed when Aegon laughed bitterly in his face, telling
him their mother and grandfather were to blame for the mess he found himself in.

With the memory of his sister’s failed escape, he found himself bolting toward the Dragonpit.

The dragon keepers seemed confused as they pointed shakily in the direction of where Vhagar and
Arrax rested. The smell of dirt and grime did little to quell the building dread in his heart as he
sprinted toward his war-hardened companion.

Vhagar let out a displeased roar, with none of the sweetness the older she-dragon used to treat him
with when he was a young child.

Aemond remembered the time Vhagar had nuzzled his small self when his eye was taken, and had
skirted the waters on his flight back from Driftmark to Kings Landing in a small attempt to cheer
his crying self up.

To his dismay, Arrax was nowhere to be found. However, his mate’s smaller, irksome dragon had
an injury on his foot. There was no way Lucerys could have flown off with him. There was no
way. He thought deliriously, his heart pounding loudly in his ears, the sound alarming in the
muddled silence that surrounded the decrepit dragonpit.

Vhagar continued to roar at him as if aggravated by his presence for some reason. It was like he
had done something truly unforgivable to her to have deserved such ire.

As if sensing his worry, the fear that had begun to take root in his chest, spreading like poisonous
vines, making him faint in his steps, the sordid fear he felt for his mate and their children, Vhagar
huffed, and with a loud grunt started to unfurl her curled wings, giving Aemond a full view of the
sight that lay underneath.

Lucerys sat on the ground. His mate leaned on Arrax, who had started to shriek loudly, baring his
teeth and angrily parading his horns at Aemond. In Lucerys’s arms, he held both Aerys and Aeresa,
his children babbling in delight as they took in the presence of their alpha sire.

The omega’s face was reddened, streaked with tears as he stared at Aemond, terror evident in his
beautiful eyes, clutching Aerys and Aeresa close to his chest as he started to back away slowly
from his approaching form, as if afraid he would snatch the children away from his hold.

Aemond let out a sigh, both in relief and sadness, before he settled down next to Lucerys, who had
begun to shake violently beside him. The murky smell of the sea had turned pungent, acrid as he
controlled himself from hugging his mate, with only the boiling anger that ran under his heated
skin preventing him from doing so.

“I am sorry,” The omega shakily wailed, tears cascading down his face, as their babies started to
coo, reaching anxiously toward their distressed mother. “The whispers in the castle, they spoke of
how you had a new omega in your chambers. It mattered not that she was the babe’s wet nurse, I
could only see her having you in the late of the night, while I was alone.” His face was crumpled
up like he had been caught between crying and yelling.

It was a face Lucerys made only in front of Aemond, which appeared during times where tensions
ran thick. When the small council had advised against the boy’s request to include his mother as
the rightful Queen in the transcripts, for one. Lucerys had shoved the parchments and books that
lay on the council table onto the floor in a fit of rage when the small council had left.

It was Aemond’s least favourite face to see on Lucerys. But he could not make sense of it, not
when sadness and regret coursed through Aemond like a crashing wave, as he tried to ground
himself, tried to make light of the sight before him, of his mate's words.
He wanted to scream at Lucerys, wanted to tell him that because of his selfishness, Beth had been
injured, irreversibly so.

The woman who had done nothing but love their child, when even his own mother had rejected
him. The nights where Beth had spoken to him happily of her own children, her brave son who
tried so hard to play with his wooden sword, despite having been only born with an arm and a leg,
and her young daughter whom her husband doted on as she looked just like her, and reminded him
of her when she was off for her work that lasted for days on end at the Red Keep.

It was difficult, impossible even to reconcile the image he had of Lucerys, the omega who smiled
joyfully at him, had kissed him softly when his eyes fell on the dragonglass Aemond had sourced
from Dragonstone, with the Lucerys who hurt the only woman who had been willing to care for
their child.

Aemond could not help it, could not help the anger, disappointment and grief that creased his own
features.

Only when Lucerys’s face twisted up upon seeing the expression that lined his face, was when he
realised he had been a second too late in maintaining the expressionless facade he had cultivated so
well.

Yet, his instincts to protect his mate and children won out in the end. He was weak, undoubtedly
so. He knew this, as he retrieved Aerys and Aeresa, pulling them from a sniffling Lucerys’s hold as
he placed the omega on his back.

It was ever so clear, that it was impossible Lucerys would ever love him. The feelings he had were
undoubtedly unreciprocated and had caused them as a mated pair more strife than good. The war
that had torn their families apart bridged too much of a gap for them to ever close. They were
destined to stand mountains apart, even in their union, bathed in the hatred and blood that
tormented their past.

The words that left his mouth surprised him, as he carried the whimpering omega back into the
castle.

“I am sorry too, Lucerys. For everything.” He said softly, as Aeresa pushed her tiny hand onto his
cheek, little consolation to the sheer bleakness he felt. It was like something had died within him,
left to wilt in the rot of hope that had started to bloom in the depths of his heart.
Aemond could feel the omega tremble on his back, as the boy broke out into a mournful cry, one
filled with suffering.

“I have ruined everything.”

Things had changed since then. In the week that followed, Aemond had moved back into Lucerys’s
chambers. His mate had wordlessly brought Aemond’s items back into their former shared bed
chambers and had instructed the servants to bring their third child along.

They slept in separate beds, however, as requested by Aemond, hoping to ease the detestation his
mate held for him.

The babes were born, and there was no need for his presence any longer, perhaps only to care for
the children when Lucerys was unable to. It confused him greatly when the omega had turned
away when the servants had brought in the additional bed, his lips pursed and trembling.

Aemond’s disgruntlement, his alpha’s lament and rage at being so close to his mate, yet not being
able to touch him, to hold him close was worth it, when the third babe gurgled happily at being in
the presence of both his sire and dam.

The babe, although still scaled, although still shied away from by the maesters and maids, was
growing stronger by the day, his condition seeming to improve slowly yet steadily ever since they
had placed him in Lucerys’s chambers.

The child was inconsolable at first, howling with pained cries when he woke up to realise Beth was
no longer by his side, only for him to dissolve into quiet sniffles as he was lulled to sleep,
surrounded by a mixture of Lucerys’s and some of Beth’s clothes that he had the servants retrieve
from her old quarters.

It was painful, seeing Beth in her state, her face unrecognisable and her arms lined with bandages
and ointments the maesters had administered. The once jovial girl was addled on the milk of the
poppy, to help with the pain, the maesters had insisted.
Even now, he was unsure of the effects of the pain aid his father had been drunk on for a majority
of the later part of his life. Aegon, even after having been burnt and having faced the loss of his
mobility, his legs crunched beyond repair, had refused the treatment, spitting at a dumbfounded
maester Orwyle when offered it.

For all the wrongs his brother had committed, he was a tenacious war beetle who refused to die,
who seemed to thrive off his need for revenge until the bitter end.

The guards had brought Beth’s family to the Red Keep and housed them in bed chambers adjacent
to hers. It was a horrible thing that Aemond had yet to face them, for the shame and guilt he felt for
allowing such a thing to happen had suffocated him, had prevented him in his steps to make peace
with them.

It was only the generous offering of gold he had sent to them, a poor attempt to quell the pain
Beth’s condition had inadvertently brought her family.

The blacksmith was almost finished with the replacement limbs for her son, and Aemond hoped
that by the time they were presented to her son, Beth's condition would have improved. He could
only hope to whatever lay out there, for praying to the Mother seemed to bring more woe than
salvation.

He often watched, enraptured from his place on his bed as his child clung onto his dragon egg with
a possessiveness Aemond failed to see in Aerys and Aeresa, as if afraid it would be stolen from him
at any moment.

The babe bawled loudly in protest whenever Aemond tried prying the egg gently from his arms, to
feed him with the milk the Lucerys had provided. Aerys and Aeresa started to wail as well,
disturbed at their younger brother’s cries while Aemond frantically tried to soothe his crying
children.

He could feel Lucerys’s eyes on him, boring into him whenever he cared for their children, only
for the omega to turn away quickly whenever Aemond looked up to meet his gaze.

To his wonder, the presence of the dragon egg had rapidly helped the babe in his recovery, and he
even seemed to take happily with feeding from the cheesecloth, as he hungrily gulped down the
milk from his mother. It seemed that it mattered not to the babe that he fed from a breast, but that
the milk was imbued with the scent of the presence of the one he so wanted to feel.
The necklace that Lucerys had left for their third child continued to hang on the side of his new
cradle, the jewel of red, glinting, shimmering in the light of the moon that shone into their room.

Still, he was unsure of the meaning of the necklace, and why Lucerys had chosen to leave it for
their child.

However, he did not ask, for he and Lucerys had barely spoken a word to one another since the
hopeless day he had retrieved his mate from the dragonpit.

Ever since things between them had been laid bare, the silence had been loud between them, akin
to the shifting winds of the night that breezed over the salted sea. Gone was the teasing Lucerys
had showered him with in the later months of his pregnancy, as he looked at him with his deep dark
eyes, luminous even in the dim light.

Aemond was only grateful that Lucerys was now willing to at least look upon their third child, was
at least willing to let him into the bed chambers with Aerys and Aeresa, was letting him care for all
three of them.

It was difficult, taking care of Aerys, who seemed to fuss more than any child he had ever cared
for, his sister and brother’s children included. Thankfully Aeresa had none of the fussiness of her
brother. His little girl blinked at him silently with her violet eyes, swatting Aerys away when
Aemond attempted to swaddle the two upon his chest. Despite his firstborn looking the most like
him, with his nose and colouring, it appeared that his daughter had taken after him in his
temperament as a child.

It was a shame he was not able to carry his third babe, for his skin, which continued to shed for
days on end, had grown sensitive to the touch, often needing various salves and herbs to be
applied.

It worried Aemond to no end, seeing the tender red flesh that was revealed once his scales had
fallen off, and it was of little consolation that the child seemed to look on happily whenever his
siblings were brought near him, his chestnut eyes wide with wonder as he observed his womb
mates curiously.

Still, the neverending peeling of the babe’s scales had fear gripping his heart in a chokehold, had
him unable to be truly at peace, as he looked upon his small son, his tiny child without a name, as
his clawed fingers grasped tightly onto his dragon egg.
Aerys, especially, often cried loudly at night, only calming when Aemond rocked him in his arms
as he lulled the babe to sleep. Lucerys had offered to nurse the child, toddling over to Aemond’s
side, his eyes heavy with sleep, only for Aemond to chide at him softly to head back to bed. The
boy had stormed back then, laying his blanket above his head in a huff.

The maester had solemnly told Aemond that the omega had been struggling with the effects of his
afterbirth, as triplets were an uncommon occurrence in Westeros.

Despite the bleak, cold relationship he had with his mate, the deep-rooted convoluted mixture of
love and hatred he held for him, the idea of Lucerys being lost to him forever was a stark fear that
trampled upon the recesses of his mind.

It scared him horribly, terrified him so much that he took to tending to the children at night, while
Lucerys nursed them whenever he could during the day.

They worked together now, silently on the desks of their bed chambers, as they scoured through
the various ledgers and requests from the various great lords of the realm. The only sound in the
room being the cooing of their children and the inking of their quills, as they scribbled on their
respective parchments.

The exchanges remained clipped, curt between them, even as they cared for their children together,
similar to the early days of their marriage.

The stark difference was that they could no longer go back to avoiding the presence of one another
like the plague, for they now had their babes to care for, who needed them both.

The thread of fate the silent sisters had woven only served to intertwine them closer in the shroud
of death that followed in their steps.

Aemond prepared himself for bed, cracking the joints in his stiff shoulders after putting the babes
to sleep. He checked their cradles once again to make sure nothing was amiss, heart calmed at the
sight of his sleeping children, who would inevitably wake up to reach for his comfort in the deep of
the night.
The alpha trudged toward his bed, wrapping himself in the sheets of his bed before he turned to
dim the dragonglass candle that lay between his and the Queen’s beds.

Lucerys looked to be sleeping, the omega’s back turned on him, as his shallow breaths filtered
through the room.

It had been an especially taxing day. Their attendance at the small council had been fraught with
the vultures of court, eager to prey on the flesh of the new fruit that had been borne from their new
King and Queen’s union. It was of sick consolation that their third child had yet to be presented to
court, saving him the leering gaze of the small council.

The great houses had clamoured furiously as they argued upon potential marriage pacts for his
babes, only to have been petrified into silence when Aemond had unveiled the sapphire eye that lay
upon his scarred face with a derisive bang on the heavy table.

Even his obstinate mate had shrunk away, his ramblings on how House Stark was a potential
alliance he had in mind for one of their future daughters cut short as he gazed at the table, blatantly
evading his gaze.

It was something the two had done much of late, avoiding looking upon one another’s face.

The mere idea of his sons and daughter being bartered off like cattle to further the ambitions of the
greedy lords had him reeling in rage. The unwanted memory of Otto Hightower swam in his mind
then, something he was unable to will away no matter how hard he tried.

Aemond looked to the window, the face of the full moon shining into their bed chambers, chasing
away the darkness of the night sky, before he shifted in his bed, as he tried his best to let sleep find
him.

“Husband, shall we have Aerys and Aeresa betrothed to each other?” His mate's small tentative
voice sounded softly from across the room, shocking him out of his ease.

“We shall discuss this later, Lucerys.” Aemond replied curtly, trying to curb his rapidly rising
displeasure at the omega’s statement.

Aerys and Aeresa were babes; their children were not even able to walk on their own, not even able
to protest potential engagements they might not have favoured.

Images of Aegon and Helaena flashed in his mind, their mismatch of personalities and the gloom
that fraught their whole marriage.

Helaena was too sweet, too kind to have been dealt a husband like his brother. It was like drawing
the jester in the already appalling deck she had been dealt, the wicked laugh of the fool
foreshadowing her untimely demise.

His dear sister, who pored over books of romance in the library in their youth, who muttered words
none of them could ever understand, lest of all his brother, had been chained to Aegon like a
flightless bird, unable to escape the grasps of her mind even in the last moments of her life.

Aemond closed his eyes yet again, only to have been jolted to consciousness by the muffled sound
of sobs that came from his mate’s bed.

Lucerys was crying. His mate was crying.

He stilled in his bed, not moving an inch.

Aemond was torn.

A part of him so desperately wanted to run over, to hug the omega close, to bring him solace in the
pain he felt. Aemond could feel his hands twitch as his sides, ready to push himself up, to offer
Lucerys much-needed comfort.

The resentment he held toward Lucerys, the scarred face of Beth high on the milk of the poppy,
still bubbled in his chest, something he could not shake, something that had continued to eat at the
dear memories he clung onto so desperately regarding the boy.

Perhaps Lucerys did not want his comfort, and all the overthinking he was doing in his bed was in
vain.

His touch would probably disgust the omega. After all, Aemond was no longer needed close;
 Lucerys's belly no longer swelled with the babes that required his presence.

Yet, at the end of the day, Aemond was weak. Was weak to the ones he held dear.

When Helaena had been taken, he had shaken his brother in violent outrage, overcome with
anguish and heartache at the loss of their sister. He had vowed silently then, to never fight on his
side ever again.

But even then, the fondness he held for the boy Aegon once was, his cherished memories with his
brother, the loyalty he had for his mother who had lost her youth, lost her daughter and son, led
him into battle time and time again as he waved their family sigil on the battlefield, drowning
towns and settlements in a sea of blood. Blood that stained his hands.

The bed sank as he slipped into Lucerys’s bed, the omega’s cries only getting louder.

He almost retreated, his heart sinking at the realisation that he had made a horrible mistake, that
his presence was indeed an unwanted one.

To his disbelief, his husband buried his face into his chest, curling his arms around Aemond's body
as loud sobs began to wrack his small, shaking frame.

Chapter End Notes

*crawls out from hibernation*

Thank you for the comments and kudos on the previous chapter, I am so grateful for
them all ❤️

The sleeping situation:

️ ( ️_ ️)
(◕_ ️) ️

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, they are so fun to

read
 respite
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

His mate’s cries only continued to get louder, sounding off the walls of their bed chambers, as he
clung onto Aemond with desperation the alpha had never seen before.

Lucerys was hurting, Lucerys was crying.

Despite his confusion, Aemond continued to hold him close, circling his arms around him, as his
shirt began to dampen with tears.

Aemond could never get used to seeing others cry, despite it being a common occurrence within
his family. He grew up having grown accustomed to the tears of Aegon and his mother. His mother
always insisted that Aegon and herself were cut from different cloths, that he was a son she could
not understand, so vastly different from herself, so vastly different from Aemond. But their tears
that flowed so freely proved otherwise.

He tried consoling his husband in the best way he could, softly hushing him as he stroked the back
of his trembling, shaking back.

It seemed like hours went by, of Lucerys grasping onto him as if Aemond was an apparition that
would disappear at any moment, before his anguished cries faded into small sniffles.

“You hate me.” He choked out, continuing to clutch onto him.

With Lucerys’s face buried in his chest, it was difficult to make out his expression.

But Aemond knew Lucerys by his breaths, by the pattering of his steps, by his scent, would know
him even if the world was shrouded in fire and blood.

“Look at me, Lucerys,” Aemond said, perplexed at the omega’s words, wanting to understand his
nephew’s mind. He could only sigh as Lucerys shook his head, continuing to grip his night shirt
with increasing intensity.
“I could never hate you.” He said, voice breaking.

Lucerys was the mother of his children, his mate. His thoughts were ones the Faith would have
deemed a sin. ‘There is no higher truth than the Mother, the Faith,’ his mother had preached to
him, as they prayed together in the Sept, ‘You must remember that, Aemond.’

But it did not stop his devastating thoughts, thoughts that wormed their way into the recesses of his
mind: Lucerys, their children, could have burned the whole of Westeros down, and he would still
try to fight the Faith themselves, the Mother herself, if they tried to take his small family away.

“You must, after what I did to Beth,” Lucerys continued to weep, “I tried visiting her, I wanted to, I
swear it Aemond. I couldn't do it. Her husband was by her bedside, what could I even say?”
Lucerys cried, his small frame trembling, his voice watery, “The healer from Qarth should be
arriving on the morrow, to see to her wounds. I will make things right, I swear it upon my mother’s
memory.”

“That- That is kind of you,” Aemond whispered, his voice pinched, as he inhaled, exhaled, trying
to gather his thoughts, lest the wetness that had begun to gather in his eyes overflow.

“Kind? I have been far from kind. You hate me, you hate me and-” Lucerys continued, his sobs
growing increasingly loud.

“You know nothing of my mind Lucerys.” He replied, trying to shift Lucerys, trying to get the boy
to look at him.

“I do! You ignore me, you refuse to sleep with me, you refuse to talk to me. You-”

“It is you who hates me, Lucerys.”

“Hate you? Perhaps I do husband. I hate you so. I hate you so much my heart burns whenever I
look upon you,” Lucerys said, meeting his gaze for the first time, his eyes bloodshot, burning with
the wetness from his tears. Aemond wanted to wipe them away.

There it was. The hatred that burned so brightly, so starkly between them, like an undying flame
even when soaked in the deep of the sea, refusing to be smothered. No amount of children between
them could ever rid of it.

Aemond’s throat felt tight. It was like Helaena’s hand around his throat, her cries choking him as
she pleaded to the Seven to bring back her children. Yet now it was so much worse. Lucerys’s
words were knives, slitting the veins that ran through his body from the inside out, painting him
red.

“But the thought of you leaving me, the thought of you being with another, it’s unbearable. It tears
me apart, it makes me go mad.” Lucerys continued, a new wave of tears pooling down his cheeks,
as he wiped them away furiously with the back of his hand. “What I feel for you…It makes me do
unspeakable things.”

“I do not understand.” he breathed. A dozen birds were fluttering in his chest, taking flight.

“Neither can I. I cannot even understand myself. I sometimes wonder if my mother is watching me,
if she is damning me to the Seven Hells for feeling this way, if she understands how truly wretched
I am.”

“I-” Aemond started, wanting to speak.

“Allow me to finish, Aemond.” Lucerys warbled, taking Aemond’s face between his two, small
hands. His palm soft against his rough jaw.

“I fear I will hate you for the rest of our lives. Alas, I played my part in the war, I have done
appalling things, as have you. But your family ruined mine. You might deem it differently, but this
is how I feel. I cannot change how I feel, Aemond.” Lucerys’s voice sounded steadier, the light of
the moon reflecting on his dark irises.

“Could you live with that, Aemond? Say you won’t, say you won’t and I will allow you to leave, to
Essos, to Pentos, to even Oldtown. Wherever you desire. I can care for the children, I-”

His voice cut off with a tremble, and Lucerys started to sniffle, the tears that seemed to stop
tracking down his wet cheeks yet again. He was clinging onto him, his nails digging into the
crevices of his face, painfully, desperately.
“Whatever you feel for me, I will take it in whole. Every part of you is something I can accept,
husband.” Aemond said, his voice low, broken. His face wet, eyepatch damp. He could not even
pinpoint why he was crying, if his tears were happy or ones of sadness. “I would never leave you
or our children.”

Aemond wanted to say more, wanted to say that he was sorry. That he was sorry for what occurred
at Storms End. That he was sorry for that day, when a furious storm raged over Shipbreaker Bay, a
sign of warning from the Gods. That he was sorry for the start of the dreaded cycle of events that
led to where they were today.

But the words felt like half a lie, half a truth. Searing, acrid in his throat.

A soft coo came from one of the babe’s cradles then, as Lucerys released Aemond’s face from his
grasp, pushing away the blankets in a hurry to get to their awakened babe.

Aemond followed in his stead, already recognising the sound of their babe, standing beside
Lucerys as he retrieved their third child from his cradle, rocking him with hushed words.

“I am a horrible mother.” Lucerys said softly, his voice still hoarse, lined with emotion “I could not
bear to lose anyone dear to me again, lest I be driven to madness. But our little one deserved none
of that.” Aemond’s heart swelled, threatening to burst out his chest as he watched Lucerys gaze at
their child with soft, tear-filled eyes.

“You cared for Aerys and Aeresa, you gave me three beautiful children. I felt angry, betrayed,
yes,” Aemond said solemnly as he placed an arm around his mate’s shaking shoulders, “But
Lucerys, I will not have you calling yourself a horrible mother. You are far from it.”

Their babe was smiling now, his little face, a face so different from that of his siblings, lined with
all the hardships he had gone through in his short life, cooing happily as Lucerys and Aemond
placed their fingers on each of his tiny hands, grasping each of their fingers in tandem as he stared
at them with his dark brown eyes.

“He needs a name, husband,” There was a small, sad smile on Lucerys’s face, as he leaned into
Aemond. “Our babe needs a name.”

“You should name him, Lucerys,” Aemond said, his mind reeling, overwhelmed with unspoken
emotion, with joy, with regret, swirling in his heart like a violent wind.
“I could not, not after what I have done.” Their babe fussed as drops of Lucerys’s tears dripped
onto his face, “You must name him.”

“He loves you,” Aemond said, voice raw, as he watched the babe snuggle closer into Lucerys,
continuing to gurgle happily. “Our child wants you to name him.”

“I do have a name. But I fear you would not like it,” Lucerys said slowly, swallowing, “I-I want
you to like it.”

“I would like any name you give our child,” It wasn’t something Aemond said for appeasement's
sake, the honesty of the words ringing true in his chest, his throat going dry. “As long as it is you
who names him.”

“Jacaerion, his name shall be Jacaerion.”

The days passed in a blur, the rising sun and moon making their rounds with a quickness that left
him breathless. The autumn wind had melted away, ushering in the sweet scent of spring. Their
children relished in the warmer weather, shedding off their furs and crooning merrily during their
daily walks in the lush castle gardens. Aemond had fretted over Aeresa when his daughter started
to squirm in her coat, bundling her up in her dark furs even tighter than before, in the fear that she
would catch a chill.

“She wants to feel the breeze, husband,” Lucerys said, mirth dancing in his dark eyes, “Come, let
me help.”

Despite his indignant protests, as he insisted that their daughter was far too small to withstand such
cold, Lucerys pulled her coat away, inciting a wave of cheerful giggles from Aeresa as she flailed
her small arms. Much to his dismay, his daughter batted his hands that attempted to pull the coat
around her frame away, to the amusement of his snickering husband. Aerys followed with excited
squawks of his own, not wanting to be left out, wriggling in the cloth Aemond had him fastened
safely to his chest with, only ceasing when Lucerys proceeded to remove his heavy coat as well.

Jacaerion lay calmly in Lucerys’s arms, blinking curiously at his rambunctious siblings as they
walked through the familiar gardens. The little thing had grown, not with the quickness of his
siblings, but had grown nonetheless. It was all Aemond could hope for, truly.

Hardened scales of gold lined the left side of Jacaerion’s face, on the expanse of part of his back,
along his right leg, with smatterings on other locations of his small body. The hair on his head had
sprouted in small tufts as well, pale silver hair similar to that of Aerys and Aeresa, similar to that of
Aemond’s own.

The past two moons had been frightening, for both him and his mate. A moon ago, Jacaerion had
startled Aemond and Lucerys from their slumber, with screams so pitiful, he could only think back
to the time when the babe had no name, during the days when he cried in pain throughout the long
nights.

The dread that had started to build, pounded through his chest, as they hurried to apply the salve
and herbs to Jacaerion’s peeling skin, the scales shedding unrelentingly, in frightening amounts,
amounts Aemond had yet to witness. His husband had started to weep, shaky hands pressing the
herbs into their son’s skin, as if trying to hold their child together, afraid that he would break apart
at the seams.

The scales that constantly shed from Jacaerion’s skin, having to be cleaned daily from his cot, had
stopped after that very day. By midday, the child had fallen into a deep sleep, tired from the pain
he had been laden with the previous night, with Aemond holding his finger near his nose to check
his breathing, as Lucerys watched on, clutching his arm, eyes red-rimmed.

Jacaerion’s skin was pink, fresh, with only the scales that lined the side of his face, back and leg
present. They continued to apply the herbs as the maester had advised, and as the days passed, the
redness on his skin started to fade, and the remaining scales had hardened into a golden yellow.
Jacerion’s face started to change as well, his tiny nose, lips, morphing into a shape similar to that of
his siblings.

Aemond could never understand when his mother grasped her hands, eyes welling with emotion as
she patted his shoulders, griping on how he was growing too fast for his own good.

Yet as he watched his children, watched their coos slowly louden in volume, their cries lessen in
frequency as the months stretched on, watched as their little faces slowly started to form into
features that resembled himself and Lucerys, only then he was faced with the stark realisation: No
time in the world was enough for him to gaze upon them.

Aerys, his firstborn, was the fussiest of all their children. The maids and Lucerys often exclaimed
that the boy looked exactly like his alpha sire, from the silver of his hair to the shape and colour of
his eyes, coupled with the slant of his nose. But all Aemond could see in the child was his mate.

Aerys reminded him so much of a young Lucerys, from the time when things had been different, so
many years ago.

Jacaerys had snuck him into the nursery, avoiding the watchful eye of their parents, as he
introduced his little brother to an awestruck Aemond. There was a little babe lying in the crib, with
curls of dark hair that sprouted from his head. “His hair is curly, like Aegon’s,” Aemond said. The
little thing stared up at him curiously, eyes wide, before he made grabby motions, inciting him to
move closer. Aemond could only wince in pain amidst Jacaerys’s chiming peals of laughter when
the babe grabbed hold of his hair and pulled hard.

Proving his thoughts to be not ones of his own musings, Aerys started to reach for his hair, tugging
on it rather painfully, and breaking into a loud bawl when Aemond pushed his hair back, removing
it from his son’s reach. Aeresa smacked his face in annoyance, provoking yet another onslaught of
tears from his demanding son as Aemond fretted over him, offering him his hair to pull on yet
again.

Cringing as his hair was tugged on by his rambunctious child, he could feel Lucerys’s eyes on him,
his mate’s face lined with the most secretive of smiles. Aemond quickly turned away, not wanting
to look upon Lucerys’s face for too long, as he unsuccessfully tried to will away the flush that
began to build on the tip of his ears, trying to forget the image of Lucerys, the dark, tantalising dip
of his dark blue dress, loose enough to allow him to feed their children with ease.

Things had improved between them, ever since the confrontation that night in their bed chambers.
The spare bed had disappeared from the room the day after, and Aemond found himself settling to
sleep next to Lucerys whenever the sun set.

It was difficult sleeping aside Lucerys. The omega’s frame was soft and enticing, with the dips that
childbirth had gifted him, his chest swelling with milk for their children. It was craven, deplorable
of him to even think of touching him when there was still so much left unsaid between them. They
had children, three at that, and had done their duty to the realm and more. Still, it didn’t stop his
traitorous body from hardening whenever Lucerys shifted by his side, every movement electric,
scorching, like the early days of their marriage.

Conversation flowed between them as smoothly as Aemond could ever hope for. It was still stilted,
still fraught with tension at the most inopportune of times, but there seemed to be a common
understanding between them as they discussed affairs of the realm, discussed the future of their
children, whispering to each other when the babes were tucked into their cots, in the morning light,
when their children had yet to wake before they were inevitably pulled toward the sound of their
coos, signalling the start of their day.

There were times when Lucerys even spoke of his family.

It was strange, the way he spoke of Jacaerys. The love Lucerys had for his brother seemed so
different from what he had for Aegon. Aegon had been a thorn in his side, a weed that seemed to
require Aemond’s very presence, watered with the streams of tears that overflowed from their
mother to go on in his days. His brother had syphoned every bit of Aemond he could reach with his
grubby hands. Yet, Aemond let him.

Lucerys spoke of his brother freely, as if Jacaerys was one he looked up to, turned to for advice, for
comfort in trying times. It all sounded foreign to his ears. Aemond never looked up to Aegon. In
fact, it was Aegon who turned to him, his face reddened, splotchy with tears and bile, their mother
shaking him, as he curled into a drunken, delirious heap on the floor.

“Has he always been like this?” Daeron had questioned him, his usually serene face twisted in a
mixture of disgust and concern, holding his nose as they helped their brother from the floor.
Aemond could only nod silently in assent. Daeron knew nothing, had been carted off to Oldtown as
an infant, only seeing their family during the times when they returned to visit. He hated his
younger brother at times, free from the strife court life brought them, free from the burden Aemond
had laden himself with.

“Jace, he loved Baela. I know he did,” Lucerys said softly, facing Aemond as they lay in their bed,
staring into each other. “But when we finally met again, he was different… He sent so many
ravens to God knows where, and there was the scent of another lying under his skin. I think I
smelled it recently at court, or at one of the feasts we had, but I couldn’t be sure…”

His mate was nibbling on his lip, averting his eyes. Aemond knew his mate, after almost two years
of marriage, he could tell when Lucerys was hiding something.

It was not an uncommon occurrence for unmated alphas, especially ones of royal standing, to be
enticed away by common omegas while away from their home court. Jacaerys had been betrothed
to Baela, but it did not exclude him from the proclivities that so many indulged in. His brother for
one, did nothing to hide his vices, despite his mother’s screams and Otto’s shouts, there had been
whore after whore of his, hiding in the shadows of the Red Keep. He told Lucerys as such, quickly
reaffirming his mate that he was not one to ever disrespect his marriage vows.

“I know, Aemond. I know now that you would never do such a thing,” Lucerys said, stroking the
arm of Aemond’s nightshirt, his scent peaking happily for a moment, “No, the scent wasn’t that of
an omega. It was that of an alp-”

Lucerys stilled, halting his words as his gaze flickered away yet again, his brows furrowed.

A female alpha it was, then. He tried to recall a female alpha from Winterfell who had graced their
halls during the feasts they held, but his mind only drew a blank.

Jacaerion had fallen asleep in his mate’s arms, something that happened often when they took their
walks in the gardens. While Aerys and Aeresa seemed to revel in seeing the outside world beyond
that of their parents bed chambers, his youngest easily tired, especially when the weather had
started to cool. Worried for his weak disposition, the unnerving thought of his child’s blankets not
serving to keep him warm enough at night, Aemond had requested for heated sacks of hot water to
be placed under the bedding of his cot. The boy had warbled happily in his sleep, his small arms
intertwined around his dragon egg as he relished in the new heat he was surrounded with.

The eggs of his children had yet to hatch, and Aemond found himself glaring at them anxiously,
willing them to move, but finding himself led back to the very predicament his childhood had been
strife with. As if sensing his unease, Lucerys had quickly assured him that their children were still
young yet. “They are barely three moons, husband. In fact, both Jace and Joffrey’s eggs hatched
when they were four and six moons respectively.” Aemond could only hope his mate was right, a
majority of the dragons, even adult ones that were claimable had been laid to dust, their lives
claimed in the bloodshed that the war had brought.

They continued to walk through the gardens, Lucerys chattering happily to their children, telling
them tales of when Arrax was a youngling. Aemond was unsure of how much his mate had
embellished them, surely there was no way a dragon would be able to play games of chase with
their rider. Vhagar herself welcomed him with a thundering growl whenever he greeted her in his
younger days, but had slowly started rumbling in slumber, the sand around her flying from her
heaving snores when Aemond leaned by her frame, telling her of the ongoings of court, telling her
of the progress of his sword practice with ser Criston, telling her of the deep-seated loathing that
burned in his chest.

“Gwah!” Lucerys’s vivid story was halted, the words dying on his lips when Aerys let out a
delighted squeal.

Aemond turned to the side, wanting to see what his son had taken notice of, only to be met with the
sight of a small child with dark hair, holding books with his good arm, as he was led away by one
of the septas. Large chunks of steel, fashioned into an arm and leg were attached to his body,
flashing in the light of the afternoon sun as the child slowly faded from their view.
The child was of five years, as he recalled Beth telling him previously, a child who loved to read.
A wandering septon had taught the children in their village during his short stay. It was shocking to
hear of a child, a peasant child no less, who knew the way of the written word. Even some of the
richest of Lords had no interest in learning such things. “He loves to look through books, whatever
books we can find when we shift through the waste of the richer houses.” Beth said proudly, as she
tended to Jacaerion, “Even though me and my husband remain unsure on how to teach him.”

Aeresa had started to fidget in his arms, his usually calm daughter’s face scrunched up into a
frown. The scent of the fresh flowers imbued in the air had quickly turned sour, putrid with
Lucerys’s distressed scent, his lips pursed as his dark eyes grew watery.

Aemond wanted to say something, anything, to bring solace to Lucerys. Even though his words
would likely do little to help.

The healer from Qarth had arrived two moons ago, as Lucerys and Aemond watched over him tend
to Beth, her bed chamber shrouded in the scents of oils, the milk of the poppy fed to her in doses by
one of the maesters that sat by her bedside. Lucerys had insisted on being present, to ensure the
man whom they called from so far away would be able to do right by the girl who lay in the very
bed.

The healer trailed his hands over her wounds, clucking sympathetically as he observed her gnashed
skin, laden with ointments the maesters had slathered, which seemed to help little with the red
streaks that ran down the expanse of her skin. Aemond’s stomach lurched at the very sight, guilt
churning in his throat, suffocating his very self. Lucerys stood by him, his mate pale, ashen, as he
observed the healer bark out sharp commands to the affronted maester, before he removed
concoctions of his own from the lavishly embellished bag he had brought.

Beth’s eyelids twitched, only to still after the healer had left in a flurry of robes and potions,
leaving behind extensive instructions that he filled the frantically nodding maester on. She had
been wrapped in a pungent liquid of yellow, the brew covering her still body, looking nothing like
the cheerful girl who sang happily to Jacaerion as she changed the linens of his cot.

“I am so sorry,” Lucerys said, looking down upon Beth, his hand clasped together, shaking as
Aemond stood beside him.

Beth’s eyes shot open, widening in horror as she took in Lucerys’s form. The sheer fear and terror
was abject, piercing, her eyes shining with them. Evident enough even amongst the mess of torrid
scars that lined her face. They quickly clamped shut, and she nodded her head rapidly,
acknowledging Lucerys’s words as if thinking if she closed her eyes, for just a second, he would no
longer be by her bedside. Her scarred hands trembled violently by her side, clawing into the white
sheets.
 Aemond hurried Lucerys out of the room, calling for the maester to tend to Beth, not wanting her
to suffer any more anguish, lest she fell into hysterics. His mate’s face was blank, his small body
cold, shivering as he leant onto him, Aemond’s arms wrapped around his shoulders, hoping to calm
him, only for them to pass her husband, who stood in front of Beth’s bed chambers, his face devoid
of emotion, bowing to them stiffly, with a stilted ‘Your Graces’, before he rushed into the bed
chamber.

Lucerys continued to stand still, holding Jacaerion who had fallen into slumber, sleeping peacefully
in his arms, as he stared in the direction of where Beth’s child had gone.

“Let us head back to our rooms, husband,” Aemond said softly, doing his best to settle his children.
Aerys and Aeresa had started to fidget in his hold, sensitive to their mother’s sudden change in
emotions, reaching toward Lucerys.

“Ah, yes. Yes. The seamstress should be arriving soon. The fittings for the feast, yes,” Lucerys
replied, shaken out of his daze as he wiped his eyes with the back of his sleeve, “We better get
going, husband. The children might be hungry as well.”

The celebration feast they had arranged to have was quickly approaching, to introduce their
children to the great Lords, to demonstrate that the might of House Targaryen was still everpresent,
with new heirs to continue the reign of their house, reminding them who they had sworn fealty to.
Already, most of the great houses, Lannister, Baratheon and Blackwood had affirmed their
presence for the feast.

Aemond had been unsure if Jacaerion would be allowed to attend, his scaled appearance bound to
incite bouts of shock from the people in attendance, but his doubts had been quickly assuaged
when he laid his eyes upon the three tiny royal garbs of deep red that hung on the wall of their bed
chamber.

Within the day, a raven from Winterfell flew into Kings Landing, announcing the confirmation of
the attendance of one Lord Stark.

Chapter End Notes

*crawls out from hibernation again*

Thank you once again for all the support on the previous chapter
 ️ ❤️( ️_ ️)(◕_ ️)❤️
✨
✨

Do leave a comment if you enjoyed this chapter, they are a joy to

read!
 golden
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

The air of jubilation in the great hall that night was unlike that of any of the festivities or feasts
they held before. The walls of the hall were swathed in shades of red and gold, as servants
streamed into the hall carrying plates upon plates of honeyed and spiced meats, the smell wafting
through air as the lords and ladies dined voraciously on the decadent food Lucerys had
painstakingly coordinated with the cooks to serve to their awaiting guests.

Lucerys had been busy with preparations for the feast, and despite Aemond’s attempts and offers to
help, his husband had implored him to attend council meetings while he busied himself with
meeting the tailors and cooks.

It was a bore attending council without Lucerys. Aemond had grown so accustomed to his mate’s
presence that merely speaking to some of the small council regarding the most minute of things
grated on his already thinning patience. It was only when he was released from the stuffy air of
tension that surrounded the council room, he could truly be at ease.

He had looked forward to council in the past, unknowingly so, in the early days of his and
Lucerys’s marriage, before the boy had fallen pregnant. The japes and jabs toward one another was
something he revelled in, something that distracted him from the loss of his family. Hating on
Lucerys could at least keep his days from being fraught with images of Helaena on the spikes of
Maegor’s holdfast and Aegon choking from poison, his face green as the rest of his life was
drained from him with each pained breath he took.

Other than council matters, Aemond had busied himself with making arrangements for Beth. The
healer from Qarth’s medicine and herbs did much to improve her sordid condition, the appearance
of her wounds improving, and according to the maester, the once open flesh that refused to close
despite the amount of salves they lathered onto her were now starting to show true signs of healing.
Despite this, Beth’s scarring was likely to remain on her body for the rest of her life, in deep
indents that ran through her face and body. Her hair remained chopped, and the little that remained
of it, to Aemond’s dismay, had fallen out due to the toll the ordeal had taken on her body.

An estate in Essos had been prepared for the girl and her family, with a sprawling farm and live-in
servants that Aemond and Lucerys had readied for the girl. “You will never have to work for the
rest of your life, and your children will be cared for,” Aemond had told her solemnly, sitting by her
bedside, feeling her husband’s steely gaze on him, boring into his back. To his surprise, Beth had
replied him, her voice hoarse as she struggled to speak, words crackling as they were released from
her throat. “Thank you, Your Grace. Please allow Symon to stay, he loves the lessons here, and it
would be an honour to have a child of our household learn in the palace.”
He had tentatively requested for Lucerys to come with, for it was his husband’s idea to have
servants available for Beth and her husband’s household once the move was complete.

“You go, Aemond. It would cause the poor girl more distress than comfort to see me,” His mate
had replied morosely, halting the story he was telling a giggling Aerys who sat on his lap, their son
cackling loudly as he clapped his hands. It always shocked Aemond when he saw his firstborn,
who looked so similar to himself but smiled so effortlessly. His mother had often told him of how
he was a stoic child even as a babe, hardly smiling even when she tried bouncing him up and down
on her knee. “You were always the most serious of my children, Aemond,” his mother had said,
softly smiling at him like he was still her small child, even when he had turned three and ten, a
man grown.

“Uh!” Aeresa sounded from her cradle, gurgling as the tiny blue hatchling chittered eagerly beside
her, his wide eyes curious as he stared into his daughter’s eyes, the silver iridescent scales on his
back glimmering as Aeresa babbled to him. His usually stoic daughter, easily irate by her excitable
older brother, seemed to only have such patience for her hatchling and Jacaerion at times. Jacaerion
lay aside her, his younger son worn out from the trip they had taken to the dragonpit just hours
before to visit his and Aeresa’s dragons.

When Aeresa’s egg had hatched days ago, Aemond’s heart had swelled with unexpected elation,
unable to contain the curl of his lips as Lucerys quickly removed the broken shell, allowing the tiny
dragon to slither curiously onto Aeresa’s chest. They had celebrated in their bed chambers that day,
with the servants bringing in plates of desserts piled with steaming oatcakes. Aemond could not
help but stare as Lucerys munched happily on them, the crumbs lining his pink lips as he licked
them away with his tongue.

His husband’s appetite had increased as of late, the image of him feasting on their meals filled
Aemond with satisfaction, had his alpha rumbling with contentment. His mother had frequently
spoke of how it was improper for those after childbirth not to restrain their diets and had often
directed her judgmental gaze toward Helaena, tsking as she scarfed down the pigeon pie she so
loved to eat. Perhaps he was the strange one, for seeing Lucerys’s eyes crinkle in joy after
devouring his favourite foods had Aemond attempting to restrain a smile from blooming on his
face.

“Have some, husband,” Lucerys had said, mouth full as he shoved a blueberry oatcake in front of
Aemond’s face. Aerys screamed on the floor, fat tears rolling down his cheeks as Aeresa’s dragon
hissed as he attempted to touch it.

“My sweet boy, you will have a dragon of your own soon, don’t you worry,” Lucerys said
indulgently, plopping a sniffling Aerys onto his lap as Aeresa curled around her new companion.
Jacaerion sat in Aemond’s lap, chewing on Aemond’s sleeve curiously as he observed Aeresa and
her dragon with sleepy eyes.

His youngest son’s egg had hatched that very night, the sound of cracking shaking himself and
Lucerys out of their slumber as they hurried to his crib, only to find a hatchling of olive green, its
wings tipped with shades of orange furled around Jacaerion, his son crooning, his tiny hands
wrapped around the hatchling’s body.

It was reassuring to Aemond, somehow, that Jacaerion had a dragon of his own, had a companion
to defend him once he and Lucerys were gone from the world. His son showed no further signs of
shedding his scales any further, with the maester deeming it to have hardened to an extent where it
had moulded as one with his skin. Jacaerion would have to live with parts of his face and body
covered in the golden scales he had been born with, and the thought of other children shying away
from his son had Aemond’s heart clenching painfully in his chest. His son tired so easily that even
visits to the dragonpit to visit his hatchling had the babe squealing in excitement for a brief
moment before he started to doze off in Aemond’s arms.

It seemed like news of Aeresa and Jacaerion’s dragon eggs hatching had spread among the lords in
attendance, for a multitude of them had come forward during the feast, pledging their allegiance to
their family once again, with others shamelessly speaking of their own young children, who were
available for betrothals.

Dalton Greyjoy had to be escorted by the servants back to his seat, for the man had pushed his
young son forward, enthusiastically demanding the boy to greet Aeresa, who sat on Aemond’s lap,
his daughter glaring unimpressed at the Greyjoy heir as Lucerys chimed out in his saccharine
voice, the voice his mate used during court, for everyone to return to their seats.

Aemond wanted to slice Greyjoy in half, his hand itching for Blackfyre that lay by his belt. But the
war was over, and with his house swearing fealty to their newly united one, there was no reason, no
good excuse for him to cause such bloodshed on such a happy occasion.

When Dalton Greyjoy first made an appearance in the Throne room shortly after his and Lucerys’s
marriage, he requested for the position of master of ships to be handed to him. Aemond had nearly
throttled him, the bloodlust slaking through him in droves. “Is your brother’s offer off the table
now, Your Grace?” The dishevelled man taunted, smiling crookedly at Aemond as he was dragged
from the throne room by the guards.

“Lord Greyjoy was merely asking a simple question,” Lucerys said snarkily, a wicked smile on his
face as he watched Aemond struggle to reply, his nephew’s scent spiking heavily with want for a
challenge, “Did Uncle Aegon not offer such terms to him before?”
Lorean Lannister and Borros Baratheon had been no different. The men sat aside one another,
whispering contemptuously as their beady eyes roved over their children, falling upon Jacaerion’s
crib that lay aside Aemond. Borros Baratheon looked as grimy as ever. He seemed to have grown
more gluttonous ever since their meeting at Storms End, and the way he devoured the food on his
plate, shouting at the nervous servants for more meats, showed for it. Even looking at the greedy
lord had Aemond feeling lightheaded, his mind a mess as he tried his best to keep the memories of
what had occurred over the dark clouds that stormed over Shipbreaker Bay away, not wanting to
taint such a joyous occasion with memories of the past.

Perhaps he had sensed his discomfort, had sensed the darkness Aemond’s thoughts had begun to be
plagued with, for Lucerys placed his hand in Aemond’s, his nephew looking at him with
something akin to tenderness on his face as he motioned for him to hand Aeresa to himself, placing
Aerys in his lap. His son seemed to thrive in the presence of the court, waving excitedly to the
lords as he babbled in Aemond’s lap, the alpha unable to stop him from pulling on his hair, inciting
peals from laughter from Lucerys as Aemond winced in pain.

Jacaerion was dressed in the garbs of red identical to that of his siblings, and was swaddled in his
blankets, as Lucerys fretted over how their child was to be presented to court. Thankfully after a
second of briefly showing Jacaerion to court, Aemond quickly placed his chirping son back into his
crib, bundling him up in his blankets as he avoided the watchful gazes of the lords and ladies who
had leaned in closer, wanting to catch a closer glimpse of the elusive third child of the Targaryen
family. Lucerys sat beside him, his nephew nibbling on his lips nervously as he commanded the
maestro to begin their performance.

Their little bubble of happiness was all but shattered when Cregan Stark had come forward, stating
his well wishes for the children, proudly presenting the gifts he had brought from Winterfell to
them. Three coats of wolfskin for the babes and various fine jewellery and gold from the free cities
that he had obtained on his journeys.

Aemond had half a mind to tell the man his children already had coats of their own. Coats that
Lucerys loved dressing them in. Yet the smile on Lucerys’s face as he regarded the man had the
words dry up in his throat. The unrelenting sadness was there again, swimming in the pit of his
stomach. It was different from the other times he had seen the Stark Lord. Gone was the fire that
burned within him, turned to ash with the quiet acceptance of defeat.

In the end, he only knew a love that looked at Lucerys from behind.

For the first time, Aemond noticed a mole that graced the side of his mate’s cheek, flexing when
his mate smiled widely as he accepted the gifts, his teeth glimmering, shining as brightly as the
pearls that adorned his hair, as he ordered the servants to take them to their bed chambers. The
swish of his blood-red sleeve was the only thing that grounded Aemond back to reality.

“My son Rickon would like to greet the babes as well and present them with gifts, Your Graces,”
The cretin added, as a small figure poked out from behind his back, nudged forward by his father
as he came forward, bowing to Aemond and Lucerys as he introduced himself. His name was one
Aemond could barely even register, too distracted by the soft smile on Lucerys’s face.

The boy had come forward, obviously excited as he placed the handcrafted wooden dragon figures
in Aerys and Aeresa’s hands, his son immediately waving it around as he started to gurgle in
delight while Aeresa smacked hers onto Lucerys’s chest, his mate giggling as he took the figure
from her hands, placing it on the table.

They were finely made, Aemond distantly realised, staring at the figurine in his son’s hands,
wishing for the feast to end, wishing for Cregan Stark to be gone, for Lucerys and himself to be
alone in their chambers with their children.

In the midst of them tending to Aerys and Aeresa, neither of them noticed the Stark child darting
toward Jacaerion’s cradle, lifting the blanket to peek at their son, only for a shrill scream to follow,
reverberating through the Great Hall.

Jacaerion was inconsolable, bawling loudly as Aemond tried to hush him, cradling him against his
chest. The garb of red they had dressed their son in had been soaked in spit, and Aemond could
only steady his hands the best he could as he wiped down his distressed son.

"Let me hold him, husband," Lucerys's familiar voice sounded from behind him as he held onto
Jacaerion tighter, unwilling to let his child go, "Please," Lucerys continued to plead, tugging onto
Aemond's sleeve as he attempted to take Jacaerion from his arms.

“You are scaring him, Lucerys,” Aemond snapped, trying to ignore the pang in his chest at the
look of hurt that flashed across his mate’s face.

Aerys fidgeted in his cradle, his tiny face scrunched into a frown, a sign of his impending cry as
Aeresa squirmed aside him, peering up at them with her imploring violet eyes, darting from
Lucerys’s shaking form to Aemond’s stoic one.
“I am his mother, Aemond,” Lucerys replied, his eyes shining with unshed tears, tears Aemond
could not find in himself to be moved by.

“You allowed that cretin’s son to touch mine, to make a mockery of him in front of the entire
court,” Aemond stormed out, continuing to soothe a sobbing Jacaerion in his hold, his son’s tears
and spittle wetting the lapels of the finely made fabric of red and gold Lucerys had insisted on the
tailors to make for himself.

“How was I to know such a thing would happen?” his mate whispered back angrily, tugging down
the front of his dress, exposing his swollen chest to the low light that lit their bed chambers.

It was the first time Aemond had seen his mate bared to him since his pregnancy. Even when
Lucerys nursed their children, Aemond would shy away from gazing upon him, not wanting their
newly repaired relationship to be darkened by his own lustful impulses. It would not be fair to
Lucerys. It would not be fair to their children, whose well-being was tethered on the thin string of
affinity that ran between him and his mate, held together only by hastily made knots the fates had
threaded in pity.

He had envisioned how Lucerys would look in the rare moments he was alone, his mind
unconsciously wandering to the sheen of Lucerys’s shoulder as he fed their children, the low dip in
his dress and the plushness of his form, when he arose some days in the morning, only to find his
husband pressed against him, his soft curled hair tickling him, teasing him, as he burrowed his face
into Aemond’s neck.

He could only still, counting and reciting lines from the old tomes he often read in the library, as he
tried to will away the arousal that often arose within him as Lucerys continued to mutter in his
sleep, shifting closer to him, his soft arms encircling Aemond as his thighs pressed against his own,
Aemond’s hardened cock rubbing against the thin satin of his nephew’s sleep dress. It was
arduous, not being able to touch him, not being able to dip his hands under his sleep dress, to
caress the sinful flesh of his husband that lay splayed out aside him.

The rage that swirled in his chest dissipated for the briefest moment, as he could only blink as his
eye rested on Lucerys’s exposed form. His mate was heaving from exertion, his chest falling and
rising, laden with sweat that must have accumulated as they hurried back to their bed chambers, in
their haste to soothe their youngest child. The glistening headpiece that crowned his dark hair
shined in the dim light of the room, coupled with the nakedness of his plush form, his chest, his
teats swelling heavily from childbirth, heavy with milk for their children.

It made his husband look akin to the images of the lecherous nymphs Aegon often fawned over
when they were children, shoving the book into his face, the pages filled with the creatures
lounging in the sea, their hair filled with garlands of seaweed, calling sailors to their demise with
their song, only to have the book smacked away by their enraged mother.

Only Lucerys looked ethereal, lovelier than any image Aemond and ever set his eyes upon. He was
beautiful, and Aemond, in the midst of his anger, could not help but stare.

Before he could gather his bearings, before he could have the chance to ground himself, before the
anger that had been simmering in his chest since the start of the feast, since Cregan Stark had made
an appearance with his runt of a child could resurface, Lucerys pulled their crying son from his
arms, Jacaerion’s loud cries only increasing in volume as he was jostled from his hold, immediately
dying down as Lucerys held him to his chest, encouraging him to nurse from him.

Aemond averted his gaze as he tried to will away the unwanted tightness that his breeches had
begun to swell with, the heat from his face palpable even without touching his cheek as he instead
chose to direct his attentions to a sniffling Aerys, who clung unsuccessfully to Aeresa’s side, his
daughter shoving her brother away with her little hands, unwilling to let him seek comfort aside
her.

“It hurts me too, Aemond. It hurts so to have seen Rickon be so afraid of our son, our son who has
done nothing wrong in his life,” Lucerys’s sniffled aside him as Aemond busied himself with
staring at the light strands of hair that lay atop his children’s head, little tufts that seemed to grow
thicker as the days passed. “It only reminds me of the time when I could not bear to hold him. How
could I have done such a thing?”

The silver strands seemed to waver in his eyes, turning watery as Aemond tried his best to speak,
“We have spoken of this husband. I do not fault you for what occurred any longer,”

“Do I disgust you so much that you cannot bear to even-”, Lucerys stilled, his mate inhaling deeply
before he continued, “Nevermind.”

“Speak your mind, Lucerys. I would not have you dwelling on an issue we have already settled
before,”

The room, wrapped in fragile air, coupled with the swirling of Lucerys’s muddied scent, was then
interrupted by a knock on the heavy door of their bed chamber.

-
“Aemond, please. The child merely wishes to apologise,” Lucerys said softly aside him, smoothing
down the dress he had covered himself in yet again, hiding his titillating form with swaths of fabric
as he readied himself for the cretin and his damned son.

It was of a small relief that Jacaerion seemed to have recovered from his shock in the Great Hall,
aided to slumber by his mother’s milk and the stress from the day’s events as he lay aside his
siblings, his golden scales glinting on his little face as he slept. Instead of shying away from him as
she did to Aerys, Aeresa’s little arm was flung over Jacaerion’s stomach, holding him in a cradle.

“That imbecile’s child will not come near mine,” Aemond hissed, the rage and jealousy from
before flaring in his chest. “Why is it so important that the Stark Lord’s son is to be acquainted
with my children?”

Aemond knew. He knew why it is so important.

Lucerys laughing with Cregan Stark, their dark heads leaning into each other as his mate grinned,
his smile akin to the sun. Blinding.

“Jacaerys loved him. My brother loved Cregan, and now my brother is gone,” Lucerys whispered,
his words so soft Aemond could barely hear them, almost going over his head in the pool of grief
that begun to fill the happiness the past moon had been laden with.

“He loved him… As in, they laid together?” Aemond faltered, trying to hide the shock in his
speech, the glimmer of hope his heart could not help but clutch helplessly onto.

“They did. Tis an uncommon thing, I know, for male alphas to lie with one another, but what my
brother and Cregan shared was ever so real.” he sniffled, clinging onto Aemond’s arm as he
implored the alpha to look upon him. “Jacaerys wanted their children to be close, so I thought
Cregan’s son meeting ours would soothe his soul somehow, wherever he may be.”

Aemond remembered walking in the royal gardens with his mother, her hand in his as he spoke
excitedly about the philosophy book he had been perusing as of late. His mother always took to
listening to him, unlike Aegon and Helaena, his siblings easily distracted from their studies by
drink and bugs. His excited chattering stopped when his mother’s steps stilled, her gaze turning
solemn as he regarded Laenor and the male companion that walked by his side. “How unbecoming
of an alpha that man is, traipsing so brazenly around court with others of his kind. Decency seems
to mean nothing to these people.” his mother continued to mutter under her breath.
“Laenor’s knot would probably only swell for another alpha male. The man probably likes to be
plugged like a bitch in heat during his rut as well,” Aegon had exclaimed crudely, “Our dear
nephew Jacaerys might be the same, given his father’s proclivities,” Aemond had scoffed in
disbelief at his brother’s outlandish claims, polishing his sword as he readied himself for the
impending arrival of his nephews and sister from Dragonstone.

Cregan Stark’s preferences meant nothing to him.

Perhaps in the past he would have shunned the man, would have shamed him as his mother did. It
was wrong, unnatural after all, for male alphas to lie with one another, a sin in the eyes of the
Seven.

However, it was only the knot in his chest unfurling, a knot that had been wound ever so tight,
gripping and squeezing his heart the moment he saw the Stark Lord with Lucerys.

There was a wetness in Aemond’s eye, but it did not feel like sadness. It felt like relief .

It seared his bones, replacing the fear and jealousy his darkened self had been singed with, the
release of something he had been holding in for the longest time.

Lucerys peered up at him, his dark lashes quivering as he regarded his husband, as if afraid
Aemond would fly into a rage at any moment, would barrage him with insults toward his late
brother, toward the choice of name for Jacaerion.

The heavy doors of the room were then opened, announcing the arrival of their guests.

“Please be nice, Aemond,” Lucerys murmured, his soft hand in Aemond’s own, as he traced his
palm languidly, as if to appease him, to calm him.

“I am sorry, Your Graces. It was unbecoming, treasonous even, of me to behave in such a way
toward the Prince,” the plain dark-haired child stuttered out, clutching a wooden toy in his hands,
“I seek to beg for your forgiveness, as well as for the young Prince’s,”
It was painfully obvious that Lord Stark had forced his unwilling son into the room, had taught
him to say his words of apology. However, the words seemed to appease his mate, who pulled
Aemond aside, giving way for the child to approach their son.

It went beyond his very instincts to allow the Stark child, the child who looked so alike his father
Aemond had burned with envy for near his children again, especially after having scared the wits
out of Jacaerion just moments before.

But Lucerys’s explanation from before had quelled his rage. The fiery hatred in his heart was
simmering now instead, bubbling, as he watched intently as the Stark child made his way slowly
toward Jacaerion’s cradle. Cregan Stark stood at the front of the room, the Kingsguard shifting
nervously aside the broad man, bowing solemnly to them before he barked at his quivering son to
present his gift.

Lucerys’s nails dug deep into his palms, his mate twitching nervously aside him as the Stark child
hovered over their son’s cradle,

“I am sorry, baby Jace,” The child said, shuddering as his eyes roved over Jacaerion’s scales,
barely concealed fear obvious in his eyes. “Father says it was wrong for me to behave in such a
way. I have brought you my most treasured toy.”

It was for naught. Lucerys’s wishful hopes were for naught.

Even looking at Jacaerion struck the Stark child with such abject fear, it had Aemond’s heart
twisting in sadness at the very sight.

The child’s hand trembled as he reluctantly placed the figurine of wood he held in his hands into
Jacaerion’s cot, their sleeping son jostling awake at the sudden movement, his eyes blinking open
as he peered curiously at the dumbfounded Stark child.

Aemond almost leapt forward then, wanting to push the child away from his own, not wanting
Jacaerion to go through the same ordeal he had before. But Lucerys’s soft hand in his served as a
balm to the heat of anger that had started to fester within him as he watched his son with bated
breath.

“He has pretty eyes,” Rickon whispered, his mouth curling into a small smile as Jacaerion surged
forward to wrap his little hand around his fingers, wriggling in his cradle as he started to coo
 loudly.

When Aemond tried to pry the wooden wolf figurine away from Jacaerion that night, his son had
smacked his hand away, his tiny hands holding onto the wolf like a lifeline.

Aemond could not help the vague feeling of dread that clawed at his chest as he blew out the
candle he had lit, setting down the dragonglass as he settled next to a sleeping Lucerys’s side,
pulling his mate close to his chest, uncaring of how it would seem when the sun rose.

Chapter End Notes

*crawls out again from a slightly shorter hibernation*

As always, thank you so much for your continued support❤️

( ️_ ️)❓ (◕_ ️)

Do leave a comment if you liked it, they are so fun to read

 thank you
Chapter Notes

See the end of the chapter for notes

Soundtrack:

I Wish You Love - Laufey

Best Interest - Tyler, The Creator

There You Are - Zayn

Gray So Gray - Epik High

Aemond Rides Vhagar - Ramin Djawadi

To everyone who has been following this story for the past 10 months: Oh my goodness, it really
has been a while. Sorry for the prolonged absence. Real life was getting busy for me. Not in a bad
way, it’s been fun but busy. I appreciate all the friends who checked up on me when I was mia for
such a long time. I’m still well, just not active anymore.

I have met many lovely people here, and the comments have always been so encouraging. To be
honest, my brainrot for this pairing has died over the past few months. It is the normal, inevitable
state for every ship, in my opinion. The added things that happened within the fandom also didn’t
really help.

It comes in waves, and the lucemond brainrot hasn’t hit me for a few months now. I did try writing
a little yesterday, but nothing was flowing. It does suck because Aemond and Lucerys are still both
so dear to me. Canon and in fic. My babies!

“Paint Me In Your Colours” has been a rollercoaster to write, and I’m so glad you guys came along
with me for it. It’s still so surreal that people came up with the pmiyc acronym for it… I’m so
grateful, thank you.

I will be privating pmiyc for the foreseeable future until and if I ever start writing for lucemond
again. Leaving my incomplete work up that has a high chance of never being finished doesn’t
make sense to me personally. :’)

I was going to leave silently, but I think the lovely people who have been supporting this little fic
do deserve at least an explanation and a proper goodbye.
 Thank you to anyone who has ever left a kudos, who has ever commented on this story at any
point. Those who have been reading silently all this while too, you are very much appreciated.
Reading your comments always made my day. Even when things were getting a little dark in the
story (especially after Jacaerion was born), thank you for still sticking through and having faith in
me. I wish you guys all the best, truly.

This was the first fandom I have ever written for, and it’s still so surreal to me. To think the ship
that finally spurred me on to start writing after years of lurking on AO3 would be an uncle-nephew
ship… the me of a year ago would have never believed it.

Fleshing out these two characters who I love in different ways has been a joy, and such a great
experience.

To me, fisherman Lucerys is canon. He saved Aemond after Gods Eye and they are living in their
little hut. They don’t have much, but they are content. Free of war, free of strife. Bound in life,
bound in death.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you. <3

Chapter End Notes

A last end note from me (I will miss making these so much)

( ️ω ️) ❤️(◕ω ️)

Please drop by the archive and comment to let the author know if you enjoyed their work!