Chapter Text
Prologue
16 years ago…
The night was dark, heavy clouds promising rain were rolling over the night sky, covering the moon and stars and yet the Red Keep shone brightly upon the cliff overlooking the waves of Blackwater Bay.
No one slept that night, nobles, guards, even the servants were awake, they all impatiently waited for any news from the Queen’s birthing chamber.
Their King’s young wife, Lady Alicent Hightower, was about to birth their first child.
Many celebrated, clinking their glasses together, discussing what gender the child will be, what will they name it and what will happen with Princess Rhaenyra, the King’s only child and heir if the babe is born a boy.
There were those who worried, those who remembered the fate of their previous Queen, how she toiled on the birthing bed almost every year and yet failed to produce a male heir to the crown over and over and over again until her exhausted body could not take it no more and she departed from this world.
Others gossiped, afterall it was only seven moons since their King took the Queen as his wife.
“The babe is a moon early,” one whispered with a sneer.
“A sign of favour from the gods,” another replied with a mocking smile hidden behind a hastily raised hand.
“The Princess must be furious, she hasn’t been seen in the capital for many moons! Surely she will hate the new babe as she hates the Queen.”
And then a wailing of a child cut through the night and after a while another.
“Alicent, wake up my dear.” A cool palm was laid upon her sweaty forehead, prompting her to open her eyes. She could not focus at first, too overwhelmed by the waves of pain coursing through her body.
She fought with the pain for control because she recognized that voice, it was her lord husband, her King. She had to obey.
Eventually she managed to focus on his face as he leaned over her. He looked tired and yet his face was alight with joy she rarely saw in him.
She must have done good then.
“T-the babe-'' she managed to stutter. Where is her child? All she could remember was that excruciating pain in her very core that mounted for hours finally reaching its peak, her own cries, desperate shouts for her mother, her father, her husband, anyone that could help her, then a sudden relief and a maester pressing a vial to her lips and then- then nothing.
Where is her babe? Is it healthy? Is it a boy?
“Two babes, my dearest, we were blessed with two.”
Alicent frowned. Two? She could not remember pushing out two, but if her husband says so….
The King stood then, slowly walking towards a wooden bassinet just a few steps from the bed, where the Grand Maester Runciter awaited.
She watched as her husband pointed into the crib and the maester pulled out a child, carefully sliding it into the King’s awaiting arms.
A moment later Viserys was once again seated next to her, laying the child upon her chest.
“Our younger, a boy, my Queen. I’ve decided to name him Aemond.”
“Aemond,” she whispered reverently, raising her hand to gently stroke over the feathery wisps of white hair covering his head. The babe was so small, his little red face scrunched in displeasure and still covered by tiny specks of blood and yet he was the most beautiful sight the young Queen has ever seen.
Alicent Hightower loved many things, her family, her gods, her husband, but nothing could compare the the love she felt when she held her little Aemond for the very first time.
He was hers, everything she had to sacrifice, everything he had to endure was worth that moment, was worth him .
She almost cried out when her husband’s hands reached for the babe, gently prying it from her, but his words stopped her. “Shh, Alicent, I must take him so you can meet our eldest, our Aegon.” A pang of sorrow rang through her then, so he named both of them. She had hoped, even though she knew it for the foolishness it was, that she would be allowed to have a say in naming her child. But alas, her children were Targaryens, princes of the Realm. Future kings….
The second babe that was laid upon her chest was different, he had the same flock of white hair, but he looked bigger, almost twice as big as the previous one and less- less fragile.
Alicent felt herself frown, she thought as twins they would be the same, she could not stop herself from voicing the thought out loud. “T-they are different.”
Grand Maester Runciter stepped forward. “That happens, Your Grace.” There was something tight in his tone, but she could not discern what it was other than that it did not reassure her.
“He is right,” Viserys leaned over her, pulling her attention back to him. “Not all twins are the same, my Queen, just think of the Velaryons. We should be thanking the gods for that, this way we will never mistake one for another.”
His eyes were boring into her, as if trying to convince her to listen to him. I suppose he is right, she thought to herself before looking back to the babe, to Aegon.
The boy was awake, looking at her.
His eyes were violet, with the thinnest ring of pale blue circling the pupil.
They were pretty eyes, very pretty and yet- the love, that bright and allconsuming feeling of love she felt when Viserys handed her Aemond, was not coming. She stared at the child and waited for it to finally come for a long moment and yet….
Then his little face scrunched, cheeks growing red and he released the most ear-shattering cry she ever heard, making her flinch.
And soon enough, his brother joined him.
“True little dragons.” Viserys whispered proudly as an army of wetnurses barged into the room, taking the boys away.
Chapter 1
Present day...
“I have a wonderful surprise for you.” The King, for once actually present at their family dinner, announces.
Everybody startles, exchanging wary glances at this more than strange behaviour of his. The King barely pays them any attention outside of their courtly duties, joining them for dinner only once a week and only on Sol’s Day when it is customary to gather in the Great Hall together with all the nobles hosted at the Keep. And even then he barely looks at them.
Therefore it is highly unusual to see him here, in the Small dining room reserved solely for the royal family.
“What is it, my love?” Mother asks politely, giving him a smile.
“My dear Rhaenyra wrote to us!” Wrote to you , Aegon scoffs silently. Their cunt of a sister surely did not address her missive to them. There is no love lost between her and the rest of his family. “She says little Baelon is finally ready to take the journey to King’s Landing, they should be here in a few days, isn’t it wonderful?”
Wonderful is the last word on Aegon’s mind and judging from the pale, tense faces of his mother and siblings, they feel exactly the same.
The King, utterly oblivious to the effect his words had, happily continues talking, saying what a shame it is that there is no time to organise a tourney to celebrate such a wonderful occasion.
Aegon takes a deep sip from his cup to stop himself from pointing out that the King never proposed to host a tourney when his children were born and Jaehaerys and Jaehaera were his first trueborn grandchildren.
He would like a tourney, they are fun and he knows Aemond would like one too.
His younger twin may be only six and ten, but he was recently knighted and therefore wasn’t able to compete in any tournaments yet. Aemond is skilled, proud and competitive, Aegon knows he would love to try his hand against the finest knights of the Kingdom.
Father keeps talking, reminiscing of past tourneys, contemplating which famous knights would he invite. Aegon is barely listening, eyes focused on his cup and trying very hard not to show his annoyance to his royal father. That is until the King utters those fateful words. “But of course we all know who would win. Not even the famous Knight of Roses would stand a chance against my brother. Daemon would bring Ser Leon to his knees. Remember the way he unhorsed your brother, my dear?” He pats his wife’s hands, not noticing, or perhaps ignoring the way she paled, her mouth pressed into a tight line.
The words slip from his mouth before he even realises. “Oh, I would love to see that. Tyrell would throw him on his arse, that old cunt deserves to learn some humility.”
A second of shocked silence follows before there is a loud slap and searing pain blooms across Aegon’s lips.
His hand flies instinctively up and comes away covered in blood. Father must have cut me with his rings… the idea of his old, frail father slapping him seems so unbelievable that it takes Aegon a moment to realise that the King is not done with him yet.
He stood up and now is leaning over his chair, screaming from the top of his lungs that Aegon is an ungrateful spoiled brat that doesn’t know his place.
The King is so enraged he almost shakes, throwing away even Mother’s hand when she tries to calm him down, before storming away, muttering darkly under his breath.
Mother turns to him then, harsh disappointment shining from her eyes, not softened even by the blood now trickling from between Aegon’s fingers. “You just had to open your mouth and ruin everything, didn’t you? Why can’t you ever just be quiet?!” She turns, following Father without a single look back, not seeing the tears gathering in Aegon’s eyes.
Helaena and Aemond are the only two left to deal with the aftermath.
They lead him back to his chambers, mercifully not commenting on his tears or less than steady gait.
Aegon barely realises where they are leading him, trusting them enough not to question anything they do, his mind too muddled to care anyway.
And it’s not even the wine, he did not drink that much, just enough to make the presence of his dearest father bearable.
The old cunt suddenly appeared when they started to eat and Aegon, without even thinking about it, waved to the servant to fill his cup, drowning it in one go before asking for another.
Still, it’s not the wine that makes his head spin.
Father hit him, hit him strong enough that his ring split both his bottom and upper lip painfully.
Aegon was used to being slapped, gods know that mother and grandfather never hesitate to smack him when they think he is not behaving appropriately enough, but Viserys never did.
Well, perhaps he simply did not have the chance.
Father never spent much time with them, but since the night at Driftmark when Aemond accused him of being the one to spread rumours of Rhaenyra’s bastard children, Aegon saw Father only once a week and even then he barely spared him a glance.
Aegon made his peace with it, not really , but learned to live with it, he had his siblings, his children and his dragon, he did not need a father. But Viserys appearing at dinner today threw him off, for a moment he felt like they were a normal family, basking in the presence of a parent who seemed to care .
He let his guard down, he let his mouth run freely and he ruined everything.
He is angry at himself and what is worse, he knows Aemond and Helaena are angry as well.
He can see it from the way Aemond’s jaw clenches, from Helaena’s tightly pursed lips.
And yet they still take care of him, sitting him on the bed carefully, calling for a maester when they see the cut on his mouth.
The maester says the wound is not deep, he doesn’t sew it shut. He simply gives him some healing ointment and advises to let it heal on its own, to not talk, to try to move his lips as little as possible, to eat only mashed foods.
Aegon only glowers at him, grabbing the jar of ointment and twirling it in his hand, waiting for the robed man to finally fuck off and with a quiet muttering on how sleep helps with healing, the maester finally does.
He waits for his siblings to come sit with him, to perhaps take the jar from his hand and help him with applying the ointment, but they seem content to talk among themselves, discussing Father’s strange behaviour and the upcoming visit.
Helaena seems apprehensive, Aemond excited about showing the Strong bastards that he is no longer someone to be trifled with. His little brother is an exceptional warrior, prodigy with a sword and he contemplates loudly how he needs to increase his training to ensure he will not embarrass himself in front of their sister’s family.
Aegon just shakes his head, annoyed. Aemond already trains for hours each day on top of riding with Vhagar and attending his studies. If he wants to train even more he won’t have any time left for anything else, no time for him .
Aegon grumbles to himself, moving to the mirror in the corner to apply the foul smelling salve.
He sits down, frowning into the mirror. The bleeding stopped, but bruising started to spread, purple mottled with red and his lips, the lips he always thought were too big, too effeminate, grew even more. He prods at them a little before promptly pulling his fingers away, pained hiss escaping him.
“You deserve that.”
Aegon spins, glowering at his smirking brother, idly noting that Helaena is gone. He did not even hear her leave.
Aemond comes closer, pulling the little jar out of his hand and leaning against the table. “Stop glaring, you know I did not mean you deserved to be hit, you just said what we all thought. I meant you deserve the sting because you should know better than to touch a wound with such dirty hands if you want to avoid infection.”
Aegon snorts, but even he can admit his hands are not the cleanest. He was with Sunfyre before the dinner and was running late and did not have time to clean properly, there is still some dirt beneath his nails from the little island he and his dragon like to explore when they have the chance.
Aemond’s hands are pristine as always, his perfect little brother would never show up to dinner looking anything but flawless.
Still, he cleans his hands again before opening the jar and starting to slowly apply the salve to Aegon’s abused mouth.
He is careful, his fingertips barely brushing his brother’s lips, but Aegon still hisses in pain from time to time.
He at least manages not to flinch, too hard , but Aemond still lets out little admonishing noises until his annoyance prevails and he grabs his brother’s chin firmly.
The ointment eventually helps with the pain, cooling the burning and soon Aegon feels only numbness.
His attention shifts then, without the distraction of the pain he cannot help but notice the heat of Aemond’s body pressing against his legs, he cannot unsee the way his linen camisole opens deeply, revealing the swaying pedant of the seven-pointed star hanging from his neck temptingly.
Desire heats up his belly, bidding him to touch, to taste that pearlescent skin, to let himself be consumed by his brother’s fire, to forget Father’s rage and Mother’s disappointment.
Aegon, never one for restraint, doesn’t even try to fight it.
Eyes never leaving Aemond’s adorably focused face, his hand moves slowly forward down his own leg until there is barely an inch between his fingers and Aemond’s thigh and then darts forward to pull his brother closer.
Aemond smacks his hand away, not even looking away from Aegon’s mouth. “No.”
Aegon pouts, he is hurt, he should be getting what he wants.
Aemond must see the thought reflected in his eyes because he throws him a fiendish grin, obviously not feeling even a little bit sorry for his poor hurt brother.
“Don’t pout, you idiot, you will tear it anew. The old cunt really did a number on you.”
Aegon, stubborn as always, pouts even more.
Aemond gives him an exasperated eyeroll before sighing loudly and pulling him up to stand between his spread legs.
Aegon presses against him eagerly, wrapping his arms around his waist and hiding his face in the crook of Aemond’s neck, enjoying the way Aemond slowly rubs at the small of his back.
Aemond nuzzles his temple while his hand slowly travels to the front, grabbing the string of his pants, making him whine when he doesn't pull at them.
“Mmmm, does my spoiled King wish to be pleased tonight?” his brother murmurs, his warm breath wafting against his cheek.
Aegon nods eagerly, grabbing Aemond’s silky hair and pushing his face against his own neck. Aemond obliges, covering it in small featherlight kisses, teasing him with small nips, setting his body aflame.
Aegon wants. He wants Aemond to grab him, to spin them around and bend him over the table, to press him against the wall, the bed, the window. It doesn’t matter where or how, he just wants his brother.
If someone told him just two years ago that he and Aemond will become lovers, that he will give up his many dalliances and nights in the city just so he can have him, he would laugh, proclaim them mad and then feed them to Sunfyre.
His younger twin has always been a twat, the perfect, dutiful, favourite son of their mother, always looking down on him, never hesitating to show his disdain for his elder brother.
That is until one fateful night when Aemond came to drag him home from the Street of Silk.
Aegon didn’t want to go, he was enjoying himself.
The two whores he bought for the night at first ignored Aemond’s presence in the room, they kept their ministrations, kissing and caressing Aegon’s body pleasantly while the brothers’ eyes locked in a silent stare down.
But then the always shallow well of Aemond’s patience snapped, he growled, unsheathing his sword and they scurried away like frightened rabbits, leaving the brothers alone.
Aegon, upset at being denied the pleasure he came there to seek and more than a little bit drunk, decided to ignore him and took the matters into his own hand, literally.
Aemond kept staring at him, but Aegon knew his brother too well to miss the sudden insecurity shining from his eye, the pink spreading on his cheeks or the way he shifted from foot to foot nervously.
Gleefully deciding to push him a little bit more, he slumped against the silken pillows behind him, spreading his legs to give their saintly little Aemond a proper eyeful.
Aemond’s eye flew down to his cock and then quickly away.
“Stop it!” Aemond commanded, voice strained.
“No.” Aegon’s answer was barely a sigh, content and breathless.
“I said stop it!”
“Why would I?”
“It is inappropriate!”
Aegon just laughed, enjoying the way his little show strained his brother’s composure. He expected Aemond to storm away, to run back to the castle and cry to their mother about Aegon’s vile ways, while he would remain and call back his whores.
What he certainly did not expect was Aemond storming toward him, grabbing his wrist and pulling him from the bed in one lightning fast move.
He shoved him against the wall making his back twinge painfully, placing one arm across Aegon’s chest so he could not move away.
Aegon expected a fist to his face, his eyes were already scrunched, but his brother surprised him once again.
“Is this what you want, brother?” Aemond whispered heatedly, his right hand closing around his brother’s hard cock.
Aegon almost swallowed his own tongue. It was not what he intended, not what he wanted, but…
Aemond’s hand squeezed him a little bit harder, the calluses covering his hand from wielding his sword day after day scratching just so.
Aegon snapped his hips, thrusting into his brother’s hand.
“You are disgusting.” Aemond scoffed, but he did not let go.
And Aegon did not stop.
They continued like that until Aegon spilled all over his brother’s hand.
“Happy now?” Aemond growled, already pulling away.
But whatever madness came over the elder prince on that night was not entirely sated yet.
With a succinct “no” Aegon walked his brother backwards, pushing him into the bed.
Aemond fought it at first, but once his brother’s hand found its way into his pants he ceased his struggling.
Aegon sucked him off. He did not really like to do it, always preferring to be on the receiving end, but his brother’s wide-eyed stare and cut-off moans were enough motivation to keep going.
Aemond was a virgin, that much was clear from how quickly he spilled, not even having enough sense to warn Aegon before warm cum flooded his mouth, almost choking him.
Aegon managed not to choke too loudly, swallowed and then crawled up to prop himself over his brother’s flushed face. “Now I am happy,” he drawled, a satisfied smile stretching his lips.
He expected to be shoved away, but it seemed that Aemond was intent on surprising him that night.
Instead of a push, Aemond gave him a small smile, almost a shy one and wrapped his arms around Aegon’s waist, pulling him to lay on top of his chest.
Aegon went willingly and that’s how it started.
The first few weeks after were awkward, Aemond kept avoiding him and Aegon, frustrated, ran back to the city.
Aemond appeared in the brothel just a few hours later, a scowl on his face and hand on the pommel of the sword. This time it was Aegon who sent the whores away and before he could say even a word, Aemond was upon him.
The scenario repeated a few more times until eventually Aegon did not even bother to buy himself company, only rented a room and waited for his younger brother to appear.
Aemond always did.
Then Aegon decided it was really stupid, and perhaps even dangerous, to keep meeting like that and showed Aemond the secret tunnel that allowed them to pass from one chamber to another unnoticed.
That’s when Aegon stopped visiting the Street of Silk altogether. Aegon was always lazy, why would he bother sneaking out of the castle when he could get what he needed by simply walking through one dusty hallway and be in Aemond’s room?
It wasn’t because Aemond, despite being a virgin when they started, could satisfy him better than the most expensive of whores. Of course not.
There was only one sore point between them.
Helaena, his dearest sister-wife.
They argued ceaselessly whether to tell her or not. Aemond felt guilty and wanted to confess, while Aegon was resolutely against it. He honestly did not think Helaena would care that much, she never begrudged him his whoring, he just thought the less people would know, the better.
Their dilemma was solved one day when they let themselves get carried away and slipped into the little alcove halfway between Aemond’s bedroom and the dinning room.
Just when Aegon was about to drop to his knees, the curtain hiding them got pulled away, revealing his dearest lady wife.
Helaena slipped in, quickly pulling the curtain shut again, before treating them with her most unimpressed look.
“Are you angry?” Aemond asked carefully.
Helaena simply rolled her eyes in annoyance “You think I did not know? You are not as subtle as you think.” She eyed the way they leaned against each other, Aemond’s arm still around his waist, Aegon’s hand hooked into the strings of his pants.
They blushed, quickly separating.
But she wasn’t mad, that much was clear when she promised to keep their secret in exchange for some overly expensive and rare insects from Essos.
Aegon was honestly a little bit offended. Not that he wanted her to be mad, but a bug? That’s all she wanted in exchange for him?
But Aemond’s concerns were finally put to rest, so he eventually let it go.
A sharp nip to his shoulder rips him from the fond memories of their past dalliances and brings him back into the present. Aemond keeps mouthing on his neck, making shivers run up and down his spine and Aegon, intent on repaying the courtesy, presses his mouth to his brother’s neck only to yelp in pain and then hiss when he feels his lips tearing anew.
Aemond immediately pushes him back, hands leaving his body to once again grab his chin. “We should stop.” He says, studying his lips carefully.
Aegon only grunts, unable to say the resolute “Fuck no!” he wants to.
But judging from Aemond’s grin he understood even without words. Despite clearly knowing what his elder brother wants, the younger one starts to push him away.
But Aegon is nothing if not stubborn, he grabs his brother’s shoulders pressing him down with all his strength.
The big lug doesn’t even twitch, only his grin gets sharper. Aemond trails one long finger from his chin, down his neck and chest and hooks it into his waistband. “Mmmm, that’s what you want? You want me to suck your cock?”
Aegon nods emphatically, but it seems Aemond feels no sympathy for him. He only laughs again before saying “You think I did not see you drown that wine? You know the rules, brother dearest. Sucking is for good behaviour only.”
Aegon’s arms fly up in frustration, his face both defiant and demanding. So Aemond is mad after all. He wasn’t drunk, he just took a little edge off.
He hates that he cannot tell him to climb on that high horse of his and just fuck off, Aemond knows how much Father’s presence disturbed him, how much he hates him and yet he dares to begrudge him two cups of wine with dinner?
Angry now, Aegon storms away from him, throwing himself into the bed, back stubbornly to his brother, silently wishing that Aemond would take mercy on him.
His hope rises when he hears quiet footsteps coming near and then feels long fingers run through his hair, perhaps they can still salvage this horrible evening, but his brother’s next words squash even his last hope. “You know I could get used to you not speaking, it’s certainly easier for me.”
Aegon, enraged, grabs the pillow next to him, flinging it in the direction of his twat of a brother.
The pillow falls on the ground uselessly, not even anywhere near Aemond who is already almost by the door, quietly laughing.
And what is worse the prick doesn’t even look back before opening the door and leaving him alone to nurse his bruised ego and lips.