Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Aemond does not give himself much time to mourn.

He’s sad, of course, that his husband has died. Even if the man was never much of a husband to Aemond, he was someone dear to him all the same. Aemond has lived almost half of his life under Harwin’s protection, and the man did protect him, if nothing else. He never let anyone speak poorly of Aemond, never suffered any insult or malice towards his young husband. He let Aemond train with his sword and fly Vhagar whenever his heart desired. Harwin was undoubtedly good to him but he was also more guardian than spouse.

The omega doesn’t hate him for that anymore, not like he used to. When he first married Harwin at the tender age of three-and-ten, he’d been terrified of the idea of the alpha becoming his husband. Ser Breakbones Strong was renowned throughout all of Westeros as a man possessing great strength and savagery, and Aemond had shuddered at the idea of being bedded by him. His mother had told him that the marital act would be painful the first time and that it would get easier to endure, but the omega had known that such wouldn’t be the case being married to the Riverlands knight.

Aemond was so little and Harwin was so big; there was no way it wouldn’t hurt every time the man bedded him.

And yet, when the time came for the bedding, when Aemond had been stripped bare by the wedding guests and deposited in Harwin’s chambers, it never happened. Instead, Harwin took one look at him where he stood before his soon-to-be mate, naked and shivering, and had scoured the room to find Aemond some clothes to sleep in before telling him in no uncertain terms that they would not be consummating their marriage that night.

The relief he had felt in that moment had been so overwhelming, he’d been dizzy with it. Harwin had looked at him with kindness, understanding, and no small amount of pity. They had shared the bed that night, with Harwin keeping firmly to his side, and when Aemond woke in the morning, they never shared a bed again.

A scandalous thing if their marriage had been anything other than a sham. Aemond knows that none of this would have happened if Rhaenyra was still alive. His half-sister, who he only had passing memories of. It was she who Harwin loved, dearly and fiercely enough that he had endured the rumours and humiliation of him being the sire of Rhaenyra’s whelps.

Jace, Luke, and Joffrey. His first two nephews he had enough memories of to last him a lifetime. All the times they ridiculed him with Aegon and made him feel lesser simply because he didn’t have a dragon. The embarrassment he suffered under their hands had been what drove him to claiming Vhagar during his aunt’s funeral. He arrived on Driftmark dragonless and left with the greatest dragon of them all.

And only one eye.

Aemond’s not sure what might have happened if Rhaenyra had left Driftmark alive. How much his life would have differed from the one he led now. He supposes it doesn’t matter. Rhaenyra didn’t leave Driftmark alive, having suffered a bad fall while she was there that shattered her spine. Infection had been quick to set in and there was little to be done after that. She died within a matter of days.

It was an accident, a simple tragedy, but Aemond knew there were those who believed his mother responsible. He might have thought the same, had he not seen first hand how utterly devastated she was from the loss. Aemond would wager she would not be half as aggrieved when his father eventually succumbs to his illness.

That is if grief and guilt doesn’t take him first. The death of his eldest child - and his only child, as far as Aemond was concerned - had weighed heavily upon the king. Tongues had wagged about Rhaenyra and the legitimacy of her children, in a way they had never done while she was alive, but instead of quelling the rumours, Viserys publicly acknowledged the truth of them. Aemond’s nephews were bastards, born of Rhaenyra and Harwin, but was such enough to make Viserys put aside Rhaenyra’s claim once and for all?

Of course not. Of course Viserys legitimised all three of Rhaenyra’s whelps. Of course the only thing he felt guilty about was pressuring his daughter into a marriage she didn’t want and not for ignoring his wife every time she insisted Rhaenyra’s children were bastards. Of course Aemond never got an apology for his eye being cut out simply because he called his nephews what they were.

Not even death and infamy could knock over the pedestal Viserys placed his eldest on.

No, instead of justice at last being served, Viserys named Jacaerys his heir and betrothed him to Baela Targaryen, while naming Rhaena the heir to Driftmark. And it was agreed that Jace and Joffrey would be fostered in King’s Landing while Lucerys went to Harrenhal, as Harwin’s heir.

Harwin, who had become lord of Harrenhal at the time of Rhaenyra’s death, due to his father suffering a heart attack before they could depart from King’s Landing after his resignation as Hand. Not that the man seemed to appreciate his inheritance, especially once news of the Crown Princess’s death came to him. It’s said that the alpha had gone into a blind rage when he was told, laying waste to his room with his bare fists before collapsing into a broken heap on the floor.

If Aemond had any doubts about the nature of Strong’s relationship with his half-sister, they were long gone after that. Anyone with half a brain would know the man was in love with Rhaenyra. Which begs the question of why on earth Viserys decided to make him marry her little brother.

Well, Aemond supposes something had to be done with him and his siblings once they all presented as omegas. They were useless to Viserys after that, with the realm preferring a bastard grandson who was an alpha rather than a trueborn omega inheriting. The king married Aegon off to Qoren Martell, to bring Dorne into the realm, and Helaena was wed to Cregan Stark, while Daeron was betrothed to Joffrey, both of whom had only been babies at the time.

And Aemond married Harwin. The omega could only speculate why. Perhaps Viserys foresaw what a problem husband he’d be, with his un-omegan attitude, and thought that a strong hand would be required to keep him in line.

If that was the case, Viserys failed miserably. Harwin hadn’t cared what he did. He’d allowed him almost complete free rein in Harrenhal and afforded him every courtesy as Lord Consort. Every courtesy except an heir.

No, Harwin already had his heir in Lucerys, who Aemond has watched with the single eye he left him grow from a snivelling boy to a gawky teen and eventually into a young man. At twenty years old, Lucerys Strong was many a young maiden’s dream for their future alpha, the very image of his true father with his dark curls that girls swoon over and that muscly form. Not to mention that Luke would now be Lord of Harrenhal due to Harwin’s untimely demise from a hunting accident.

He’d get a lofty lordship, titles, land, duties, responsibilities… And Aemond would get nothing, all because his husband refused to bed him. In all twelve years of their marriage, Harwin never once sought him out, never once deigned to perform his marital duties. Aemond understands why his husband didn’t bed him in those first few years of marriage - is grateful for it, even - but why not when he matured? Why not when he grew enough to be able to withstand the toll of bearing children?

But he knows the answer to that; Aemond was not and could never be Rhaenyra. It was she who Harwin loved and she alone he would be faithful to. Aemond was simply a glorified ward whose fostering had come to an end. He’d be sent back home sooner or later.

Unless his scheme went according to plan.

Aemond gives himself a final once over in the mirror. The satin omegan robe he’d put on is a dark mossy green which hugs his body and dips low to show off his collarbone. It’s certainly the most risqué thing he has in his wardrobe, and that’s precisely the point.

Lucerys had been kept busy in the months after his father’s passing, with letters to send and arrangements to be made. The funeral, held two weeks ago, had clearly been an ordeal for him, which the omega noticed when his nephew stood before his father’s tomb with dark circles on his face and red eyes.

He did not cry, though. Tears were something people like them had to shed in private. How lonely his stepson must be, with no mother or father anymore, and his brothers having already left to return to King’s Landing just days ago. He had no shoulder to cry on, no kind words to seek comfort from.

No whores whose bodies gave him respite.

No, all Luke had now was his his account books and his chambers… And a half-uncle who needed his nephew to fuck him. For Aemond had no intention of being sent back to the Red Keep like some unwanted dog to be married off to the nearest lord with low expectations. He had come to enjoy the freedom he had in Harrenhal and he was in no rush to relinquish it, which means he needs to find a reason for him to stay here.

Like a baby.

If Aemond were pregnant with Harwin’s child, he’d have no choice but to stay in the Riverlands with his stepson, since his child would be a Strong and would have to be raised in his or her father’s ancestral home. A nice, convenient way for him to steer clear of King’s Landing.

Only problem is that the omega doesn’t have a child… Yet. But he knows of a way to get one, one that is guaranteed to look like his late husband. After all, it was known far and wide what a strong resemblance Rhaenyra’s bastards bore to their true father.

Aemond will play the part of the harlot and Lucerys will spill his seed inside him and give him a baby that he will claim is Harwin’s child. A trueborn heir for Harrenhal at long lost. The scheme is unorthodox, immoral, and something his mother would no doubt condemn him for if she knew of it, but what Alicent doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

Aemond’s hands twitch, the desire to brush his hair one final time thrumming through his veins, but he manages to resist. He wasn’t going to get any better looking than this. It would have do.

The corridors of Harrenhal pass him by in a blur as he all but marches to his late husband’s - and now Luke’s - chambers. The guards standing sentry by the walls greet him as he passes, eyes bulging out of their heads as they take in his attire. He responds with a serene smile and doesn’t slow his pace one bit, not until he’s standing before the vast oak doors of the lord’s apartments with two guards staring at him like he’s grown a second head.

“I wish to speak with my nephew,” he tells them. It’s a statement that comes out sounding more like a command, and one that is promptly listened to by one of the guards. He jumps to attention and goes about asking the Lord of Harrenhal if he wishes to permit visitors at this time. The other one continues to ogle him.

Aemond stares him down imperiously. Let him come to his own conclusion about this visit. It’s not as though anyone would believe the pious Queen’s pious son was capable of such a thing as what he was actually doing here.

“Let him in,” a deep voice sounds inside the room and the guard promptly stands back out to open the door for Aemond.

Lucerys is sitting at his desk when Aemond comes inside. The candles have been lit to provide the room with ample light for him to read his missives with, and the fire is small but still going strong in the hearth. His stepson’s eyes dart from the parchment he holds in his hand to Aemond for a brief moment before he goes back to reading.

Then he stops. Then he looks back at the omega. Then he stares.

“Good evening, Lucerys.”

“Evening,” the alpha replies just a beat too late. His eyes are stuck on Aemond’s robe and he can see how dark the irises have become from the sight.

It gives him a heady thrill of satisfaction.

“Uncle, wh-what are you wearing?” Luke stutters, as he snaps his gaze from Aemond’s body and firmly keeps it on his face.

The omega pretends to look confused. “My bed clothes?” He makes it sound like a question, then purposefully shrugs. It causes the thin material to slip down his left shoulder, just a little. “Forgive me. I know it’s not entirely appropriate but I had an urgent matter I wished to discuss with you and I didn’t want to wait until morning.”

Lucerys is silent for several long moments, eyes trained on the slip of skin that had been revealed.

“An urgent matter?”

Aemond hums as he moves further into the room, coming to a stop before the desk.

“I am curious, my Lord, about why you haven’t taken your due yet,” Aemond says casually, as though this were a conversation they were having in his late husband’s solar and not Luke’s own chambers. The solar that now belongs to Lucerys.

The Lord of Harrenhal stares at him. “My due?” He questions, like he’s some green boy who doesn’t know how the world works. Under any other circumstances, Aemond might find it cute.

He hums, strategically trailing one hand over the chair opposite Luke’s own, as he moves around the desk. Lucerys watches him like a hawk. “Your due,” he echoes loftily as he moves, sensually stalking towards the young lord like a wolf on the hunt. And Luke is his prey. “Your due as the Lord of this castle.”

“And that is..?” Luke trails off searchingly. Aemond now stands in front of him, the desk no longer in the way. An ideal situation for what he plans to do next. He leans towards his stepson, bending his lips to Luke’s ear as the other watches him with wariness and intrigue.

Aemond knows only too well how intrigued his nephew is by him.

“Me,” he whispers quietly, so quietly that the alpha doesn’t seem to hear him. Then his eyes widen to be comically large and he opens his mouth to protest, but Aemond strikes before he can. He settles on top of Luke’s lap in one swift move, straddling his legs like he belongs there.

Maybe he does.

Predictably, Luke immediately tries to turn him away. “Aemond, wh-what are you doing?!” The boy - who’s a man now, in truth - exclaims as he gets himself comfortable. This close, Luke’s scent of firewood and cedar is easy to pick up and delightfully appealing.

Aemond cocks his head as he stares at him. “Isn’t it obvious?” He asks coyly. “I’m settling into my new place.”

“Your new…” the young alpha looks as though he’s seen a ghost, “Your new place? And that’s on top of me?”

The omega shrugs. “On top of you, underneath you… Around you, while you bury yourself inside me… Whatever way you desire to have me, nephew.”

Luke’s face is filled with horror but Aemond can see the desire burning underneath that, the need that the silver haired prince has come to associate with Luke’s gaze on him. Aemond knows how badly Lucerys wants this.

But they both know how badly he shouldn’t.

As if hearing his thoughts, Lucerys tells him, “Aemond, we can’t- we can’t do this!”

“Why not? Don’t you want to?”

“No!” He denies hotly but Aemond knows it for a lie.

“Don’t you want me? Haven’t you always wanted me?” He purrs at the young alpha.

Lucerys shakes his head. “No,” he asserts but it’s softer this time, less insistent.

Aemond laughs. “Come now, Lucerys, don’t lie. I know you’ve wanted me for as long as you can remember.”

“What-“

“Did you think I didn’t notice the way you’ve lusted after me all these years? Did you think I didn’t know how badly you wanted to fuck me during every rut you’ve ever had since you were five-and-ten? This castle is old, my Lord, but the walls are thin and our rooms are right next to one another. I’ve heard everything.

“How you’ve touched yourself to the thought of me. How you moaned my name right before you came. I even know about the times when you grew bold, when sharing a wall with me wasn’t enough.” The omega revels in the horror and embarrassment that comes over Luke’s face from that revelation.

“Yes. That’s right, bastard. I know about the times you snuck into my chambers, like a thief in the night. I know about the times when you stood in my bedroom and stroked your cock while watching me sleep. You always tried so hard to keep quiet but you could never quite succeed.”

“If this is true, uncle,” Luke interrupts him, “If you knew of my… Affection for you-“

Aemond has to laugh at the way he says that. His nephew’s face is seemingly unreadable. To anyone else, he would appear the very picture of calm. But Aemond knows how hard his heart is hammering.

It’s a delicious kind of torture to make him endure.

“Then why did you not tell my father?” The alpha demands and Aemond can’t stop himself from snorting.

“Do you think he would have ever believed me? Harwin was a good man, make no mistake about that, but there is no way on earth he would have picked my side over yours. Not when you’re the son of his precious Rhaenyra.” He spits the name like it’s a curse. It might as well be.

Luke flinches at the name of his mother, but makes no further comment. It’s Aemond who speaks next, continuing with the monologue his stepson so rudely interrupted.

“Besides, I hardly had much of a leg to stand on, not when I was dripping at the thought of you turning me around and fucking me.”

That part is a bit of a lie but Lucerys doesn’t need to know that. He just needs him to fuck Aemond so that his belly can swell with a child. A child he’ll pass off as Harwin’s. It will be tricky getting Luke to agree with such a thing but Aemond has a few tricks of his own up his sleeve.

Namely, his stepson’s obvious infatuation with him. Lucerys stares at him like he just told him he placed the stars in the sky for him alone. “You… Wanted me to fuck you?” Luke asks slowly, as though he might have misheard Aemond or misunderstood his words.

Aemond swiftly puts an end to that. “Wanted to, yes… And still want to. And it seems like you want to fuck me too,” he rolls his hips for emphasis, grinding down on the hard bulge in Luke’s breeches that’s been steadily growing since he sat down.

The alpha gasps at the sensation, hands grabbing onto Aemond’s hips. To stop him or help him, he doesn’t know and he doesn’t care. He keeps grinding, moving his hips, trying to remember everything Aegon told him about pleasing an alpha in the letters he sent when Aemond wrote of his marital woes all those years ago.

Be slow but steady. Make sure he doesn’t put his cock anywhere near you until you’re dripping and he’s bursting at the sight of you. He has to think you want him, Aemond. He has to think you want him and him alone. That no other man will ever be able to satisfy you like he can.

With this thought in mind, Aemond rolls his hips in a wider circle, not unaffected by the sensual grind. The friction is decadent and it’s only a little theatrical when he throws his head back and moans softly. Too loud and he’ll spook Lucerys, he knows he will.

Yet that soft moan seems to have spooked him all the same. Luke lets out a groan that sounds like it’s been torn out of him before saying in a breathless voice, “Uncle… Qȳbor… Aemond, please, we must stop this. It’s not right-“

“Why not?” He demands, as he snaps his head back down to glare at Luke. His stepson stares back at him like he’s the only thing he’s ever wanted. And he’s here, he’s right here for the taking. That’s all Lucerys has to do; take him.

And yet still, he tries to deny himself. “You’re my father’s widower,” he counters him, pleadingly, “It’s- Aemond, the Faith will never accept-“

“Who cares?” He hisses, as the friction makes slick drip from his body. He’s never felt like this before, not outside of heat anyway. Still, he has enough wherewithal to say, “We are the blood of the dragon, you and I. The Faith has no place in such matters.”

Luke laughs even as he whines. “You’re saying that? You? You’re the most devout person I know, uncle. You live and breathe the Seven Pointed Star, like your mother.”

The omega hums. Yes, Aemond was very devout and he’d like to believe he still is but it’s hard to keep faith with the Seven when they’ve condemned him to such a life. A life of ridicule for being barren and unable to fulfil his lord husband’s needs when it was Harwin who refused him.

But he can’t say such a thing, so instead he changes tactics.

“And according to the Seven Pointed Star, I’m your responsibility now, for the time being at least. As your father’s widower, my needs are your duty,” the last word comes out as a lot more breathy than he’d like. Gods, but this feels good.

“And you need me?” Luke sounds demented, desperate, undone. Aemond adores it. I did this. “I’m supposed to believe that? When you’ve spent the entire time you’ve been at Harrenhal scorning me for being a bastard?”

The omega simply laughs. “Well, that’s what you are, aren’t you? And what I am is a lonely widower in need of some comfort. Someone to help me through my grief.” He sighs sadly, an obviously exaggerated sound.

So exaggerated it makes Luke chuckle. “You don’t look like you’re grieving,” he smirks at him, as his hips cant upwards and oh, that makes him keen.

He tries to turn it into a laugh. It wouldn’t do for him to seem more wanton than Luke. “Grief manifests itself in strange ways.”

It’s the wrong thing to say. Lucerys recoils from his touch and tries to push him away, which only makes Aemond hold on harder. “Aemond, please,” he begs, beseeching him for a mercy Aemond has no intention to grant. “This isn’t right. We can’t- I can’t-“

The omega rolls his hips down more firmly, once, twice, before delivering the final arrow left in his quiver. If Luke’s desire isn’t enough to get him to put aside his honour, perhaps his jealousy will be.

“If you’re unwilling to satisfy my needs, Lucerys, then by all means, allow me to find a man who will. I’ll need a new husband anyway.” He smirks, knowing the effect this will have on his stepson.

And what an effect it is. Luke goes rigid beneath him, his eyes frozen wide with fear. As if the realisation that Aemond will eventually have to remarry has finally sunk in. For a few moments, he does nothing but stare, and Aemond vaguely wonders if he’s broken him.

And then he’s yelping as his hands scrabble for purchase on Luke’s shoulders when the alpha properly grips his hips and moves. Off the chair, out from behind the desk and then striding over to the four poster bed where he deposits Aemond.

The omega has only a few seconds to recover before Lucerys is on him again. His nephew appears crazed, a heated look burning in his eyes that Aemond recognises but has never seen directed at him. A possessive kind of desire that makes him feel very small but oddly desired.

He doesn’t have much time to think on it for he’s too busy gasping at Luke’s hands on him. The flimsy omegan robe he dressed in that was only barely appropriate to wear is torn off his body as Lucerys leaves it in shreds around him. He’s left entirely bare and even though that’s what Aemond wanted, what he needed from this, he still feels the inane desire to cover himself.

So he does just that and shivers at the laugh that gains from Luke. “Oh no,” the alpha says, as his hands wrench Aemond’s away. His gaze doesn’t waver from staring at the pale expanse of Aemond’s bare skin. He knows what Luke sees; a muscled form shaped from years of sparring, and scars dotting his skin here and there from training.

An ugly and malformed body by omegan standards, yet Lucerys seems to enjoy the view, if the greedy way his eyes devour him is anything to go by.

“I’ve been denied looking at you like this for far too long,” Luke continues, “I intend to look my fill now. And make no mistake, omega, I’ll be the only one who gets to look at you like this.”

He jumps at the hands that skim over his taut stomach, reverently tracing the skin there. That’s all the warning he gets before Luke is kneeling to the ground and gripping his legs to drag him to the edge of the bed. He gasps when Luke leans forward to nuzzle at his groin, his face right next to his steadily growing cock.

“Gods, you smell divine,” Luke groans, inhaling the scent of apples and cinnamon paired with lust. “Even better than I dreamed you would. I wonder if you’ll taste as good as I imagined as well.”

Aemond blinks in confusion, wondering what he could mean by that. He opens his mouth to ask but whatever words he might have mustered are turned into a moan when Lucerys licks a long stripe up his cock before he takes it all in his mouth.

“Luke!” He screeches, as the alpha starts to suck. Lucerys only sucks harder at the noise and Aemond is left panting, hips moving in time with Luke’s ministrations. This feels better than anything sensation his own touch did to him during his heats. He feels like he’s being dragged toward a great precipice, his head soaring to new heights as his body sings with pleasure.

The feeling only increases when Luke’s fingers trail over his hole, which is wetter than he can ever remember it being. The alpha manages to get the tip of one finger in before Aemond comes with a scream, spilling down Luke’s throat and all over his fingers.

Lucerys sighs happily as he pulls away from Aemond, who’s left staring at the silk canopy above him. He blinks stupidly up at the fabric, feeling dazed and winded in the best of ways. He flinches at the tongue that probes at his hole, licking up the slick there like it’s the finest wine in all of Westeros.

“That was good, wasn’t it?” Lucerys asks in a tone that suggests he already knows the answer. Aemond nods helplessly anyway. “Hmm. I thought so. I think you should return the favour. Don’t you?”

Aemond stills. Did… Did Luke mean-

The omega makes a startled noise as Luke pulls him up and shuffles them around so the alpha is sitting up on the bed against the headboard, with Aemond kneeling between his legs. Lucerys takes a moment to unlace his breeches and shift them out of the way just enough so his cock is uncovered.

And then Aemond has to swallow at the sight of it, his eye wide and bulging. He’d known Lucerys would be big of course - most alphas tended to be - but he hadn’t realised he’d be this hung. How was that thing even supposed to fit inside him?

If the alpha notices his apprehension, he makes no comment on it, too busy threading his hand into Aemond’s hair to drag him forward. The other hand lazily strokes his cock to full hardness.

It’s obvious what Luke is after and yet Aemond still says, “You… You want me to-“ he can’t even say the words, everything his mother has ever told him about propriety and upstanding moral behaviour rearing its ugly head. Some seducer he is. “With my mouth?” He manages to get out at long last.

His nephew smirks down at him. “Go on,” Lucerys urges, “You came into this room playing the part of a highborn whore, and you did it perfectly. And this is what whores do.”

And it’s hard to argue with that, when he had been playing a whore. But this feels different now. This isn’t going to get him with child.

Something seems to flicker in Luke’s eyes at Aemond’s hesitation, a moment where his conscience takes the reins once more. His hand loosens the grip it has on his hair and he says in a gentle voice, “Hey, it’s okay if you don’t want to, Aemond. We don’t have to-“

Aemond acts without thinking, the knowledge that he can’t have Luke backing out right now spurring him on. He dips his head down, taking as much of Luke’s cock into his mouth as he can. Which turns out to be not a lot, as he chokes on the bit of length he does manage to take in.

Luke’s hand tightens a little in his hair, as he softly strokes the silver locks. “Easy,” he murmurs, “Take your time. Breathe through your nose.”

Aemond does so, breathing in carefully with Luke’s cock in his mouth. It’s warmer than he’d thought it would be, which is an inane thought to have and yet it’s all he can focus on. Well, that and the gentle way the alpha is still stroking his hair. It’s sweet, a tender action that doesn’t have any place in what is supposed to be a calculated seduction. Still, Aemond can’t deny that he likes it, the reverent way Lucerys threads his fingers through his silver locks.

Perhaps it’s this that makes him try again, circling his tongue slowly around Luke’s cockhead. The fingers tighten briefly and Luke hisses at the stimulation, a cut off curse that makes Aemond smirk. That makes him bold.

He keeps licking, trailing his lips up and down the alpha’s cock as Lucerys pants. His hips make aborted jerks, as if he wants to fuck up into Aemond’s mouth but is trying his hardest not to. He’s heard that’s the sort of thing some men do with whores, who kneel before them and let them fuck their mouths. The thought had always abhorred him before him. Now, it makes him want to choke on Luke’s seed as he swallows it all.

Aemond wraps his lips around the tip of the cock and sucks on it, making Lucerys curse vulgarly. It’s this that encourages him to take more of the alpha’s cock into his mouth, every inch garnering a visceral reaction from his nephew. There’s something about the way Lucerys is so clearly affected by his actions that makes him drip with need once more, his own cock twitching in interest as Luke cusses and groans.

“Fuck, Aemond,” he gasps, “Shit, just like that, that’s so good.”

The omega keeps sucking. Luke’s willpower flags and he’s unable to hold back anymore. Soon enough, he’s gripping onto Aemond’s hair hard enough to hurt, his hips snapping all the way into his mouth. Aemond chokes on it but Lucerys seems not to notice, too lost in the feel of his wet mouth around him.

“Always knew this mouth would feel good,” the alpha mutters to himself. “Those cocksucking lips of yours… You were made for this, Aemond. You were made to be mine.”

The Prince can offer no reply, not with Luke’s cock fucking his mouth. He lets Lucerys take control, since the alpha clearly had far more experience in these matters. The Lord of Harrenhal uses his mouth thoroughly, while Aemond focuses on breathing through his nose. He can sense that Luke is not far from his orgasm, what with the way his hips increase their pace and Aemond chokes a little at the thrusting. He’s just starting to wonder at the possibility of the alpha knotting his mouth - was such a thing even possible? - when Luke gives one final thrust before dragging Aemond off his cock by his hair.

The moment his mouth is free, Aemond sucks in deep breaths, glad for the reprieve. He falls to the side, stretching his legs out to ease the ache of kneeling. His eye is watering and he thinks the socket beneath the eyepatch must be too. He wonders how he looks in that moment, lying in his nephew’s bed, nude and having clearly just engaged in activities unbefitting of a widowed omega.

He probably looks exactly like the whore he’s pretending to be.

Lucerys strips out of the rest of his clothing, his eyes never once straying from where Aemond lies. He feels utterly indecent, with his legs spread wide and slick running down onto the sheets. Luke wastes no time in settling back onto the bed, knees bracing Aemond’s hips as his left hand lands near Aemond’s head for balance. The right hand, he does not see but rather feels when Lucerys trails a finger through the slick coming out of his hole.

The omega can’t stop himself from jumping at the sensation, as the tip of Luke’s finger gently circles his rim. “So tight,” Lucerys whispers, his voice barely louder than a murmur as he pushes the top of the finger in. Aemond makes a breathy kind of noise that he will deny having ever made to the end of his days. His nephew makes no comment on it, seemingly too obsessed with the way he slowly opens up for him until the whole finger is stuffed inside. He gives a few experimental thrusts that cause Aemond to whine.

And then those dark eyes are on his face again, brimming with desire. “You won’t be when we’re finished. I’m going to leave you gaping for days, uncle.”

Aemond can only moan as Lucerys slips another finger inside, stretching him out. He’s starting to get hard again, his body racing towards another high that Luke seems only too happy to push him towards. Two fingers quickly become three and Aemond can’t help but mewl at how they fill him up.

“Luke,” he begs, not entirely sure what he’s pleading for, “Please.”

He cries out when Luke’s fingers leave him suddenly, feeling bereft, until the alpha is nudging his thighs further apart. Aemond blinks his eye open, having not realised he even closed it, and stares down his body to watch Lucerys grip the tip of his cock as he moves it to Aemond’s hole.

The first brush of the head makes Aemond tense, something that is apparently not a good idea as Luke says, “Easy, omega. Just relax for me, okay? This will go better if you relax.”

He breathes out slowly, trying to get his muscles to unwind as much as possible. Lucerys waits patiently while he finally uncoils enough to let the alpha continue safely. And then Luke is pushing all the way in, slowly but steadily until he’s fully sheathed inside him.

“There will be pain, my dear,” His mother warned him when his father announced his marriage to the Lord of Harrenhal. Her eyes had been red with tears and anger, and the grip she held his hands in was tight. “There will be pain, the first time he beds you, but it will get better. It will, I promise.” She’d been frantic in her reassurances, so frantic that Aemond hadn’t believed her.

But it’s not pain that he feels when Lucerys spears him open. There’s discomfort, naturally, and a few aching twinges Aemond attributes to his maidenhead breaking that make him whine pitifully. Before he can do much more than that, Lucerys is there, pressing kisses onto his face, his neck, everywhere his lips can reach while he whispers softly, “Shh, it’s okay, you’re alright, gods, you feel so good.”

“Lucerys,” he bleats.

“I’m here, I’m here, gods, you’re so beautiful, I can’t believe this is happening,” Lucerys babbles on, saying all kinds of nonsense about how tight he is, how perfect, how lovely he looks, how good he’s going to make him feel.

And then his hand reaches up to his face, fingers on the eyepatch and Aemond stills completely. Lucerys looks down at him with soft, pleading eyes, the kind he remembers seeing on a younger face begging him to read to him. But Lucerys is not that boy anymore. Neither is Aemond the child who always gave in to his nephew’s demands, a put-upon expression on his face that hid his smile.

“May I?” The alpha breathes out, and Aemond can only stare, mouth agape. No one’s ever wanted to see beneath the patch. “Please, uncle,” he adds at his silence. “Please, oh please… Let me see my mark on you.”

Anger, visceral and raw, floods his veins in an instant, and he has half a mind to shove Lucerys off him so he can throttle the stupid man.

It’s gone in an instant, as something dark and powerful takes its place, the knowledge of what he does to his nephew without even trying stealing its place. He feels smug and feral with it, a primal satisfaction taking root within his soul.

This is going to be even easier than he thought.

“Do it,” he whispers. “Do it,” he repeats, his voice louder this time and strong with conviction.

The eyepatch falls to the side, forgotten. Aemond can see the expression on Luke’s face perfectly. There’s shame there, and regret, and something else, a kind of perverse pleasure as the alpha takes in the mark and the sapphire in the socket that once held his eye.

“Ao’re sīr gevie,” Luke mutters, “Ñuha omega.”

You’re so beautiful. My omega.

Before Aemond can make any kind of comment to that, Lucerys decides to start moving. The first and second thrusts are uncomfortable, the third, fourth and fifth a tad more bearable. But the sixth…

The sixth is ruinous.

Aemond gasps as pleasure bursts in his body, each thrust from Luke making his insides sing. His nephew sets an intense pace, every movement dedicated to making Aemond moan, or at least that’s what it feels like.

“Are you still grieving, qȳbor?” Luke smirks down at him, looking annoyingly put together. “Do you still feel lonely?” He asks, throwing the omega’s own words back at him.

Aemond can only whine in response.

“You won’t feel lonely when I’m done with you,” Luke promises, something dark and possessive burning in his eyes. A dragon staring at fresh meat. Prey turned to predator. Predator to prey. “I’ll keep you nice and full with my babes, uncle. You’ll be dripping my seed every hour of the day. That’s all you’ll do from now on, that’s all you’ll be; a wet hole for me to fuck my bastards into.”

“What?” Aemond gapes at the man ploughing into him, looking up at the face of his nephew and not recognising him. For the first time since he started this, the true folly of his seduction is sinking in. “N-no, that’s not-“ he tries to deny him but Luke thrusts in particularly deep and Aemond screams at the flare of pleasure it causes. Luke hits that spot again on the next thrust and Aemond can’t hold back his babbling, saying things like, Yes, yes, right there, and Oh gods, don’t stop, and Luke, please, fuck.

Somewhere in the back of his mind, he’s aware that’s he being too loud, that the guards can probably hear every word he’s saying. It’s counterproductive to his goals - he needs Luke to give him a baby so he can give birth to Harwin’s heir, and he needs that baby’s parentage to be above suspicion - yet in that moment, he doesn’t care. Not when Luke is giving him something he’s never felt outside of heat, a pleasure he long since thought was impossible to achieve.

Above him, the alpha groans, lost in the fantasy. “Gods, Aemond, you’re going to look so beautiful, all filled up with my pups. You’ll get to have you very own Strong bastards, I’ll make sure of it.”

That’s not what I want, is what he means to say but what comes out instead is a hissed, “Yes, alpha, give me a babe. Give me a bastard. Give me your bastard.”

Luke’s pace stutters to a halt for a brief moment in shock before he resumes with renewed vigour. If Aemond thought Luke had been fucking him hard before, it’s nothing compared to the way he mercilessly rams into the omega now, every thrust tearing into him and making him gasp and scream.

His orgasm doesn’t take long to wash over him after that. He keens when he does come, legs wrapped around Luke’s waist and hips meeting him thrust for thrust to ride out his high. Above him, Lucerys groans.

“Fuck,” he whispers, “Aemond-“ he cuts himself off, leaning down so his mouth can lick the omega’s neck, and that’s all the warning he gets before Lucerys bites him and fills him with his seed.

He claws down Luke’s back as the man knots him, his teeth piercing into his scent gland at the same time. Biting him. Marking him. Claiming him. He realises then how stupid he was to think that this would end with him carrying Harwin’s ‘heir.’ As if Lucerys would ever let him be anything other than his.

Lucerys pulls away when the knots deflates, rising to his knees on his bed. There is a desolate expression cast over his face, contrition and satisfaction warring for supremacy.

“Aemond,” he says in a husky, broken voice, as his tongue darts out to lick the blood still dripping from his lips. “I- Shit, I’m so-“

The alpha isn’t expecting it when Aemond hooks his foot around his calf and pushes at him to flip them over. Luke falls to the bed on his back with an “Oomph!” and Aemond is quick to settle on top of him. He can feel the blood from the bite sluggishly spilling down his shoulder and chest.

Lucerys stares up at him with wide eyes, panting with exertion. He probably thinks Aemond’s about to draw a dagger out of nowhere and stab him with it. Instead, the omega reaches down and grips Luke’s cock none too gently.

Luke immediately hisses at the sensation, as Aemond starts to stroke him. “Aemond, what are-“ he cuts himself off with a pathetic whine, overstimulation and arousal wracking his body and rendering him dumb.

Aemond tilts his head innocently. “You said you were going to give me a babe, my Lord,” the omega smirks at him. “You promised it. Do you think one fuck is going to be enough to accomplish that?”

Luke stares up at him, eyes now dark with desire, and though his face is pained, his cock responds readily to Aemond’s ministrations. He takes delight in leaning down and whispering his command.

“Breed me, bastard.”

Lucerys is only too happy to oblige.

Chapter Text

Eight Years Later

Aemond bites back a scream as he continues to push.

“Almost there, my Prince, almost there.” Alys Rivers tells him and he resists the urge to take a swing at her. “Just push.” He’s been fucking pushing for the last seven hours, he’s not exactly going to stop now.

“A few more pushes and you’ll have your daughter in your arms,” an attendant says, her sunny smile clear for all to see.

Aemond grits his teeth. “I’ve told you… Before… It’s a son- aaaaah!”

The room is filled with the sound of his scream, set free at long last, and the noise is soon joined by a baby crying. The omega sags in relief against the sheets now that his child has finally been born.

“A boy, my Prince!” One of the midwives announces joyfully.

Aemond laughs weakly. “Told you,” he mutters. He doesn’t have long to gloat in his victory before he’s having to push the afterbirth out. The baby is taken away, examined and cleaned, and by the time that’s done, the afterbirth has been dealt with and the omega gets to hold his son.

The Prince smiles as his latest child is placed in his arms. His son is still crying but his tears taper off as soon as he’s held in his papa’s arms. The boy is small, smaller than all his previous babes, probably due to him being born a few weeks too early.

“He’s so little,” Aemond frets, moving the cloth away from the babe’s chin so he can better see his face. “Will he be alright?”

“Perfectly fine, my Prince,” Alys informs him. He doesn’t even notice the others filing out of the room, too focused on looking at his boy. “He’s on the smaller side, to be sure, but as near as I can tell, everything has developed the way it ought to, and he’s got a healthy pair of lungs on him. Of course, greater care will have to be taken to ensure he doesn’t… Pass in the night.” The beta is clearly trying to choose her words carefully.

Ever since the passing of the previous maester of Harrenhal some five years ago, a new one had yet to be appointed or called for. Lucerys hadn’t seen the need for it, when Alys lived in Harrenhal already. The Witch of the Woods was the castle’s healer in all but name, and Aemond had to admit she was very effective in her craft. He still wasn’t entirely sure if she was truly magic or not but she had helped him safely deliver three out of five of his babes (the first two had been delivered by the previous maester), so he didn’t much care.

On a practical level, at least. On an impractical level, he was full of curiosity about the dark arts Alys was supposedly an expert in. It was this curiosity that led to him kindling a friendship with the witch.

Aemond nods in response to her verdict, looking down at the child. His son has the same dark hair as his father, his skin the same pale hue, his eyes the same shade of brown. He is the perfect little copy of Lucerys.

“What will his name be?” Alys asks after a few moments of silence.

Aemond smiles. “Valerion. That’s the name we agreed on.”

Well, sort of.

”It’s a girl, and we’ll call her Maegelle,” Lucerys insists teasingly one night as they lie abed, his hands on Aemond’s massive stomach.

The omega rolls his eye. “And when it’s a boy, we’ll call him Valerion.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Alys smirk, which is about as close to a smile as she ever gets. “Valerion Rivers. Soon to be Valerion Strong.”

The omega hums. That had been the case with all his and Luke’s other children. All of them born bastards until the letter that decreed their legitimisation arrived from King’s Landing, signed by Viserys himself.

Lucerys had been right when he said the Faith would never accept a marriage between the two of them. When High Septon Charres heard of the proposed union, he had strictly forbidden it from ever happening, denouncing their match as a disgrace to Harwin’s memory and to the Seven. It did not matter to him that he and his nephew were already bonded by this point and Aemond’s stomach had already swelled with Luke’s child.

The match was an abomination as far as Septon Charres was concerned, and he had written to Lucerys to encourage him to put Aemond aside. Naturally, Luke did no such thing. Instead, he wrote to the king.

Many might have expected Viserys to make Charres accept the union between his son and grandson. It’s certainly what Lucerys thought the old man would do. Aemond had known better. His father hated conflict and did all he could to avoid it. So instead of saving his omegan son from living in infamy for being a whore, Viserys simply promised that the child would be legitimised, regardless of Charres’s vehement disapproval.

And legitimised she was, as was all their other children. Valerion would be no exception, Aemond is sure.

His mother, of course, is furious with this arrangement. If she hadn’t hated Lucerys before, she certainly did now, when the alpha bit and pupped her son out of wedlock. Rumour had it that when she raised these grievances with her husband, all Viserys had to say was, “So long as Lucerys is happy, my love, that is all that matters.”

Alicent had gritted her teeth. “And what of Aemond?”

“Hmm? Oh, yes. Aemond, too.”

The omega wishes he could say he was surprised by this but it would be a lie. After the proclamation came, he had briefly considered wedding Luke in the ways of Old Valryia, but he feared the heart attack it would give his mother if they did. So instead, he and his lover have lived the past eight years in sin.

It’s been wonderful.

“Would you like the children to be sent for?” Alys asks.

Aemond thinks on it before shaking his head. “Not yet. Send the maids back in so I can clean up.” He’ll need a bath and new bedsheets. And his and Luke’s chambers will need airing out to get rid of the smell of blood and pain. “And have one of the Ravenkeepers send a letter to Lord Strong informing him of the birth.”

The omega knows that Luke would have given his right arm to be here for the birth, but as it so happens, the man had already been away when Aemond’s labours started. He’d gone to King’s Landing to retrieve one of the eggs from Tessarion’s most recent clutch, since Vhagar’s nesting days were long behind her. It had been their custom for each of their babies, for Aemond had wanted them all to be given an egg upon birth.

They’ve been lucky with them hatching so far. Their eldest daughters’s eggs both hatched, has had Elaena’s within months of their birth. Only Aelyx, their third born child, had yet to have a dragon to call his own, and Luke had already promised to take him to Dragonstone when he was a bit older so he might claim one there.

Alys leaves without another word, and anyone else would be terribly affronted by such insolence, but Aemond has come to enjoy it from the Witch of Harrenhal. Alys bowed before no one, and showed none any respect they had not earned.

The maids filter back in after that and Aemond is forced to pass Valerion off so that he might cleanse himself. Gods, he feels disgusting.

But before he does, he smiles down at the most recent addition to his little family, adoring the way Valerion seems to instinctively know who he is. “Hello, little one,” he whispers. “Your father is going to be so happy to meet you, just like I am.”

And though he’s only a baby, Valerion mumbles in response, as though he knows exactly what Aemond’s saying.

Maybe he does.

———

Later, when night has fallen, when Aemond has bathed and the sheets have been changed and he lies abed with Valerion in his arms once again, he hears a creaking at the door.

The omega blinks from the temporary stupor he’d been in, while his newborn remains blissfully asleep in his arms. The boy had just been fed for the first time and to say it had been an ordeal would be an understatement. Aemond did not look forward to it in the future.

The door creaks again and Aemond strains to listen beyond that. He’s not sure, but he thinks he can hear the sound of whispering voices and if he focuses just hard enough-

“Stop making so much noise!” A young voice hisses to someone, and the omega sags against the pillows when he realises who it must be. “You’re going to wake him up!” That was Rhaenys, no doubt.

“I’m trying to be quiet!” Another voice whisper-tells back. “It’s hard, okay?” And that’s Aelyx.

Aemond cuts off any further arguing. “You can come in now, children,” he calls out and any noise ceases immediately. He laughs when nothing happens. “There’s no point in hiding, I know you’re there.”

The door swings open fully now, and four children dressed in sleeping clothes stare at him guiltily from the doorway. He raises his eyebrow at them. “What are you all doing out of bed?” He reprimands lightly.

It’s Visenya who answers. “We heard the servants talking,” she explains. Her voice is quiet but firm, and there’s a steely determination in the way she holds her chin up. Not defiance, exactly, but resolve. “They said you had the baby. We wanted to see him.”

“And you couldn’t wait until morning?”

“Too long!” Little Elaena whines and Aemond laughs. Perhaps he should be more angry than he feels right now but it’s hard to when his pups are just all so cute.

“Come on in, then,” he beckons and they don’t need told twice. The four of them descend upon the room, clamouring around the edge of the bed where Aemond is. The omega takes this moment to look at each of them in turn.

Visenya is the one who makes it to him first, which isn’t surprising given that she’s the oldest. Not only is she the most grown so far and therefore the one most capable of getting to him fastest, her place as the eldest child often gives her some measure of seniority over the other children, who follow her lead with little protest. It reminds him of his own childhood with his nephews and brother.

Not that Visenya is like how Aegon was. She has no interest in pranks or games. Rather, the girl’s every waking moment is dedicated to her studies, to history, literature, arithmetic and philosophy. She shows a dedication and zeal for learning you’d be hard pressed to find mirrored anywhere else. The only thing she didn’t fully commit herself to was sparring. She learns enough to know what she’s doing and is perfectly content in not becoming a master. Aelyx took after his big sister in that regard as well.

Rhaenys is the opposite. Books and academia hold no interest for his second born, whose existence revolves around dancing and swords. An unusual combination perhaps, but Aemond thought both interests suit Rhaenys’s personality immensely. She’s a fierce little girl who loves to be on her feet.

Looking at the two of them, it’s easy to see why most people think they’re twins. They both took after him, with their silver hair and purple eyes. Only Visenya’s was hair was straight like his whereas Rhaenys’s curled like her father’s. But they were both roughly the same height and they looked the same age, being only a year apart at seven and six years old respectively.

He can still remember Maester Ordin’s disapproval when he conducted his examination and discovered he was pregnant with Rhaenys so quickly after Visenya’s birth. The old man had chastised Lucerys for that, saying Aemond needed more time in between childbirths for his body to recover. Luke had gone beet red and the omega had held back his laughter, remembering the way they had been all over each other in the months after Visenya was born.

“He’s so small,” Aelyx whispers, and Aemond turns to the little boy. Aelyx was the first of his children to inherit Luke’s dark hair, but straight, like Aemond’s, and his eyes are the same shade of violet as his too. The boy has a curious nature that the omega finds incredibly endearing.

“Ba-by,” Elaena says with a certain kind of reverence that Aemond can’t help but chuckle at. Their youngest daughter curiously enough has neither brown hair nor silver, but rather deep auburn locks Aemond thinks she must have gotten from Alicent. Her eyes are brown and very good at getting what they want.

“Yes,” he smiles down at them, shifting slightly so they can look at him better. “Meet your brother Valerion, my darlings.”

“Va-Valri-“ Elaena tries to say.

Aemond opens his mouth but Visenya beats him to speaking. “He can be Val, until you’re older and can say his name.” His eldest decrees, and the omega feels his heart swell with affection. He adores them, all of them, fiercely and without reserve.

He worried, at first, that he wouldn’t feel anything for them. When the morning after his seduction of Lucerys came and he had laid in that bed with a mark on his neck and his hole stuffed full of Luke’s seed, all he could think of was what a monumental mistake he’d made. Promising to give Luke a child when he knew nothing of raising one, of loving one. His own father had never loved him, and to this day prefers the ghost of Rhaenyra to his living offspring. And as for Alicent…

Aemond knows his mother loves her children, just as they love her, but that doesn’t change the fact that she’d been little more than a child herself when she’d been forced to have him and his siblings. She did the best she could, but one girl alone in a palace full of enemies? What mother wouldn’t struggle under those circumstances?

He’d thought it might have been the same case for him. Even though this is Harrenhal and not the Red Keep, the omega had still had his fair share of ill-wishers stalking the halls. Advisors to Lucerys, who thought Aemond a harlot with designs for power. Noble ladies, who had come to the Harrenhal with the purpose of seducing Lucerys, only to find themselves circumvented by the lord’s half uncle. Devout servants who thought Aemond a wicked temptress, sent to lure Luke from the light of the Seven with his omegan wiles.

(Completely ignoring the fact that Luke had never been with the light of the Seven a day in his life).

The point was, he’d been in a situation eerily similar, though with far less high stakes, and it had worried him. That he wouldn’t be able to protect his babe, that he wouldn’t to care for it as he or she deserved.

That all changed the moment Visenya started growing, and Aemond had known in his heart he would kill for the little life inside him, that he’d commit unspeakable atrocities if it meant protecting her. That feeling grew tenfold when he held her in his arms for the first time, and he knew he’d shower her in all the love his father never deemed him worthy of. And Lucerys had been the same, utterly enchanted with their little girl and all the babes that followed.

“Hi Val!” Elaena says excitedly, dragging Aemond’s thoughts back. Visenya smiles encouragingly at her. Aelyx stares intently at the babe, and the omega knows that if he had his journal on hand, he’d been writing all kinds of notes about his brother. His son was obsessed with note taking.

The three of them all seem very taken with little Valerion, unlike Rhaenys, who looks at the baby with narrowed eyes.

“What’s wrong, sweetling?” He asks her and the girl huffs.

“I thought he was going to be fun. But he’s just… Sleeping. It’s boring,” she pouts, and Aemond laughs.

“Trust me, you’ll be glad of the moments he’s sleeping sooner or later.”

“Why?”

“Because it means he’s not screaming his head off,” he tells her warmly.

He watches her eyes light up with mischief, “He can do that?” She asks excitedly.

“Not literally, Rhaenys,” Visenya interjects and the girl goes back to pouting.

Before anything more can be said by anyone, Aemond hears a tremendous raucous outside the doors, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps. He blinks and the chamber doors are being flung open to admit-

“Fa-Fa!” Elaena cries happily, toddling over as fast as her little legs can take her to where Lucerys has appeared in the room. Aemond stares at his lover with a wide eye, while Luke stares back with a worried expression. He barely he even seems to notice Elaena now clinging onto his leg.

His body reacts instinctively though, picking the girl up and settling her in his hold like she weighs no more than a bushel of grapes. His eyes seem focused on Aemond, tracking over his body as though he can see through the covers he’s wrapped up in, and the little bundle of cloth that holds their youngest son.

Whatever the alpha sees must be to his satisfaction, for he lets out a quiet sigh of relief. That’s about all he can focus on before the rest of his children descend on Luke faster than the hounds of hell.

“Father!” They cry joyfully as they swarm, with Elaena still softly chanting “Fa-Fa!” ‘Father’ is still too difficult for her to say. Aemond watches fondly as Lucerys takes to his knee so he can hug their children. Luke is a good father, indulgent and caring, but strict when it’s called for. And he loves all of their pups with everything in his heart.

“Hello,” he chuckles as they cling onto him. “What are you all still doing up?”

“We came to see the baby!” Rhaenys tells him.

“His name’s Val.” Visenya dutifully informs him.

“Val?” The alpha questions.

“Valerion,” Aemond clarifies, and Lucerys looks up to him. The omega can’t quite describe the feeling that encompasses his being when Lucerys looks at him, only that it sets him aflame and calms his heart at the same time.

He listens as Luke chuckles softly. “I guess you were right then,” he says, a twinkle in his eyes.

Aemond smirks. “Aren’t I always?”

That makes his alpha laugh, and the mark on his neck hums with contentment. The bond has been strained since Luke departed but now that he is back, it has settled, like a hand steadying a spinning top.

“Of course, dearest. Now, I think it’s time that you four ought to be in bed,” Lucerys looks down at their children with a pointed look in his eyes, one that has all of them grumbling.

“Come on, five minutes!” Rhaenys whines adorably, making Aemond think Luke will cave immediately. His lover might look intimidating but he’s an absolute teddy bear, especially for the children, and more often than not gives them everything they want in a heartbeat, if only because he can’t say no to them.

What a softie.

But instead of acquiescing, Luke shakes his his head. “Bed time,” he orders firmly.

“But we want to see the baby,” Aelyx protests, managing to sound marginally less whiny than Rhaenys, but only just.

“No,” the alpha asserts, and Aemond watches with thinly veiled amusement as Luke calls for one of the guards to escort the children back to their rooms. It’s not exactly a lengthy walk for any of them, given that their pups all live on the same corridor in the same wing of the castle.

“Say goodnight to your kēpa,” Luke tells them, and they obediently toddle over to him.

“Goodnight, my darlings,” he says, and gives each of them a hug and a kiss on the cheek. He’s smiling as they pull away, toddling back over to the door where the summoned guard awaits them. Luke gives them a hug each as well before the door is shut, and Aemond is alone with his lover and newborn.

For a moment, neither of them say anything, simply taking the time to take the other in. Lucerys has not been gone that long, in truth, yet it still hurt for him to be so far away, even knowing he would come back. His past self would scorn him for this weakness, when it is Luke who is supposed to be obsessed with him and not the other way round. But his past self had not known the joy of being Lucerys Strong’s omega. Of having his children, of being his most trusted and loved confidant.

It is an intoxicating feeling Aemond would be hard pressed to find mirrored anywhere else.

He takes his lover in, noting the slightly longer curls, the hint of a stubble on his cheeks, the dusty riding leathers he’s still dressed in, as though he came straight from the courtyard to here. Lucerys gazes back, and Aemond wonders what he sees that makes his eyes go so soft with love and affection. It’d be sickening to see it on any other’s face, but on Luke’s, it is simply right.

Valerion makes a noise all of a sudden, a simple grumbling in his sleep, but it’s enough to break them out of their daydreaming. Lucerys rushes over to the bed as quickly as he can without running, and takes a seat on the edge not occupied by Aemond. The omega feels the mattress dip under his alpha’s weight.

It isn’t surprising when Luke leans forward and places a sweet kiss on his lips. Aemond sighs into it, leaning forward as much as he can without disturbing Valerion.

“Hi,” Luke whispers when the kiss ends.

“Hi,” he echoes, “I wasn’t expecting you for another two days.”

“I just got back,” he explains, as if Aemond wouldn’t know from the riding leathers he’s still wearing. “The guards said you had the babe while I was away, but I knew he wasn’t due for another three weeks at least and… I worried. Ran straight here,” Luke’s hand comes up to rub the back of his neck in that bashful way that Aemond used to hate but has since become unbelievably endeared by.

Luke’s gaze shifts to the baby, taking in the sight of his second born son. Aemond carefully places him in his father’s waiting arms, who smiles softly at the babe like he’s holding the most precious thing in the world.

“Hello,” the alpha whispers softly to the still sleeping Valerion. “Oh, you’re perfect. I’m sorry I wasn’t here when you were born, but I’m here now.”

As it seems prone to do these days, Aemond’s heart warms watching his alpha talk to their son. To think there’d been a time when he worried Luke wouldn’t care for any of the pups they’d made, that he’d discard them the moment they were were born. Or worse still, that he would only love his heir while ignoring the rest of them.

But time has proven him wrong. Lucerys is an attentive father, who loves their children something fierce. Aemond knows that, yet it always takes him back to see it in action, to see the reverent way Luke talks to their children. It humbles him and undoes him completely.

“How did it go?” Aemond asks him after the alpha falls silent.

Luke shifts his eyes from Valerion to the omega, smiling softly. “Alright. I arrived in King’s Landing and met my brothers. Then met Daeron and we went to see Tessarion together. She’s grown since I saw her last, but I think she remembered me. She didn’t incinerate me on sight, at least. Getting the egg was easy enough. I gave it to the Dragonkeepers to look after for the time being. Honestly, not much happened,” Luke chuckles before a thoughtful look comes over his face, like he’s considering something. Then he shakes his head.

“What is it?” He asks.

Lucerys looks away. “It’s… It’s nothing.”

“Clearly it’s not.”

“It’s only that,” he licks his lips, “I had dinner with Grandfather one of the nights I was there.”

Aemond feels himself become a strange mix of irritated and apprehensive. “Oh? What did you talk about?”

“It’s not so much what we talked about as it is how he was. He’s… He’s sick, Aemond.”

The omega scoffs. “And? He’s always been sick. For as long as I can remember.” It was one of the main staples of his childhood.

But Luke shakes his head. “Not like this. He’s never been this bad. I don’t think he’s got long left.”

Aemond blinks, oddly unsettled by the news. Once upon a time, Viserys is someone the omega would have given anything to have look at him. Just acknowledge him, for more than a few seconds. Just look at him like he looked at Rhaenyra. That all changed after he lost his eye. He knew then that Viserys would never love him and that he was wasting his time trying to impress a man who barely remembered he existed.

Even knowing that though, there’s still something uncomfortable about the idea of Viserys passing away. It was always bound to happen, of course, but Aemond had thought the old man would cling to life just a little longer. Maybe it’s some innate sense of familial loyalty for makes his stomach churn. Maybe it’s Alicent he truly feels bad for, who seems to care for Viserys despite how much of an utter failure he is to her as a husband.

Whatever it is, he doesn’t like it.

“Hey,” Lucerys says gently, those dark eyes of his soft and kind. “Are you okay?”

“Fine.” He doesn’t want to talk about Viserys. “Did you see my mother while you were in King’s Landing?”

Luke isn’t quite successful in holding back his grimace, and Aemond smirks at it. “Yes. She’s… The same as always.”

“And what is she always, exactly? Bearing in mind that this is my mother we’re talking about,” Aemond teases.

The alpha huffs. “I’m not stupid enough to answer that. And in any case, I think it’s time this one went to bed as well,” he says this to Valerion, who continues to doze in his arms.

Aemond rolls his eye but doesn’t comment on Luke avoiding the question. Instead, he watches the alpha slowly come off the bed and walk over to the cot that Aemond had ordered brought in once Valerion was born. It’s the same one they’ve used with every other babe, a sturdy thing that was gifted to them by Rhaena, funnily enough. The woman had been surprisingly supportive in their relationship, sinful though it was to almost everyone else. The omega supposes it’s probably more for Luke’s sake than his that she’s so happy about it.

Then again, maybe she was happy because it cleared the way for her to marry Garmund, a cousin of some description. There had been talks of a betrothal between Rhaena and Luke, but they’d been swiftly dismissed when it was announced Aemond was pupped with his child.

Lucerys makes quick work of putting Valerion in the cot, walking back over to Aemond after whispering goodnight to the pup.

Such a softie.

Aemond watches as Luke shucks off his riding leathers, leaving them in a bundle on the floor to be dealt with in the morning. His alpha strips himself of his underclothes, and wipes himself down the cloth and water basin kept in the room for washing hands. It’s not a bath but it’s better than nothing. Most of the servants are sleeping, so of course Luke doesn’t want to disturb them.

After changing into some fresh sleeping clothes, Luke crawls into bed, taking care not to jostle Aemond too much, even as he draws him into his arms. The omega muffles the sound of discomfort wanting to escape him as his lower half is moved.

Lucerys isn’t fooled. “Are you alright?”

He smiles reassuringly. “I’m fine. Just a bit sore from the birth.”

“Hmm. I’m sorry I wasn’t here.”

“Not your fault.”

“Even still.”

They lapse into silence. Aemond’s eye trails over Luke’s face, taking in all the changes he’s seen happen to it over the years. It’s hard to believe so much has changed so quickly.

As if reading his mind, Lucerys murmurs, “Hard to believe it’s been eight years already.”

Aemond hums. “I suppose time flies when you’re having fun.”

“And have you? Had fun?” The alpha asks, a strange look in his eyes.

He raises an eyebrow. “What kind of a question is that?”

“Just- Answer it. Please.”

He frowns but nonetheless tells his lover, “Yes. I’ve had fun.” It’s a vast understatement of how completely Luke and their children have enriched his life but he figures it will suffice.

Yet as it turns out, he’s wrong in that, for Lucerys presses him further. “And you’re not miserable? You don’t wish you could go back and change things?”

Aemond’s eye narrows, his suspicion increased tenfold. “What is this?” He demands. “Why are you asking me these questions?”

Lucerys sighs deeply, and Aemond’s concern only grows. What did the alpha gain from asking him these things? Luke knows that if Aemond were unsatisfied, he’d tell him. He’d make it bloody obvious.

“Something happened, while I was in King’s Landing,” Luke starts to explain. “The king received a letter from Oldtown. High Septon Charres has passed on. A wasting illness, apparently.”

Hope, infernal and immortal, blooms in his chest. “Does that mean-”

“His replacement has already been chosen, a septon named Kevvan. I’ve spoken with him, Aemond, he was in King’s Landing. He- He’s said he’ll marry us.” Luke seems nervous all of a sudden, like a boy confessing to a crush for the first time. His scent is tinged with fear, and it makes Aemond’s nerves tremble. “Assuming you want to, of course,” Luke tells him quickly.

Aemond blinks. And then heaves a sigh of relief, leaning forward to press his lips to Luke’s because he understands now.

“Of course I want to,” he says when he pulls back. “This is what we’ve waited for.”

Luke’s scent floods his noise, cedar and firewood mixed with happiness, and his alpha smiles. “Truly?”

“Yes. Do you honestly think I’m capable of saying no to you at this point?”

His tone is teasing but it makes Lucerys frown all the same. “Aemond,” he says carefully, “I don’t want you to feel like I’m forcing you to do this or-“

Aemond cuts him off with another kiss, rolling his eye when it ends and making sure Luke can see. “Gods, you’re so dumb sometimes. If I felt you were forcing me to do anything, I’d run you through with my sword.”

That makes Lucerys laugh. “True, you would,” he concedes. “So?”

“So what?”

“Will you marry me?”

An exhale of amusement. “I thought I already gave you my answer.”

“I’d like to hear it all the same.”

He sighs, a dramatic sound that does nothing to hide how wide his smile is. “Yes, I’ll marry you.”

All the tension leaves Luke’s shoulders in an instant. The alpha shuffles closer to him, leaning forward so he can nuzzle his neck and breathe him in. The stubble scratches a little but he ignores it. His scent gland pulses underneath Luke’s nose and mouth, the bite throbbing in the most delightful way.

Aemond responds by carding his fingers through Luke’s hair, those unruly curls that his hands now know so well.

“Did you truly think I’d say no?” He asks after a long time of the two of them simply basking in each other’s presence. Valerion has been blissfully silent.

Luke shrugs and Aemond feels the movement more than he sees it. “It was a worry. I know… I know it’s not been easy for you. Being the lord’s paramour.”

He laughs. “That’s a kind word for whore.”

The alpha scowls, twisting his head to look him in the eye. “Don’t call yourself that.”

“Why not? Everyone else does.”

Luke’s eyes go dark with a cold anger then, and he growls, “Who? I thought I’d made it clear-“

Aemond cups his face with one hand, gently stroking his cheek. “No one in the castle, my love,” he tells him soothingly. “Your warning was very effective the first time round.” Years ago, Luke had overheard two servants talking about ‘The Lord’s Whore’ once and made sure the whole keep knew that if they referred to Aemond as such ever again, they’d be dismissed from their posts immediately. “But there are other places in the world besides Harrenhal.”

His last visit to King’s Landing had proved that. He and Luke had taken the children to the Red Keep so that Alicent might see her grandchildren again, and so Daeron and Luke’s brothers could see their nieces and nephew. Lucerys and the children had been afforded every courtesy by the court there, and so had Aemond, but the omega hadn’t been deaf to the whispers that followed him around. ‘Whore’ had been the kindest thing people said about him.

They’ve been to other places, like Dorne, to see Aegon and his three pups with Qoren. No one had batted an eyelid at his and Luke’s unconventional union there, and their children had enjoyed playing with their cousins in the warm sun. They’d also gone to the North, to see Helaena, Cregan, and all their brood. What a journey that had been. Vhagar had always loved longer flights, and she’d been purring by the time they made it to Winterfell. It had amused Elaena to no end.

The inhabitants had been a tad more aloof with them there, but had quickly warmed up to them. Aemond thinks it’s because they witnessed firsthand how devoted Lucerys is to him, and by the time they left, tales of their forbidden love had been on everyone’s lips.

Luke scowls. “People should mind their own business.”

Aemomd laughs again. “Maybe, but we both know they won’t. Besides, it will hardly matter once we’re wed.”

His lover nods slowly, as if settled. “Yes, I suppose that’s true.”

They lapse back into silence after that, the kind that usually indicates they’re done talking for the night and are ready to go to sleep. Aemond is grateful for it. It’s been a strenuous day and he’s certain Valerion will be waking them up before long, crying for a feeding.

But before he can truly start to drift off, Luke murmurs, “Aemond?”

“Yes?”

“I love you,” he whispers it softly, more a sigh than actual words, and Aemond smiles.

“I love you too.”

It’s not the first time they’ve said it. It won’t be the last either. And the knowledge of that warms Aemond quicker than any flame.

———

They’re married by the end of the week, the soon-to-be High Septon Kevvan making a detour to Harrenhal on his way to Old Town. The whole castle gathers for the ceremony, though they don’t invite anyone else. It would take too long for them to get there.

They are married in the godswood, beneath the weeping Heart Tree. Luke cloaks him in his colours and vows to love him until the end of his days, as their children cheer for them.

Aemond can think of no sweeter fate.

———

They pass a few weeks in wedded bliss, which admittedly isn’t different to anything they’ve done before, but it feels different. Because Luke is his now, just as Aemond is Luke’s, and neither gods nor men can tear them apart. In Harrenhal, it feels like they’re living in their own world, a perfect fantasy of their making that nothing can shatter.

Aemond is soon reminded that there is a world beyond the Riverlands, and it’s one that demands their attention, for one afternoon a handful of weeks after the wedding, a letter arrives from King’s Landing.

King Viserys of House Targaryen, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the Rhoynar and the First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, and Protector of the Realm has finally succumbed to his illness and is now one with the Seven. And more importantly to him, with his wife and daughter again.

And thus, Aemond and Luke’s first outing as married men is not at a celebration as he had hoped but at a funeral.

———

Jacaerys stands tall as the now Dowager Queen Alicent continues to give the eulogy for his grandfather. Her eyes are noticeably wet, but she doesn’t cry and her voice does not waver. He’s long since learned Alicent is a woman who rarely shows weakness where others can see it. She’s obviously aggrieved by his grandfather’s death, though Jace thinks she isn’t nearly as upset as she had been when his mother died.

First his mother, then his father and now Viserys. Death seems to hover over his family like flies on a rotten apple.

Beside him, little Daemion, his and Baela’s third and youngest child, fusses in his mother’s arms. Jace turns to them, watching as his wife easily soothes the little babe. Even heartbroken as he is by his Grandsire’s death, the sight of them make his woes feel a little lighter.

Standing a row in front of him, his two eldest children decide now is the perfect time to start bickering with each other. The alpha resists the urge to sigh. He can’t imagine what they could be arguing about, but whatever it is, it’s important enough that their volume is rapidly increasing from hushed whispers to loud grumbles.

He wishes he could say such a thing weren’t common, but it is. The times when Rhaegar and Laena aren’t at odds with one other are few and far between. He knows they love each other, in that way that all siblings love each other, but they don’t get on all that well. Any thoughts he and Baela may have had about betrothing them when the time came and marrying them in the traditions of their house soon died a quiet death. They’d have to find Rhaegar a queen from somewhere else.

Privately, he’s rather glad about this, as is Baela. He likes Daemon well enough, but his goodfather’s obsession with Valyrian blood purity is immensely exhausting. And he wasn’t thrilled at the idea of his two children marrying, even if it is traditional.

The bickering increases and just when Jace is about to step forward to tell them to knock it off, someone else intervenes. Someone entirely unexpected. Jace watches with curious eyes as Visenya, his eldest niece and Luke’s firstborn, leans towards the two of them and says something quietly to his son and daughter. He’s too far away to hear what it is, but whatever she says is effective; Rhaegar clamps his mouth shut immediately, while Laena huffs and crosses her arms, but stays miraculously silent.

Visenya straightens once both are settled. Her posture is perfect, her hands primly clasped in front of her, and though Jacaerys cannot see her face, he somehow knows her expression is one of utter attentiveness, appearing as though she is hanging onto her grandmother’s every word.

It gives him pause. He hasn’t spent as much time with his brother’s children as he might have liked - he’s tried, of course, over the past eight years to visit but his duties often kept him bound to King’s Landing, just as Luke’s responsibilities shackled him to Harrenhal. But the death of the king means that Luke has brought his entire family with him to the Red Keep, including his newly wed husband.

Jace can see them out of the corner of his eye. Luke’s standing on his right side and Aemond stands next to him. Both are dressed in black, just as everyone else is, and his uncle holds their newborn in his arms. Valerion Strong, as he is now, the first of his siblings to be legitimised not by royal decree but by marriage.

To this day, he still can’t quite wrap his head around how exactly his brother had come to love Aemond, their father’s widower.

The way the two of them collided - with his uncle proudly bearing Luke’s bastards - is strange to say the least. Especially considering the history the two of them had with that word. He hadn’t known what to expect of his brother’s romance with Aemond (and gods, that still felt weird to consider) but what he had known is that it wouldn’t last, and he had said as much to Luke when the pregnancy was first announced.

To say his brother hadn’t received the news calmly would be an understatement. Luke had been furious, in a way Jace had never seen before, and he’d told Jacaerys in no uncertain terms that he would be Aemond’s alpha to his dying day. Jace had let him have the last word, certain that the relationship would go up in flames in a matter of weeks.

Or so he thought. Eight years, five children and a wedding have proven him a liar.

Jacaerys isn’t exactly happy his brother hadn’t invited him to his wedding, but he doesn’t take too much offence. After all, no one had been invited save for those already at Harrenhal. And in any case, any offence he might have felt has since withered with his grandfather’s death. The alpha has more important things to deal with, like the fact that he is to be crowned king in a matter of months.

And kings had many worries to contend with, the future of the dynasty not least among them.

The alpha sighs quietly to himself as he looks to Rhaegar. The day his son had been born was among the happiest in his life. He loves the boy, and Laena and Daemion, more fiercely than he thought it was possible to love anyone. He finally understood what his mother had meant when she told him she’d do anything for him. He can’t imagine any lengths he wouldn’t go to for his children. The love he has for them is all-encompassing and knows no bounds.

But loving someone doesn’t mean you’re blind to their flaws. Rhaegar is a good lad, at heart, but he’s also petulant and uninterested in a lot of the studies he needs to take seriously if he is to be king one day. Put simply, the boy lacks discipline, and Jace isn’t sure how to teach it to him.

But kings do not rule alone. Nor do lords, and he can see that in Luke and Aemond’s rule. For all his gripes about his uncle - and there are many - he’s only ever heard good things about how Harrenhal has flourished under their joint leadership these many years. And it seems Visenya follows in their footsteps.

Luke’s letters are often full of praise for his children and in them, he’s mentioned time and again how dedicated his eldest niece is to her studies. How she is unusually level headed for one so young. How she is often the mediator between any fights that break out between the younger children. She had all the makings of the perfect lady. The perfect heir.

Or maybe something more.

It’s too soon to tell of course, whether the girl truly had the mettle for ruling, but from what he’s seen and heard of her so far… Yes, it is certainly an idea with merit.

Perhaps he would not have to look far to find his son a queen.

Chapter Text

Nine Years Later

“Would you care for some more tea, darling?” Alicent asks as she pours herself another cup. Her grip is delicate yet firm, and the pot does not shake once, despite the two-year-old in her lap. The spring air envelopes them wonderfully out here on his mother’s balcony. The past winter had been blissfully short, and Alicent was quick to take advantage of the warmth once again.

As always these days, his mother is dressed in an elegant gown of black, a symbol of her infinite mourning.

Aemond smiles as much as he can through his annoyance. “Yes, thank you, Mother. Perhaps the girls would like some as well,” he says this last bit rather pointedly at his two eldest daughters. The two-year-old held securely in his lap is undisturbed by him speaking, more focused on the wooden dragon figurine she holds than anything going on around her.

Visenya is quick to take the hint. “I’d love some, Grandmother,” she says, smiling that gorgeous smile of hers. She’s good at responding to social cues.

Rhaenys, on the other hand, simply scowls to herself, ripping her lemon cake to shreds on her plate. He knows for a fact she can feel his unimpressed stare bearing into her and that means she’s simply choosing to ignore it.

He hasn’t got on with his second eldest for a while now. Rhaenys had always been a wilful child, brash and reckless in ways he and Luke had always adored about her. He still adores it, though he can admit it’s become more frustrating than endearing. The girl walks around with a chip on her shoulder bigger than Westeros, and it’s only gotten worse since she presented a few months ago at five-and-ten.

Not as an alpha, as she had so dearly hoped, but as an omega. Just as Visenya had, though her sister took to her presentation with far more grace. Visenya had seem almost relieved by it, becoming confident and self-assured in a way he hadn’t seen from her before. For Rhaenys, it is the opposite. His daughter rages at the world for things out of her control.

He understands it; of course he does. How can he not when his own childhood was filled with dreams of becoming a powerful alpha of House Targaryen, only to present as the exact opposite? He knows only too well the conflict within her, but try as he might to talk to her about it, he can’t. The fact is Rhaenys doesn’t want to listen to him or Lucerys anymore.

He’s just about to chastise her when Daenerys squeals excitedly in his lap.

“Kēpa, Kēpa!” The girl cries happily, a chubby finger pointing to the sky. “Dragons!”

Aemond looks up to see Moondancer and Silverwing flying over the capitol. It’s not such an uncommon sight - Queen Baela and Princess Laena were known to take to the skies with their dragons at all hours - but it’s still a marvel for Daenerys. His and Luke’s youngest child, who loved dragons more than life itself.

Daella, Daenerys’s twin who is being held by Alicent right now and who has the same silver hair and brown eyes as her sister, is quick to join in on her sister’s cries. It is enough to make the rest of the company smile, even sullen Rhaenys. Aemond’s missed the sight of her smile.

Visenya, being quick to pick up on Rhaenys’s improving mood, says, “Perhaps we can go for a flight after tea, sister. The weather is ideal for it.”

And Rhaenys’s eyes light up with the idea. “Yes, let’s. It’s been staying light for longer, maybe we could go for a longer flight too. I hear there are some isles in between here and Driftmark that have wild dragons on them, maybe we could-“

He sees Visenya’s smile slip slightly and can already tell disaster is about to strike. “Oh, I’m afraid I won’t be able to stay out too long. Kēpa and I are meeting with Uncle Jace, you see, and Rhaegar.”

She might as well have said that the Doom was coming to Westeros, considering the reaction she gets. Any joy on Rhaenys’s face vanishes as anger-frustration seeps into her usually sweet scent.

“Of course,” she says bitterly, “We mustn’t keep Uncle Jace waiting, or dear Cousin Rhaegar.”

Aemond frowns. “That is our family you’re talking about, young lady.” Never in a million years did Aemond think he’d stop his children from badmouthing Jacaerys, however indirectly, but such was his life now.

The girl scoffs. “Yes, our family, my family, my uncle who wears a crown and insists on seeing you and Visenya with Rhaegar all the time. Haven’t you ever wondered why, Kēpa?” She asks disdainfully.

“That is none of your concern.” He tells her firmly, hoping she’ll let it go.

She doesn’t. “Isn’t it?” Rhaenys bites out, “Aren’t you my family too? Can’t we acknowledge what’s actually happening here? Rhaegar and Laena can’t stand each other, Daemion’s a beta, and Alyssa’s too young to get married, so Uncle Jace wants Visenya to marry Rhaegar, to continue the dynasty, and then-“ here, she falters in her tirade, anger of a different kind choking up in her throat. She swallows it down, “And then it will be my turn.”

The omega sighs quietly to himself. It’s not as if she’s saying anything he himself hasn’t thought of. Logically speaking, there’s only one reason why Jace would want their eldest children to spend time together at this age. Why else would he ask Aemond and Visenya to stay in King’s Landing when Lucerys had to fly back to Harrenhal a few weeks prior?

Aemond’s no fool. He knows what is to become of this. But since neither Jace nor Luke has made mention of such a thing - and he’s sure they’d talk to each other about it first - he won’t either.

But how to explain that to a rage-filled teenager who barely listens to him as it is?

Apparently, he takes too long to respond. Rhaenys scowls fiercely, uncrossing her arms so her hands can curl into fists at her sides. “You don’t even try to deny it. Tell me, Kēpa, who exactly is it you and Father are bartering me off to? Loreon Lannister? Royce Baratheon? Jeyne Redwyne? Or were thinking someone closer to home? Minisa Mooton, maybe? Or perhaps Samwell Tully-“

“Enough, Rhaenys,” he cuts her off, staring at her with a hard gaze. Daenerys makes a noise of protest in his lap, sensing how his ire has risen. “I don’t know where you’ve gained this notion that we’re selling you off just because you’ve presented now, but get it out of your head. It’s not something that’s happening and definitely not something we’re talking about without your father present.”

Rhaenys’s laugh is a bitter thing. “You expect me to believe that? Why can’t you just admit it?” Her voice is getting louder, causing the babies to fuss at the noise.

“There’s nothing to admit-“ he tries to tell her but she screams before he gets the chance.

“Stop fucking lying!”

“Rhaenys!” Alicent gasps, her tone one of chastisement but his daughter takes no notice of it.

“Young lady, that is enough!” The babes are crying now, and Visenya is trying desperately to get her sister to calm down, with no luck.

“Ugh, fuck this!” She exclaims, rising from her chair and storming out the room like a woman going to battle. Aemond stands too, intent on going after her, but his mother’s voice gives him pause.

“Let her go, Aemond,” Alicent tells him kindly, as she rocks a teary Daella in her arms. He looks to Visenya, who’s looking between him and to where Rhaenys has slammed the door shut.

“May I be excused, Grandmother?” His eldest asks, turning to Alicent.

He can tell his mother’s trying to smile at her, “Of course, dear.”

Visenya doesn’t leave yet. “Kēpa?” She asks. He grunts wordlessly in response and hears her take off after her sister like a cat giving chase to a mouse. The doors swing shut after her. He stays standing until Daenerys whimpers in his arms again. After a moment, Aemond sits back down and sets upon calming the girl.

For several minutes, the balcony is filled with the sounds of him and his mother calming the twins, who eventually settle and go back to what they were doing before. In Daenerys’s case, that’s playing with Balerion the Wooden Dread. In Daella’s, it’s dozing lightly in the Dowager Queen’s arms.

It’s as this is happening that the embarrassment of the whole situation sinks in and it is with as much grace as he can muster that he says to Alicent, “I’m sorry you had to see that, Mother. It’s- Rhaenys, she…” he trails off, trying to explain his daughter’s behaviour in a way that doesn’t make her sound like a moody brat.

“Is a teenager in a difficult time of her life?” Alicent finishes for him kindly. “It’s alright, Aemond. That was nothing compared to some of the spats I’ve had with Aegon.”

That makes him laugh a little. It’s too high-strung to be genuine mirth but it’s close enough to settle his nerves a little. Gods, he could so easily remember how Alicent and Aegon screamed at each other sometimes, particularly when his brother would come back from the Street of Silk covered in scents that weren’t his own.

A horrible thought occurs to him, and he sends up a silent prayer to the Seven that he won’t have to deal with his own daughter doing such a thing.

“Things have been difficult between you two recently, haven’t they?” His mother continues, her tone a little too knowing as she gently wipes away the remnants of Daella’s tears.

The omega can do nothing but sigh. “Yes,” he admits, shifting Daenerys in his arms, who coos in delight. “Ever since she presented, it’s like every conversation between us has been a battle. I’d known she was unhappy with becoming an omega, but I hadn’t thought it was because she believed…” he trails off, not willing to give voice to it. That his own daughter truly believed he and Luke would do such a thing to her.

Ever since the moment his father announced his wedding to Harwin all those years ago, Aemond had vowed to himself that he would never let such a fate befall his children. That he would threaten whoever he had to, even Harwin himself, to make sure they weren’t treated the same way he and his siblings were. The way his mother was. Broodmares sold off at auction to whoever could give their house the most prestige and power.

Across from him, the beta woman smiles sadly. “Is it really so surprising, that she would think such a thing? It’s what often happens to highborn omegas and betas. You know that only too well yourself. The same thing happened to you, after all. The fact that it worked out for you has nothing to do with the match your father made and everything to do with that boy-“

Mother cuts herself off, her jaw tight. Even after all these years, Alicent still doesn’t like to think about how Luke shamed him, however unintentionally. It had been Aemond’s choice, and his mother doesn’t know about the scheme he had to pass off Luke’s bastard as Harwin’s child. Hells, nobody knew about that, not even Luke himself, and Aemond has already promised himself it will stay that way.

It’s only natural that she still resents his husband for what she saw as the alpha seducing him in a moment of weakness, despite how he’s made abundantly clear that he wouldn’t have stayed with Lucerys if he hadn’t wanted to.

“Mother,” he says as delicately as he can. “You must put this hatred of Luke aside. I know the circumstances that brought us together were less than ideal, but we’ve made a life together. I love him, and he loves me. He makes me happy. Our children make me happy. He takes care of me.”

Alicent’s face softens slightly at those words. “I know,” she confesses quietly, “I know, sweetling, and I thank the Seven for that everyday. That you and your siblings were able to make these wonderful lives for yourselves. It’s just- It’s only that…” she sighs frustrated. “Oh, he’s just so infuriating, darling, I can’t imagine how you can stand it.”

And Aemond laughs. “He says much the same about you,” he grins. Smiles come to him easily these days.

Mother scoffs, though not indignantly. “Yes, I imagine he would. But even still- I’m glad you’re happy. I’m glad he makes you happy.” It’s probably about as close to acceptance as Luke will ever get. He’s about to say as much when his Mother keeps speaking. “And as for Rhaenys… Well,” she shrugs. “She’s young. She has time yet to learn how to not let her emotions get the better of her.”

He shakes his head. “She’s too hot-tempered, not to mention rash.”

That assessment makes Alicent smile, oddly enough. “Yes. She reminds me quite a bit of you, actually. You were always so wilful. And so was-“ her voice falters, the smile slipping off her face as a hint of sadness and longing colours her scent before both are viciously dampened.

Aemond does not ask her what’s the matter, nor does he need her to finish her sentence. Rhaenyra is a ghost that lingers over his mother on even the best of days. Sometimes, that makes her happy. Sometimes, it doesn’t.

“I was never as wilful as she is,” he argues. It’s more meant as a distraction than because he actually means it, and as predicted, it makes Alicent laugh.

“Of course not,” she agrees with a knowing look her eyes. “After all, it’s not as if you were constantly sneaking out to the Dragonpit despite me expressly telling you to stay in your chambers.” He huffs in amusement and fake outrage.

They fall into an amicable silence, sipping politely at the tea which has started to go cold. It’s as he’s about to suggest they send for another pot when his mother speaks.

“Darling,” she says carefully. “Has it occurred to you that perhaps Rhaenys has a point?”

“What do you mean?”

“It is rare for kings to do anything without an agenda,” she explains, “And these visits Jacaerys insists upon with Visenya and Rhaegar, they- Well. I would be very surprised if it all amounted to nothing.”

Aemond would be too. The thought has weighed heavily on his mind these past few weeks, and he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t intrigued by it. The Iron Throne had been something Aemond had coveted as a teen, that desire for power, for a chance at real responsibility.

But duty and decorum had always held him back. He was the fourth born child of the late king and an omega at that. The only feasible way he would be allowed to be king were if the rest of his family were dead. And even if that had been a price he’d been willing to pay in regards to his half-sister’s family once upon a time, it was a sacrifice he’d never been willing to make when it came to the rest of them. And now? Well, now he has married into that side of the family and probably given it more heirs than the rest of his siblings combined.

Still, that doesn’t mean it’s easy, knowing how close he was to true power while also knowing he’d never have a chance to wield it. It makes him wonder if it would be kinder to not have the slightest chance. Surely that was preferable.

“I only wish to prepare you,” she continues when he doesn’t speak. “A king’s offer can be a hard thing to refuse.” She sounds so sad, and he burns in anger for the way her life has gone. Alicent had been the perfect wife to Viserys, and it had never been enough. “And most people… Most men don’t.”

Aemond nods instead of saying all of that. There’d be no point; what’s done is done and they simply had to make their peace with that. “I know,” he says quietly. “I’ll keep it in mind. Now, let’s talk of something else.” And so Alicent tells him of her day, and they talk together like they used when the omega was a boy, but Aemond cannot let himself forget the warning his mother gave him.

A king’s offer can be a hard thing to refuse. And most people… Most men don’t.

———

It is late afternoon when Aemond and Visenya enter the royal gardens arm-in-arm. Alicent is looking after the twins at the moment, glad to have some time to spend with her youngest grandchildren.

Visenya had freshened up and changed into a different frock than what she had worn for luncheon with Alicent. Clad in a dress of burning scarlet with black details, she looks every bit the Targaryen princess she has technically never been.

Aemond, for his part, has donned a long dark blue doublet that brushes his knees. It has both the sigils of House Strong and House Targaryen stitched onto the chest and he’s paired it with black wooden leggings and his usual boots. Not exactly the image of the ‘Whore of Harrenhal,’ which is what he’s still known as to this day in some circles. By this point, it’s more amusing than offensive.

“How was your flight?” He asks as they walk to the agreed meeting place. He’d known beyond a doubt that this daughters would have fled to the Dragonpit after the disastrous end to afternoon tea.

His eldest smiles. “Good. I think Rhaenys feels better. Flying with Gaelithox always seems to brighten her mood, and I love any chance to take to the skies with Aegarax.” She falls silent for a few moments before delicately continuing with, “I’m sure she didn’t mean it… What she said before.”

The omega sighs. Of course Visenya would want to reassure him. “I know, sweetling. It’s alright. You don’t have to mitigate between us. I’ll talk with your sister soon.”

The girl nods, yet doesn’t look entirely convinced. But before she can say anything else, they arrive at their destination.

Aemond instantly spots his nephew and… other nephew, who is the aforementioned nephew’s son. Targaryen family dynamics can be confusing. Jace and Rhaegar are standing by a fountain with a stone bench next to it. They seem to be having some kind of argument, with Jace talking tensely to Rhaegar while the boy sulks. The omega is half wondering whether they should come back later and half wondering if they should stay for the show when Jacaerys catches sight of them, and any signs of an argument are vanished.

“Uncle,” he says brightly, and Rhaegar takes notice of them too, hastening to stand up straight from where he’d been slouching on the edge of the fountain. “Niece. How good of you to come. Might I just say you both look lovely today?”

Aemond’s responding smile is a practiced one. “You’re too kind, nephew, truly.”

“I speak only the truth,” Jacaerys tells them. Court life suited the man immensely, and proper decorum came to him with ease. “Was that Aegarax and Gaelithox I noticed earlier in the skies?” The alpha asks Visenya, his tone one of genuine curiosity, though Aemond had no doubt there was some other ploy at play.

His daughter smiles winningly. “Indeed, uncle, Rhaenys and I went for an afternoon flight after tea.” She falls silent for a few moments before asking, “How is Vermax?”

“Very well, thank you for asking. He’s taken to roosting outside the Dragonpit now that winter is over and the weather’s better.”

“How fascinating.”

“And how fares Moonfyre, Rhaegar?” He asks his nephew, who jumps at being addressed. Aemond watches the boy’s throat bob for a moment.

“Fine,” he hurriedly says, and then elaborates after Jacaerys gives him a pointed look. “I mean, he’s fine. Thanks. For asking.”

“I’m glad to hear to it.” He says, taking a look at the young alpha. Aemond’s memories of Laenor Velaryon - the man his sister had been married to, who ran away to Essos with his lover after Rhaenyra’s funeral - are few, but he must admit that Rhaegar bears a striking resemble to him. Though his white hair is short and straight, like Jace’s, and his eyes brown instead of purple, everything else about him clearly came from Baela and her mother’s side of the family. There were no rumours of bastardy when it came to him, real or otherwise.

“Speaking of the moon,” His Grace speaks again when Rhaegar says nothing more, “The gardeners planted a batch of moonblooms here that have recently started to flourish. I’m told you have a keen interest in botany, niece. Perhaps you’d let Rhaegar show you where they’ve been growing.”

The dismissal is clear, and Visenya does not miss it. “I would love that, uncle, assuming you would too, cousin,” the last bit is directed to Rhaegar, who smiles at her. It looks only a little strained.

“Uh, yes. It would- It would be my pleasure.” He offers his arm out and Visenya steps forward to thread her own through, letting him lead her down the path a little.

Jacaerys waits until they’re out of earshot but still within eyesight, before turning to him and waving a hand out. “Would you care to sit, uncle?”

“Certainly,” he replies, sitting down on the stone bench. He waits for Jace to settle onto the other end before he says, “So, are we finally dispensing with the pretence that this is some quality bonding time and nothing more?” Usually when Visenya and Rhaegar walk the gardens together, Jace will take Aemond’s arm and they’ll follow after them at a sedate pace, making idle chitchat about nothing of consequence.

The king laughs. “Never were one to beat around the bush, were you Aemond?”

“I’m not known for my patience.” Quite the opposite, in fact.

Jave sighs, letting the facade fall a little. “You’re right. I have a matter I wish to discuss with you.”

“Yes?”

“About our children.”

Aemond barely stops himself from rolling his eye. “Obviously.”

“I want Rhaegar to marry Visenya,” he says simply. “I’ve watched her over the years and I think she has the potential to be a great queen. She’s diplomatic when most others aren’t, and she’s able to keep a level head in difficult situations. She can charm and flatter and make friends as easily as breathing. She’s kind without being weak, and strong without being cruel. And she has a good heart. I could think of a far worse candidate for the job.”

He hums. “You are aware, of course, that she is still Lucerys’s heir.” For yes, Luke had been adamant that Visenya would remain his successor, despite being a female omega. Aemond had fallen in love with him just a little bit more after that.

Jace smiles. “I’m sure Rhaenys would prove equal to the challenge.”

Aemond had his doubts about that. It’s not that he thinks Rhaenys incapable of it, more that he knew she would hate it. He had once heard her remark how glad she was that she was the second born child. According to her, it meant that Visenya got all the responsibility and she could have all the fun. She is like Luke in that regard; filled with no desire for power or responsibility whatsoever.

Visenya, though… Visenya is like him. Burning with an ambition too big to be able to satisfy. When Rhaenys talked of the fortune of her birth, his eldest said something about their father having the same luck, that if he had been the first born son instead of the second, it would be him who was king.

“You’d still be his heir though,” Rhaenys pointed out. “And then you’d be queen, so you should be thankful that Father was born second.”

“Yes. Thankful.” Visenya agreed, and that was the end of the conversation, but Aemond still remembers the hint of longing he’d heard in her voice. The same longing he’s sure was in his own when he tried to get Aegon to take his role as first born son more seriously, way back before they had both presented.

Like calls to like, as they say, and it’s not difficult to notice that Visenya has always gravitated towards him, just as Rhaenys was drawn to Lucerys. He sees the ambition within her, knows the guilt she feels for having it. Most omega girls were not so fortunate as her, to remain their father’s heir after their presentation, especially when they have plenty of sons to fulfil the role. And yet still, she wants more, and there are those in the realm who would deride her for such a thing, but not Aemond. Never Aemond, who knows only too well what it is to want for things he maybe shouldn’t.

Aemond shakes his head. “Shouldn’t this be something you discuss with Luke?”

Jacaerys looks away from him, his gaze turning to where Rhaegar and Visenya are standing by the recently bloomed flowers. His own gaze remains fixed on his goodbrother’s face and it’s then that he realises, “You have discussed it with him.”

The following silence is only too telling.

The omega’s mind reels. If Jace had talked to Luke about Visenya marrying Rhaegar, why hadn’t he mentioned it to him?

“I didn’t know he hadn’t mentioned it,” Jace says, and it’s only then he realises he said that out loud, “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. He said no.”

That makes him pause. “He said no?”

“Many times. Every time I asked, as a matter of fact,” the man scoffs, shaking his head fondly. “He’s remained annoyingly stubborn about it.”

Why would he say no? Rhaegar perhaps wouldn’t have been Aemond’s first choice of husband for his daughter, but he was hardly the worst. From what he’s seen of the lad, he’s an awkward but well-meaning boy, with an affinity for dragon riding and a good head for commerce. He knows his nephew squired for Ser Erryk before he earned spurs, and was tutored under Tyland Lannister’s hand in his role as Master of Coin.

Yes, Rhaegar’s social skills weren’t the best, and he could greatly benefit from a bit more confidence, but these were minor issues in the grand scheme of things. Which begs the question of why Luke didn’t tell him of his brother’s proposal. But that’s nothing he can focus on now, not with Jace sitting right next to him and Lucerys leagues away in Harrenhal.

He levels his nephew with a cool look. “In that case, Your Grace, why mention it to me at all? If my husband’s denied the match, there’s little point in telling me about it.”

The king gives him a winning smile. “I was hoping you might convince him otherwise.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Me? If you, his brother and his king, has not been able to convince him to agree to this, why do you think I will have any success?”

Jacaerys shrugs, that same easy smile on his face. “Because Luke’s not been able to say no to you a single day in his life. I figure if anyone can get through to him, it’s you.”

And Aemond laughs a little at that. “True,” he concedes, “I can be quite persuasive. And I have some news that will put him in a good mood.” His hand comes up to cup his belly thoughtlessly.

Jace’s eyes follow the movement, and because his nephew is no fool, he immediately catches onto its significance. “Fucking hell, does Luke ever keep his hands off you?” Jace laughs, head shaking in disbelief.

“Not really,” he chuckles but his mirth is short lived, as he thinks back on the Grand Maester Gerardys’s words. “But I suppose he’ll have to now. This… This babe will be the last one, I think.”

The alpha becomes a tad more serious at that. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

“It’s what Gerardys told me,” he admits. “He’s worried. About my health. The twins’s birth was so difficult, it… It took me a lot longer to recover. And… Well, I’m not exactly getting any younger.” He says ruefully.

Part of him is horrified that he’s sharing this with Jace of all people. The Aemond of his youth would have seethed to be giving such vulnerable information to the enemy. But Aemond is not that same spiteful teenager anymore. He’s an adult now, the Lord Consort of Harrenhal, who has a husband, fourteen children, and another on the way. And Jacaerys has not been his enemy for a long time. There are times Aemond might even go so far as to say he’s his friend.

Those times are few and far between, of course.

Jace’s face softens a bit, and he gives him a reassuring smile. “I’m sure you’ll be fine. I mean, you’ve already given birth to fourteen kids. Clearly, the Mother Above favours you.”

He hums then shakes his head. They’ve gone off on a tangent. “That hardly matters right now. What I’m more interested in hearing is why you think I’ll agree to this match if Luke doesn’t. And what does Baela think of it? I can’t imagine that she or Daemon are all that thrilled at the notion.”

The Queen and her father had made no secret of their enduring dislike for the Greens, even after war had been prevented and sufficiently snuffed out. Surely that will be a wrench in the works, given that Visenya is Otto Hightower’s great-granddaughter.

Yet Jace surprises him. He laughs, “Baela doesn’t hate you nearly as much as you think she does. True, she doesn’t like you,” he concedes and Aemond barely stops himself retorting with The feeling’s mutual, “But she likes Visenya. And she recognises that it’s a good match.”

He scoffs. “I find that hard to believe. One would think she’d want Laena to wed Rhaegar.”

The king grimaces slightly. “One would think wrong. Daemon’s all for it, of course, but Baela and I agreed it wasn’t for the best. I love Laena dearly, but she’s hardly fit to be a queen. Not to mention she’d never want to be one. Her current dream in life is to be the first dragon rider pirate.”

Aemond can’t help it; he laughs. “Well, that is certainly a different kind of career choice. But you still haven’t explained why I would agree to wed my eldest daughter to your son.”

Jacaerys smiles again, that same winning smile that the small folk and nobility alike have fallen in love with. “Don’t pretend you haven’t wanted the Iron Throne since the moment you saw it, uncle. You were never like Aegon. You always knew what you wanted, even if you also knew you couldn’t have it.”

Aemond bristles despite himself. “And I’m to offer up my daughter as a proxy for that? So I can live out my boyish fantasy to be king? I’m not that same child anymore, Jace.”

“No. You’re smarter now, more cunning. More willing to get your hands dirty to get what you want.”

“And this is what I want?”

“Yes. I think it is. Even if you try to hide it. I think a part of you has always wanted the throne, that even with everything else you’ve claimed, you still long for it.”

Aemond looks away from the king’s knowing gaze, swallowing hard. But his eye then lands on Visenya, the very topic of discussion. She’s listening intently to whatever Rhaegar’s talking about, who seems to have come out of his shell a little and is wildly gesturing with his hands. The boy’s dressed in Targaryen black and red, just as Visenya is, and for a moment, he sees the image they make together. The future of the House of the Dragon.

Rhaegar’s brow with Jaehaerys’s crown resting upon it. Visenya’s own head showing off the crown of Aegon the Conqueror, for surely his daughter would demand such a thing and Rhaegar would agree. The two of them standing side-by-side as the dragons roared as one.

They look right.

He barely hears it when Jace says, “You need not give me an answer immediately, Aemond. Think on it. Talk to Luke, talk to Visenya, talk to your mother, if you think it would help. But don’t keep me waiting too long. The Small Council is getting antsy at Rhaegar’s lack of betrothal, and would like a match announced sooner rather than later. I’m inclined to agree with them.”

Jacaerys changes the subject to his youngest daughter, Alyssa, and Aemond listens half-heartedly, though it’s probably obvious to anyone that his mind is elsewhere.

He had known for years now that he would never sit the Iron Throne. That any claim he might have had to it had died long ago. He knows that, and he’s accepted it, and for the most part, he’s even happy for it. He’d never of had the life he has now if such a thing came to pass, and that is not worth the price. He loves Lucerys, he loves their children, and their home, and everything that comes with it.

And yet. And yet, he still wants more. He’d never get it. But Visenya could. His oldest child, who he promised he would love and protect with everything he had in him. Visenya, his sweet, ambitious child, who burns with the same longing he does, who wants for more than the world will ever give either of them.

He would never be king.

But his daughter could still be a queen.

———

Aemond and his daughters depart from King’s Landing by the end of the week. They’d been in the Red Keep for longer than intended, and the omega was glad to be going home to his husband and the rest of his children. Vhagar’s massive wings made the flight a short one for him, and Daenerys and Daella - both strapped to his chest - had delighted in it. Visenya and Rhaenys would arrive later than he did, he knew, partly because their dragons were smaller and partly because he knows they’ll be taking a longer route than he.

They both love to fly.

When he lands in the courtyard, it’s to find Luke already waiting for him. He had sent word ahead that they’d be coming, and Luke had been ecstatic. He can see that even from atop Vhagar’s back, the visible happiness on his husband’s face, and the happiness of their children, who wait impatiently for him to land.

Lucerys is quick to take him into his arms the moment his feet touch the ground, mindful of the two babes strapped to his chest. “Gods, I’ve missed you,” he murmurs in his ear, and Aemond sighs quietly.

“I’ve missed you too,” is all he manages to say before their horde of hellions descend. Aelyx is the first step forward, his eldest son who became de-facto leader in the wake of Visenya and Rhaenys not being around. His brown hair has been trimmed recently, and he has a cut on the side of his chin that must have happened during sparring, but other than that, he remains unchanged.

Not like Elaena, who has shot up in the few weeks he’s been away. The girl has also cut her auburn hair short, and is absolutely covered in muck. If he had to guess, that means she’s just been to see her demon of a dragon Vaelexes, who’s been an utter terror from the moment he hatched. Elaena loves him like nothing less.

Terror though he is, he isn’t nearly as spoiled as Syrax, who Aelyx had claimed a number of years ago. Luke’s smile had been frail but real when the two of them came back from Dragonstone after the claiming. Aemond hadn’t been expecting his son to claim his grandmother’s dragon, though perhaps he should have.

Valerion is hot on their heels, the first of their children to take after Lucerys completely, though not the last. Maegelle and Daeryn look the spitting image of his husband, though they both have Aemond’s temperament. Naerys has the same silver hair as him, but Luke’s brown eyes, whereas Alysanne has his purple eyes and the same auburn hair as Elaena and Alicent. Maekar and Aerys are Targaryen through and through, while Laenys is a dark haired, violet eyed beauty.

They swarm around him like bees swarming around a colony, and Aemond laughs at them, fondly exasperated. This exasperation only increases as they start speaking.

“How was your flight, Kēpa?”

“Did you do anything fun, Kēpa?”

“Kēpa! I missed you!”

“Kēpa, can you tell Naerys that I’m the only one who’s allowed to play with my dolls?”

“Are not!”

“Are too!”

“Kēpa, Kēpa! I made this for you!”

“Kēpa, can I play with Daella and Dany? They’re much more fun than Elaena.”

“Hey!”

They’re a bunch of demanding little shits, it must be said, and Aemond wouldn’t trade them for anything.

“Alright, that’s enough,” comes Luke’s reprimanding voice. The children fall silent in an instant. “You can catch up with Kēpa later. For now, you need to be getting to your lessons.”

That’s met with a chorus of groans but their pups dutifully run back to the castle. Lucerys turns to him again and leans in for a chaste kiss. He sighs into it, absentmindedly mourning that it can’t be anything more heated. Later, he tells himself as Lucerys pulls away.

“Hello,” his husband grins, “And hello to you too,” he says to the little girls in his arms, placing a kiss on both their foreheads. They fell asleep just before he caught sight of Harrenhal. “Where are Rhae and Nya?”

“Taking a longer route.” He hesitates but still says, “We need to talk.”

Luke raises an eyebrow at the statement but doesn’t question it, instead leading him inside. The walk to their chambers is simple, and they briefly pause to hand over the girls to a pair of nursemaids.

And then it’s just him and Luke in the chambers they’ve shared for seventeen years. His alpha looks at him with curiosity and so much love, he barely knows what to do with it. “So,” he intones, “What’s this about?”

He’d had a plan. He was first going to tell Lucerys about the babe in his belly, let it lull him into a good mood and then ask about Jace’s proposal. That was the plan, anyway, yet what comes out of his mouth first is, “Jacaerys told me.”

A look of bewilderment comes over his husband’s face. “Told you?” He questions. “Told you what?”

Aemond sighs. “He told me… About his plans. For Rhaegar. For Visenya.”

The look of confusion is banished in an instant and a kind of angry realisation washes over Lucerys.

It makes Aemond angry in turn. “So it’s true.” It’s not a question. “You knew. You knew what he’s been planning.”

Lucerys chews the inside of his cheek, his frame now closed off instead of open and inviting as it had been just moments before. “I knew.”

The omega makes a sound then, a gasping scoff of a laugh. “And I didn’t know about this because?”

“He wasn’t supposed to tell you.”

“Wasn’t-“ Aemond stares. “He wasn’t supposed to tell me? What the fuck does that mean? Why not?”

Silence.

“Were you ever going to tell me? That Jace wants our daughter to be Rhaegar’s queen?”

Lucerys is silent for several long moments until he eventually says, in a tone of voice Aemond doesn’t recognise, “Were ever going to tell me the real reason you came to my chambers all those years ago?”

Aemond feels his blood go cold. “I don’t know what you’re talking-“

“Don’t.” His mouth snaps shut, teeth clacking. “Just… Don’t, Aemond. Don’t pretend I’m crazy. Don’t pretend I’m stupid. I know why you came here that night and it wasn’t so I could make you my mistress.”

His mouth feels dry when he opens it again. “How long have you known?”

Lucerys looks at him with pitying eyes that he make him want to bare his teeth. “Since the morning after. Since you left to clean up and I had a moment alone to think. And I had so much to think about. The way your body wrapped perfectly around mine. Your warmth, still lingering in the bed next to me. Your scent covering everything in the room. Until all I could think about was you.

“But the more I thought, the more I realised you never actually gave me the reason why you came to me. And once I realised that, well,” here, he shrugs, “It became a matter of questioning what your true motive could be. I knew you didn’t want to go back to King’s Landing. I knew you didn’t want a new husband or a new home. And I knew that the only way you could stay at Harrenhal was if you married me - which wouldn’t have been allowed by the Faith - or if you had the previous lord’s child. It all fell into place after that.”

For a moment, Aemond can do nothing. In all the years he’s spent with Lucerys, he has never once thought back to his true intentions that night, how if Luke hadn’t bitten him, that plan is precisely the one he would have enacted. Nor has he ever once thought that Luke would find out about his scheme.

“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asks after a tense silence.

Luke shrugs again. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

Because he couldn’t, at first. Not with Visenya pregnant in his belly and no way of knowing how Luke would react to the news that Aemond had planned to use him. And in truth, that’s always been the reason. Even after all they have been through together - eight years of infamy, nine years of marriage, and raising fourteen beautiful children in between - he still doesn’t know what Luke would do, not for a certainty.

And he didn’t want to hurt him, didn’t want to risk losing him. Because at no point in that harebrained scheme did he think he would fall in love.

Luke’s eyes shine with a tenderness Aemond should be used to but it isn’t. He isn’t sure he could ever get used to his alpha looking at him like that. “We know each other well enough by now to already know those answers.”

Yes. He can see it. Luke didn’t tell him he knew of his scheme because he didn’t want to risk spoiling what they had. Because he had wanted Aemond for so long and he finally had him, and he did not want to do anything that might risk losing him. He understands that. What he doesn’t understand is why Luke didn’t tell him of Jace’s proposal.

The omega grunts. “You still haven’t answered my question. Were you going to tell me?”

Luke sighs in response, moving to sink down into his seat and balance his elbows on his knees. He doesn’t say anything for several moments and Aemond grows impatient.

“Lucerys,” his voice is like the crack of a whip.

He looks up at Aemond with tired eyes. “I don’t know, my love,” his tone is flat. “I don’t know.”

Aemond sighs, frustrated. “Fine,” he concedes, “Forget about that. Forget about wondering if you would have told me or not. Tell me why you didn’t. Why keep it a secret in the first place?”

Luke offers him nothing but silence, and Aemond’s temper frays further. He stares down at his husband with all the menace he can muster. “Tell me,” he insists.

But his alpha shakes his head. “No,” he tells him. “I will not. Let it go, Aemond.”

He scoffs. “So we’re keeping secrets from each other now? Is that how this marriage is to play out?”

“You’re one to talk about keeping secrets.”

“And what the hell is that supposed to mean? Other than the circumstances that brought us together, I have always been honest with you. For seventeen years, we’ve been partners. We’ve lived together, we’ve worked together, we’ve raised our children together, and not once in all that time have I ever been anything less than candid with you. I think I’m owed the same from you.”

“And if it were anything else, I would tell you, but not- Not this, Aemond, please,” he pleads so earnestly that it makes Aemond want to give in. To let Luke have this one secret.

But he doesn’t. “Just tell me,” he insists. “What could possibly be so bad about it that you don’t want me to know?”

Luke makes a noise of frustration, dropping into his seat further, as though he could dismiss the matter by simply ignoring it.

“Luke, for the love of the Seven, just tell me. Why?”

“Because of your mother!” Luke’s temper breaks at long last and he roars. Aemond can only stare in confusion but not fear. Never fear. Not for his husband. “Because of your siblings! Because of you! Because you were-“ he cuts himself off, looking away.

Aemond refuses to allow it, marching over and dropping to his knees. He takes the alpha’s face in his hands, forcing him to look him in the eye. “Because what?” He demands.

Lucerys is mute, staring at him with a conflicted expression. One of his own hands comes up to cup Aemond’s cheek, thumb gently stroking the bottom of the scar. The omega forces himself not to lean into the touch, despite how much he longs to.

“Because what, Luke?” He repeats, gently this time.

“Because it felt like I was selling our daughter off to the highest bidder,” Lucerys explains in weak, quiet voice. “Because that’s what happened to you, and Alicent, and Aegon, and Helaena, and Daeron. All of you forced to marry with no say in the matter. With no power to say no, whereas if me, or Jace, or even Cregan fucking Stark objected, Grandfather would have listened. Hells, he did listen to me and Rhaena when we said we didn’t want to marry, and he listened to me when I rejected all the matches he put forth for me.

“I know how much you resent that, how much you hate that none of you got a say in your life. That you were just expected to do what was good for the family. I know, and I don’t blame you for that. How can I? I’d hate it too. And the idea of doing that to Visenya, to any of our children, I-“ he cuts himself off again.

Aemond waits patiently for him to continue and eventually, he says, “How could I tell you when I knew all that? How could I put you through that again?”

The anger melts away in an instant, replaced by something tender and sweet. He shakes his head. “Oh, you sweet, silly man.” He presses a kiss to Luke’s lips.

Lucerys leans into it, and for a moment, their problems seem to fade.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you,” his husband says against his lips. “I just- I didn’t want to hurt you. I didn’t want to force you to make that choice.”

Aemond shakes his head. “It won’t be us making the choice, my love. It will be Visenya. It’s her life. It should be for her to decide. And the same goes for all our children. We won’t be my father.”

Lucerys laughs tiredly. “You say that like it’s easy. Like we won’t have lords and ladies hounding us for our children’s hands in marriage left, right, and centre.”

“I’m not saying it will be easy. But… We’ll manage. Together.” He takes Luke’s other hand in his own, lifting it up so he can press a kiss to his knuckles. The look the alpha gives him then is nothing short of adoring.

“Everything feels less scary when I’m with you,” Lucerys confesses in a quiet voice, and Aemond melts on the inside.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you?” He teases lightly so he doesn’t have to acknowledge what that statement does to him. “My big, strong alpha,” he adds, a little meanly.

But Lucerys just shakes his head, still looking fond. “You’re the strong one. You always have been. Strong, and vicious, and fearless. And mine.”

Sometimes, Aemond doesn’t know what to do with the pretty words Luke tells him. It’d be easy if he knew they were pretty words and nothing more, but they’re not. Lucerys means them, completely and wholeheartedly.

“Well, let’s hope that strength stays with me then,” he says in a significantly lighter tone. “I’m going to need it in six moons time.” Like when he was with Jace, his hand falls to his stomach, but this time it is intentional.

Luke’s eyes follows the movement, uncomprehending, until they widen in realisation. “You’re with child?”

He nods, a small smile on his face that looks like nothing compared to the joy on Luke’s. “Yes. About three moons along, I-“

He’s cut off by Lucerys leaning forward and showering his face with kisses. “Oh my gods, my love, thank you, thank you,” he starts saying before falling abruptly silent, looking at where Aemond is still kneeling on the floor. “No, wait, you shouldn’t be-“

Faster than he can blink, Luke swaps their positions so it is Aemond sitting in the chair and him kneeling at his feet. He feels a hand covering his own where it still rests on his belly, and Luke’s thumb softly strokes it reverently. “Hello,” he says softly, to something that doesn’t even have ears to hear him with yet. “I’m your father.”

And Aemond really should be used to this by now, what with the fourteen children they already have, but he isn’t, and it chokes him up a little, this wonderful mess of a man he loves with everything he has.

But the sweet moment is interrupted by the furious slam of heeled boots on the floors outside and Aemond hears Visenya calling out, “Rhae, don’t,” before Rhaenys is bursting through their chamber doors without so much as a by your leave. Luke is on his feet in an instant, staring at their second eldest with bewildered eyes.

“What-“ he starts but Rhaenys interrupts him.

“Is it true?” The girl demands, still dressed in her riding leathers and breathing heavily. A moment later, Visenya skids into the room also dressed in her riding gear and with a guilty expression on her face.

“I’m sorry-“ she tries to say but once again, Rhaenys interrupts.

“Is it true?” She repeats, her scent angry and wild.

“Is what true?” Luke asks her, his tone none too pleased.

Rhaenys takes no notice of it. “Nya says she heard you talking to Uncle Jace about a betrothal.” She speaks directly to Aemond. “Has it finally happened, then? Are you really going to barter her away like some prized goat?”

“Don’t talk to your Kēpa like that, young lady,” Lucerys warns.

It is Aemond who interrupts this time. “It’s been discussed,” he says, when Rhaenys opens her mouth to argue further. “But nothing’s been agreed, and it won’t be agreed until we speak with Visenya about it.”

Rhaenys scoffs. “Are you actually going to speak? Or are you just going to do tell her what to do?”

“Rhaenys-“

“Because I won’t let you! I won’t let you just-“

He’s out of his seat and striding towards her before she can finish the sentence. He puts his arms around her and that’s enough to get her to fall silent.

“Rhaenys,” Aemond says as gently as he can. “We’re not selling her off. We’re not selling any of you off. What’s put this ridiculous notion in your head?”

“But that’s-“ she chokes and there are tears in her violet eyes now, “That’s what happens. That’s what happens to omegas, that’s what happened to you.”

“Oh sweetheart,” he breathes, and the dam breaks, and Rhaenys is weeping in his arms like she hasn’t done since she was a child. He soothes her as best as he can. Luke comes over to join them at one point, and Visenya.

His daughter looks embarrassed by the time her tears have ceased, wiping at her tear stained cheeks. “I didn’t mean to-“ she tries to say, “I’m sorry-“

“There’s nothing to be sorry about.” He reassures her. “Just- Just know that we will never do that to you.”

“But you’re doing it to Nya.” Her voice is so quiet, so defeated.

“No, they’re not, Rhaenys.” Nya steps forward. “I promise, they’re not.”

“We’re not doing that to any of you,” Lucerys states firmly. “Whatever oath I have to swear to get you to believe that, I will.”

“We want you to be happy, darling,” Aemond tells her. “We want you all to have some say in your life. More than we did.” Because even Luke didn’t get much of a say in becoming Lord of Harrenhal. He was just expected to do his duty to his family. Like Aemond. Like Alicent.

Their children deserve better.

“But then-“ Rhaenys turns to Visenya, confusion painted on her face. “Why did you go along with it, if they didn’t tell you to?”

Visenya’s smile becomes a little strained. “Because I wanted to,” she explains. “I want to marry Rhaegar. He’s- He’s sweet, Rhaenys, and he’s kind to me, and I think I could love him, given time. And… He’ll be king, one day. Which means I would be his queen.”

“Do you want to be queen?” Luke sounds surprised.

“I,” Visenya hesitates, looking guilty once again. Aemond nods at her, smiling encouragingly, and her gaze hardens to steel. “Yes. I do. I think… I think I would be good at it. And- I want it, Father. I want it like I’ve wanted nothing else.”

Lucerys says nothing, just stares at her like she’s a familiar stranger he can’t quite place.

“Father?” Visenya asks, her voice unsure. “Is that- Is that okay?”

If you fuck this up, I’ll kill you, Aemond thinks to himself.

“Of course it’s okay, love,” Lucerys speaks at long last, and the tension dissipates. “So long as it’s what you really want.”

“It is.” Visenya smiles truly this time, his brave, daring little girl.

“But,” Rhaenys starts, “Then that means I’ll have to be Lady of Harrenhal.”

“You don’t have to be,” Luke reassures her. “If that’s not what you want. We can think of something. Is there something else you’d rather do?”

Rhaenys glances to Visenya, and Aemond watches the two of them have a silent conversation before the girl says in a quiet voice, “I’d like to go travelling. If I could. I don’t think I’m cut out for court life or ruling or,” she swallows, “Any of that. I’d like to see Uncle Aegon again, and Aunt Helaena. And maybe even go to Pentos.”

Aemond looks at her softly. “Sounds like you already have it planned out.”

“Maybe a little.” She smiles guiltily, then asks, “Will you really let me go?”

“Well,” he says slowly. “Not right away, and probably not for a few years yet. We’ll need to have a better plan in place of where you’re going and when, and some safeguards to make sure you stay protected, but… Yes. If that’s what you truly want, then yes.”

He’s not expecting her to crush him and Lucerys into a hug, but he’s not angry about it either. Far from it. Lucerys wiggles an arm free to drag Visenya into it, and the stress of the past few hours melt away. There’s much to be done - he wants to catch up with the rest of his children, with Alys, with the servants - and much to be said - to Visenya, to Rhaenys, to Luke - but for now, he’s content to let it wait.

There’s nowhere he’s needed more than right here, right now.

———

“Hello Caelor,” Lucerys whispers six months later to his youngest child, held securely in his arms. Aemond is resting after the strenuous labour, his silver hair sweaty and mussed, and the eyepatch and sapphire removed. He’s so out of it that he’s drooling a little on the pillows, and the soft breathy noises he makes as he sleeps are nothing short of adorable.

Luke’s never seen a prettier omega in all his life, and he never will.

The baby - a boy, auburn haired, and brown eyed - whimpers a little, and his eyes open, looking for a face that isn’t Luke’s.

It makes the alpha chuckle. “Are you looking for Kēpa? He’s having a rest right now. You took a lot out of him, little one. If you were anyone else, I’d be worried he’d never forgive you for it. But he will. He’s forgiven me for a lot over the years.”

Caelor settles a little at the sound of his voice, and Lucerys settles into his chair a little more in response. “It’s quite the story,” he says softly, “A story fit for ballads. Well, I think so, at least. Your Kēpa thinks I’m being sickeningly sweet when I say that. But he smiles anyway.”

The babe fusses again, and Luke rocks him expertly. “Yes, it’s a very good story. Perhaps I’ll tell it to you one day.” He chuckles to himself. “With a few details left out, of course.”