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Chapter Text

The thing was, despite his permanently cool stoic visage, Aegon’s brother was the easiest person to read. 

Aemond was just an open book, no matter how hard he tried to hide it. He could keep his lips in a thin line, face like marble, but the twitches of the muscles on his face were telling. The way his eye would brighten too, glinting as if he were a dog presented with a slab of meat. Even the way he stood, feet suddenly turning in a different direction, everything else forgotten, just so he could gaze upon the object of his desire.

Who, to Aegon’s confusion, was their nephew, Lucerys.

Lucerys Velaryon, often called Luke by those close to him, wasn’t the person Aegon expected to catch his brother’s attention in this way. Certainly, their paths would’ve always crossed considering that Luke half-blinded Aemond, and well, Aegon’s brother wasn’t one to forgo his grudges, but he didn’t expect it to be like this.

The last time Aegon had seen Luke—or any of his nephews, for that matter—was on the night Aemond lost his eye. Luke had been a small child then, with curly brown hair and brown eyes that did not match his mother’s or his supposed father’s. He had been terrified, screaming so loudly when Mother demanded his eye.

Admittedly, Aegon had a habit of forgetting Luke’s name when they were children. He and Luke weren’t close in age, there was nothing for them to bond about. Except for the times when Aegon tormented his younger brother with pranks. Luke was young and playful and easy to influence. Aegon was the oldest so the little kid did everything he asked him to.

In Aegon’s head, Luke was no one but a nameless face. His nephew was almost akin to a servant that he could command to his wishes.

Though that night of the funeral, it was the first time that Aegon had truly noticed his nephew. Although it was an unfair fight, Aemond clearly outnumbered, Aegon couldn’t fathom how this small child could do something horrifying to his brother. 

Aemond was a twat, yes, but to go through something like that? Aegon knew he would have never survived if he was in his brother’s place. The fact that Luke even walked away unscathed, protected yet again by the King, Aegon and Aemond’s father—Aegon had never forgotten his nephew ever since.

The words of the Queen, his mother, had rung like warning bells in his head. He was supposed to protect his siblings from his bastard nephews. That monster already did irreversible damage to your brother at a young age. Just think about what those wretched bastards would do when they grow up and Rhaenyra ascends the throne.

So Aegon was very much flabbergasted—discombobulated, if you would—when the revelation hit him. The revelation being, Aemond harboring intense feelings toward Luke. Intense feelings that were more than hatred like he was supposed to.

Head still throbbing from too much wine, Aegon could only watch as his brother paced back and forth in his chamber. Aemond had just come from training with Ser Cole, and when he broke into Aegon’s room, he was mumbling under his breath, restless as a lunatic man.

The sight made his vision spin further so he grabbed the first thing he could reach, which was a pillow, and threw it in the direction of his brother, which missed by a whole yard. It did the job though as Aemond halted and glared at him.

“What?” his brother hissed.

“You’re making my headache worse,” Aegon said with a groan. “Why are you here?”

“Mother sent me to fetch you.”

“Okay,” Aegon said slowly. “But what’s with that face? Who slighted you this time?”

Aemond pursed his lips and grumbled something under his breath.

“What?” Aegon asked. “I can’t fucking hear you!”

“I said,” Aemond gritted his teeth, “our nephews are here.”

Aegon blinked. “Of course, they are. Didn’t Mother tell us they were coming? For the succession or whatever. Why are you so worked up then?”

Silence hung in the air. 

Then Aemond mumbled, “Lucerys talked to me.”

Now, this caught Aegon’s full attention. He grinned lazily like a cat, leaning forward so he could hear and see his brother better. “And? Did he threaten to take your other eye as well? Did you two fight?”

His brother looked at him as if he had grown two heads. “No. He… he apologized actually.”

A boring turn of events. Aegon rolled his eyes and leaned back against his seat. “That’s lame, brother. You’ve been training every day, you could’ve at least put your sword fighting skills to use.”

Aemond frowned at him. “I’m not as stupid as you are, brother. If we so much as lay a finger on any of our nephew’s hair, our half-sister will have our hands. The bastard already took my eye, I’m not going to risk other parts of me.”

Shrugging, Aegon said, “Or you’re just being a craven.”

This struck a nerve in his brother as his eye twitched, lips pressing into a line. “You’re an idiot,” was Aemond’s only response.

Aegon chuckled. His brother was never good at riposting. Clearly, Aemond spent too much time with his books and sword training like the bore that he was and never had a normal, fun conversation with a friend. Did his brother even have any friends aside from his dragon and their sister?

Sure, Aemond could beat him in a fist fight but inside the walls of the Red Keep, it was all about verbal warfare. Too bad for his brother, Aegon had mastered this and so he came victorious every time.

“So,” Aegon grinned, “what do our Strong nephews look like now? Are they as big as Breakbones? Can you even take them in a fight?” He wiggled his eyebrows just for good measure.

To his surprise, Aemond snorted. “The gods do not favor our bastard nephews, it seemed. They may have their father’s coloring but they’re nothing like him at all.”

“Oh?” Aegon said, eyebrows raising. That was indeed quite intriguing. When they were children, it was undoubted that their two nephews resembled Harwin Strong. From their eyes and hair alone then to their nose as well. It was as if Harwin alone created and birthed them himself.

“Jace is tall. Definitely taller than you.” Aegon rolled his eyes at that. It wasn’t his fault he got their mother’s height. Aemond then continued with a slight upturn of his lips. “But not as tall as me, of course. He still looks like the annoying bastard that he is. I don’t know what kind of lies our half-sister has been telling him but he walks around like he owns the place. Like he’s above everyone.”

Aegon barked a laugh, tilting his head back. One could assume that that was a consequence of being the supposed heir to the throne. Aegon wouldn’t even lie that he, too, acted like that sometimes. Well, maybe most of the time.

Having silver-gold hair and lilac eyes had its advantages, and Aegon wouldn’t definitely put them to waste. Wines were not getting any cheaper these days.

“And Luke?” he asked.

Then there it was. A faint blush spread on his brother’s otherwise impassive face as though he had finished a glass of wine and was now drunk. As though he was a maiden being asked to dance.

Aegon’s mouth was agape, brow contorting in confusion. What the fuck?

Quickly, Aemond cleared his throat and faced in the other direction. Aegon could still see the redness creeping up his brother's neck and ears, however. “Surprisingly, the little monster did not take after his father. He’s small still with pinkish cheeks and doe eyes that made him look as if he was fascinated and scared of things at the same time. His hair has more curls to it than his brother’s, and his voice is meek. Soft.”

“What the fuck,” Aegon said out loud this time. He didn’t miss the way his brother’s shoulders tensed. “I asked you what our nephew looked like, not to recite one of those romantic novels you are interested in.”

“Shut up,” Aemond grunted.

Confused he may be but Aegon wasn’t going to deny that this information is remarkable. A perfect material to hold over his brother’s head. His grin stretched wider. “So, our nephew, huh?”

Aemond turned, glaring at him with pursed lips. His face was still as red as beet juice. “I will cut your tongue out.”

“Oh, that won’t work. You don’t scare me, brother,” Aegon said with a snort. “Don’t fret, I don’t judge you. I’m surprised, is all.”

When Aemond didn’t speak, he continued.

“But it finally makes sense. I mean, I always found it odd how you didn’t enjoy that one time I brought you to a brothel—even going home early, how ungrateful—but,” he paused just to emphasize his statement, “I understand it now. It turns out, I was giving you the wrong whores—”

Before he could finish his musing, however, Aemond crossed the room at the speed of lightning and choked him. Aegon flailed in his hold, punching his brother’s arm which didn’t seem to affect Aemond at all. Fuck, why didn’t he take sword training seriously again?

Finally, Aemond let him go. Aegon sputtered, gasping for air. “Are you fucking insane?” he rasped out. “Can’t even take a little jest, for fuck’s sake.”

Aemond clicked his tongue. “Don’t speak about… this. Ever again.”

“Fine, fine.” Aegon waved his hands dismissively. “I won’t talk about your—”

“Aegon,” Aemond warned.

With that, Aegon raised his hands in surrender but a smug smile still pulled the corners of his lips. Aemond shook his head, lips pressed in a tight line. 

“Just get into a set of clean clothes and try not to smell like Flea Bottom,” Aemond said. “Mother is waiting for us.”

When Aemond was out of hearing distance, Aegon shook his head and laughed again. He still couldn’t understand how Luke, out of all people, could elicit that kind of reaction from Aemond. But it was very much entertaining, and Aegon couldn’t wait to see more of it. 

He only hoped he wouldn’t get choked to death again.

+ + +

Aegon hated politicking more than anything. Even more than his hangovers every morning. Headaches were manageable even if it was such a nuisance; he could just grab another wine and there, problem solved. 

Politicking, on the other hand, did not have any viable solutions. He didn’t stand a chance when it came to his mother and his grandfather. One way or another, Aegon would be forced to attend the dreadful proceedings in the throne room and listen to the endless drawl of some lord complaining about his wife. Or whatever it was that they actually talk about. Aegon never listened.

Though this, this was different. Aegon watched, holding back his smirk, as his half-sister’s family filed into the room. He immediately looked for his nephews.

As Breakbone’s sons, Aegon really had expected his nephews to be just like him: Hairy, burly, with arms twice the size of Aegon’s neck, and a gruff voice that rumbled the castle walls. 

There was a bit of resemblance in Jace, whom Aegon spotted first, but only by a little. His nephew’s arms were not as lanky as before but there was still some boyishness to his features. He grew tall but he probably wouldn’t reach his father’s stature.

Aemond’s account of their nephew’s bearing was all but without an error; Jace oozed smugness in his everybody as he strutted. He was indeed taller than Aegon, which wasn’t really a feat in itself but never mind that. What was important was that he also donned the most ridiculous haircut, and how Aemond managed to miss that, he had no idea. His brother was probably busy ogling something else. Or someone else.

Like Luke, for example.

Aegon’s eyebrows rose. Well, perhaps Aemond reciting his romantic novel wasn’t quite far off. Though it was still over the top in Aegon’s opinion. His brother could’ve just said that Luke was nearly as pretty as Rhaenyra and Aegon would’ve understood.

His nephew was almost as tall as he was. Although his face had started to show some sharp lines, jaw protruding, his cheeks remained rotund, tainted red like the most succulent wine. 

Lucerys indeed only resembled his father through the color of his curls and eyes. He remained a wimp; already a man grown and yet he still clung to Rhaenyra as he did that night he took Aemond’s eye. In the glowy light of the throne room, he looked almost like a damsel in distress with the way he bit his lip, eyes quivering. 

Aegon knew better though. No damsel could do what Luke did to his brother; his nephew may be pretty but he was a savage bastard all the same.

As Vaemond Velaryon gave his statements, Aegon couldn’t fight the smirk that inched its way on his lips. It was all too amusing, watching his half-sister and her family shift uncomfortably to every word that Vaemond spoke. 

The truth lingered in the air, and Vaemond was the only one brave enough, or perhaps foolish as well, to say them out loud. From what Aegon had learned that night Aemond lost his eye, speaking the truth could have its detrimental consequences.

He saw Luke looking in their direction. He didn’t need to turn around to see if Aemond was looking back at him. Whatever this shit was, it seemed like it wasn’t one-sided after all.

At the last moment, Luke’s gaze flickered toward him. Aegon gave him a smirk, and Luke took a deep breath, putting his attention back on the man wanting to disinherit him.

When it was Rhaenyra’s turn to present her counterarguments—Luke couldn’t even defend himself to save his life, how surprising—their father, the King, came in to save the day when he couldn’t even bother with the other matters of the realm. 

Aegon wanted to scoff. What did he even expect? Rhaenyra and her brood could never do anything wrong in the eyes of the King. He remembered it all too well when their father questioned them about calling Rhaenyra’s sons bastards when it was the truth. Never mind that Aemond basically threw him onto a maw of a dragon when he wasn’t part of it, the point still stood. 

Their father would always pick Rhaenyra and her sons over his other children even if they fucking bled out in front of him.

Rhaenys, their father’s cousin, also stepped into the attention and announced the betrothal of Rhaenyra’s sons to Daemon’s daughters, further affirming Luke’s claim to Driftmark. Aegon could all but feel the rage simmering behind him in the form of one Aemond Targaryen. He fought the urge to turn around and give his brother a mocking smile.

Vaemond’s bravery now turned into foolishness as he screamed out the words that they all knew. Before Aegon’s chuckle could even die down, Vaemond’s face was sliced into half by Daemon, announcing that he could keep his tongue.

Aegon flinched, his eyes unfortunately fixed on the mutilated body and the blood pooling around it. He knew about his uncle’s reputation. He had heard the whispers of both admiration and fear in Flea Bottom; the contempt and revulsion in his mother and grandfather’s voices whenever they mentioned him.

But to see the chaos for himself, Aegon felt like he was a child again, scared of the unseen things in the dark.

He looked at his nephew’s face where the horror was so palpable Aegon could taste it. Lucerys Velaryon, once again, wreaked havoc and got himself out unscathed. Aegon was almost convinced that his nephew was a demon of some sort.

Later that day, the King requested everyone in his family to dine together. Aegon could already feel the frustration in his veins building up. He hadn’t had a single cup of wine the entire day, and he was told to moderate his drinking during dinner. He was going to lose his mind.

Distraction came beautifully when he ended up sitting beside one of his nephews. Admittedly, it would’ve been better if it was Luke but Jace would suffice too. He and Jace had a little bond when they were younger as the firstborn sons of their mothers. One look at his nephew’s face told Aegon that he wasn’t very happy about the seating arrangement, but he was too polite and obedient to voice that out.

What a snob. Aegon took the opportunity with a hidden grin.

Riling up Jace was perhaps one of the easiest things to do. He was even worse than Aemond. A few suggestive comments about him and his betrothed and he had Jace seething, abruptly standing up. When Aemond stood up as well, vexation still obvious in the twitch of his eye, Jace turned to give his uncles a toast instead.

Aegon bit his tongue so he wouldn’t laugh.

Not really having the appetite, Aegon resorted to just taking small sips of wine while the rest of his family ate. Mother glanced at him with a watchful eye and his fingers itched to command the servants for another flagon when the one on their side of the table had seen its bottom.

He leaned back in his seat as he focused his gaze on Luke instead.

His nephew sat at the end of the table beside his betrothed. Despite the reassurance given by the King earlier, Luke still looked uncomfortable, shifting in his seat, cheeks blossoming redder with every sip of wine he took. It probably didn’t help that Aemond sat across from him at the other end of the table, watching him and his betrothed with an intense gaze that he didn’t even bother to hide.

This could be interesting, Aegon thought. 

It was a shame that everyone was occupied in their small talk to notice that his brother and his nephew were eye-fucking in front of the whole family. Aegon couldn’t keep his chuckle, catching Luke’s attention, who quickly looked away with his cheeks flushing.

Luke didn’t look at him for the rest of the dinner, turning Aegon’s night into a bore once more. This night would be the death of him, Aegon was certain. 

When Aegon thought he was finally going mad from the lack of wine in his tongue and the endless boring chatter around him, he heard a soft chuckle. His gaze immediately landed at the end of the table again, where Luke was trying to keep his laughter in, staring ahead of him.

It didn’t take Aegon a long time to guess who his nephew was chuckling at—there was really no one else. The next thing he knew, the table shook, cutlery and bowls clattering, and his brother was standing, holding a cup of wine.

There was a flash of anger in his brother’s eye. Aegon fought off the smirk on his face. He could always count on Aemond and his temperament to make things exciting.

As Aemond said his tribute, Aegon couldn’t help but raise his cup too, grinning widely. Jace was already on his feet, seething with his fists clenched so tightly Aegon thought he was going to explode. His nephew was predictable; he had never liked being called a Strong boy since they were children despite knowing the truth. He was sanctimonious like that.

To Aegon’s surprise, Luke only held defiance in his eyes as he looked at Aemond. He almost felt like a different person. Gone was the boy afraid of any adversary, hiding behind his mother’s skirts, and now there was this man staring down at his foe as if he was on the high ground.

It was a glimpse of that savage bastard who took Aemond’s eye.

This was exactly the kind of dinner Aegon liked. He wanted mayhem. He wanted a fight, and he wanted it bloody like the ones in the fighting pits in Flea Bottom. 

“I dare you to say that again,” Jace said through gritted teeth.

“Why? ‘Twas only a compliment,” Aemond said. “Do you not think yourself strong?”

Aegon grinned. He knew it was coming—everyone probably knew it was coming—so he turned to Luke, who stood in haste, as there was a sweet familiar sound of fist meeting flesh. There was only anger in the eyes of his bastard of a nephew as he moved toward the fight.

He remembered his mother’s words somehow. You must protect your brother. Aegon would really rather sit back and watch, but he couldn’t help getting into the chaos himself. His body moved on its own.

Both anger and rapture crackled in Aegon’s chest as he met Luke halfway. He grabbed his nephew’s shoulders and slammed him face-first onto the table.

Everyone scrambled, shouting for them to stop.

Aegon could hear none of it, his gaze transfixed on the body writhing beneath him. He leaned down and whispered into his ear.

“Nice try, Lord Strong.”

A mixture of gasp and whimper escaped from Luke’s throat, and it was the most delectable thing Aegon had tasted in the entirety of the dinner. He wanted more.

Feeling a gaze burning through him, Aegon turned his head. Aemond was staring at him as if he had heard them; he was staring at Luke, still squirming and flushing in the neck. There was a glint of darkness in his brother’s eye, simmering like tar. Though Jace was still there and Aemond tore his gaze away reluctantly to push their nephew to the floor.

Someone shoved Aegon away, and he only realized the heat in his limbs when everything suddenly felt cold as he staggered back. Baela was ready to pounce on him, her fist ready, but Rhaena intervened before she could. 

Luke, already recovering, was about to turn to him, face beautifully contorted into a scowl. There’s the savage bastard. Aegon readied himself. He wanted to push that boy again. He wanted to hear that sound again. He wanted to feel him writhe like a helpless damsel beneath him again.

The guards were fast, however. Aegon’s fingers were so close to brushing against his nephew’s neck, his crimson-flushed skin, when the guards pulled Luke and Jace back. 

Aegon clicked his tongue in annoyance, grabbing the nearest wine cup and downed it. The others had already intervened. The fun died quickly as it had started. He took the moment to grab a flagon of wine and slip away, not caring about what was about to transpire next. He was certain it would only be awfully boring.

His footsteps echoed in the halls as he traversed back to where his bedchamber was, gulping his beloved wine. When he heard the hurried, heavy steps behind him, he slowed to a halt.

Aemond looked like he was ready to murder someone.

“Brother,” Aegon said with a grin. “Excellent speech, by the way. Thanks to you, that dinner was better than I imagined.”

His brother halted before him, face seemingly emotionless, but Aegon could see the wrath in his eye, and he frowned as to why it was directed at him.

“Did something happen when I left?” Aegon asked.

Aemond’s eye twitched. “Don’t meddle in my business.”

Aegon snorted, taken aback. Whether they liked it or not, Aemond’s business was his business as well. An offense to his brother was an offense to him and to their family as well. Mother made sure Aegon had always remembered that. Though it seemed like Aemond was forgetting his lessons.

“I fucking helped you, you ungrateful twat. What, you think Luke would just stand back while you beat up his brother? If our nephew was anything like that, you wouldn’t have lost an eye.”

“Don’t,” Aemond growled.

Laughter rang in the hallway before Aegon could even fight it. The situation was just too incredulous not to be laughed at. “C’mon, brother. Certainly, you are not jealous because I got to put my hands on your Strong boy?”

His brother looked like he was about to choke him again but he restrained himself, realizing that despite being alone, they were still in public. Aemond had already embarrassed their mother, he was not going to make it worse. Aegon sneered. 

“Stay away from him,” Aemond said.

Brow furrowed, Aegon scoffed. “If you wanted him so badly for yourself, you should’ve picked a fight with him and not his brother.”

Aemond only grunted and looked away. He didn’t say anything else as he went to his own bedchamber, slamming the doors with a heavy thud.

With a shrug, Aegon went to his room. 

It was still strange to him how Aemond could have both a sense of protectiveness and murder intent toward their nephew. 

But when Luke’s whimper plagued Aegon’s mind the entire night, his pliant body still tangible against his fingertips, perhaps he was beginning to understand why. The image of the ferocity in Luke’s delightful face burned behind his eyes. Everything swirled in Aegon’s head as he shouted for a servant to bring him more wine.

One thing was always clear to Aegon though, and it was the fact that Aemond was a fucking cunt. If his brother wanted to be difficult then Aegon wouldn’t back down; he would fight fire with fire. If there was one more thing about his brother, it was that Aemond was ostentatiously virtuous—he would never act on his wants because he was the good son their mother had always cherished. 

Good thing was, Aegon had always been bad at being good. He laughed to himself as a plan started to form in his head.

Chapter Text

Aegon, with his new buzzing hangover, learned the next morning from his mother’s agitated ranting that his nephews would stay in King’s Landing for an entire moon. He tried not to smile, keeping up his appearance of sobriety, as he broke his fast with his mother and his siblings for the first time in a long while.

Helaena hummed a tuneless song as Mother worried over things that Aegon truly did not care about. When Aegon’s gaze landed on his brother, he found that Aemond was already looking at him, and he looked like he was killing Aegon in his head.

If only his head didn’t feel like it was splitting in two, Aegon would’ve laughed at his brother’s face. But sleep did not come to him easily last night and he lost count of how many cups he had emptied; the image of a certain brown-haired boy was still clear in his clouded mind.

He wished they served Arbor red in the mornings instead of this piss-tasting honeyed milk. Aegon fought the urge to throw his cup’s contents behind him.

Mother sighed deeply. Aegon immediately tensed. He didn’t know which of them that sigh was directed at but there was no such thing as being too ready. Gingerly, he waited for his mother to speak.

“As per your father’s request, you three would be encouraged to break your fast alongside Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children,” Mother said tightly.

Aegon blinked, his mother’s words still not coming around yet. Helaena only clapped giddily, and so it was Aemond who spoke for the three of them.

“What for?” his brother asked with a dissatisfied grunt. Though underneath all that, there was an unmistakable mirth in his eye.

“He wanted to… mend the bonds between you children,” Mother said, lips pursing at the mention of non-existing bonds.

Aegon snorted before he knew it. “So he would have us eat together? Didn’t he learn a thing or two about what transpired last night?”

Mother looked at him for the first time that morning. His body flinched in reflex, waiting for his mother’s chiding but none came. Instead, a look of agreement passed over her face. It was strange.

“I’ve said that as well. But your father is very adamant about it.”

“I love it,” Helaena said, finally looking up from her cream cake with a meek smile. “It’s nice having our cousins and our nephews around.”

The three of them looked at Helaena in curious silence. Aegon’s sister seemed pretty content living in isolation. She always shied away whenever others talked to her, which was already a rare occurrence in itself. There weren’t a lot of people who were interested to befriend her despite her being a princess. Her icky insect pets and her strange ramblings weren’t exactly popular in social gatherings.

Aegon knew for a fact that she was doing that on purpose—scaring other people away and having her own version of freedom. There was no way she didn’t. Admittedly, he envied her sometimes. Perhaps he could use an insect or two from her collection to evade the maddening lords that kept engaging him in politics. Only if he wasn’t scared of those disgusting creatures himself.

Smiling tightly, Mother said, “Good. That’s good.”

Helaena went back to her cake with a beam.

“Well, that’s it then.” Mother stood up, wringing her hands restlessly. It was a familiar quirk of hers whenever Rhaenyra and her bastard children were involved. There was a pinched look that morphed Mother’s face as she looked at Aegon and his siblings. “I trust that you children will be on your best behavior from now on. I don’t want any further embarrassments like last night.”

She pinned her gaze on Aegon because despite being relatively on his good behavior during dinner, he was always the one at fault in his mother’s eyes. It didn’t matter if it was Aemond who started the whole rift, Mother would always look at him first with distaste and disapproval as if he was the sole reason why the whole night went wrong. 

Well, Aegon might have said some things to Jace, and he did slam Luke onto the table, but those were nothing compared to what Aemond said. 

“Aegon,” she said. A little warning, a little threat. Then she turned to his brother. The intensity in her eyes diminished but it was still there all the same. “Aemond.”

Aegon looked at his brother and raised an eyebrow mockingly. He couldn’t help his grin. It fucking felt good finally seeing his brother under their mother’s scrutinizing gaze. Aemond grunted and turned away, his fists clenched tightly. 

They continued to eat in silence with Helaena’s soft humming in the background as Mother left.

+ + +

The Red Keep was vastly different when the King’s heir and her family were present. The halls weren’t so dark and dreary, chatter kept the silence off from the walls, and the food being served was leagues better too. It was like there was a celebration and everyone was livelier somehow.

Aegon couldn’t say that he didn’t like it. 

The servants served wine more often, and finally, Aegon could drink in peace without Mother and Grandfather’s watchful eyes. They were too preoccupied with matters more important than guarding him. Like keeping an eye on Rhaenyra and Daemon being back at court for instance.

It was another consequence of this whole ordeal that Aegon was grateful for. With his beloved daughter back, the King’s health improved miraculously. He sat on the Iron Throne whenever he could, attending to the affairs of the realm, with his daughter and his brother working alongside him. 

This meant no more politics for Aegon. At least, for now.

Freedom, at long last.

Perhaps the only thing that he was disappointed in the otherwise great situation was the lack of his nephews’ presence. Their arranged daily morning meal was still yet to happen because none of his nephews or cousins dared to show up. It was starting to make Helaena’s mood sullen.

Aegon knew they were still around, hiding somewhere in the castle. Sometimes he could hear Baela and Rhaena’s laughter, and he did catch a glimpse of Jace’s ridiculous head near the kitchens one afternoon, though Aegon had still yet to interact with any of them.

Truthfully, it was a surprise that his half-sister didn’t whisk away her children yet. Aegon all but remembered how Rhaenyra had fled away to hide her family in Dragonstone when whispers of her children’s bastardy became too loud. He had expected that his half-sister would do the same now, but perhaps she finally realized that her children were not some helpless babes to fend for anymore.

They never were, he thought as Luke’s dark, feral eyes flashed in his mind.

Aegon quickly dismissed the vision away.

They can hide all they want, he thought. One way or another, Aegon would still see plenty of them. 

A day came when diplomats from Volantis visited, wanting to discuss plans and alliances regarding the resurging Triarchy. While everyone was more than stirred to welcome their visitors from another land, Aegon immediately saw the opportunity to slip away from the Red Keep.

It was a time for more serious politics. The entire royal household was bustling. Even Ser Erryk was too busy to keep an eye on him.

Changing into more discrete, inconspicuous clothes, Aegon went to the far side of the castle where he knew no one but cobwebs reside. There was a secret doorway in that area which Aegon had accidentally found when he became too drunk one night and thought it was the door to his bedchamber.

Needless to say, he woke up on an eerie staircase with bruises all over his body. It was not one of his fondest memories, but he did find a passageway that led right outside the castle. It was a win in his book.

Aegon walked briskly, turned into a corner, and slammed into someone.

He blinked and saw Luke staring at him with his wide, dark eyes and parted lips. Aegon found himself grinning.

“Nephew! It feels like it’s been so long. I haven’t seen you since that night.”

Luke’s lips pressed into a thin line at the reminder of their family feast. Nonetheless, he gave Aegon a polite nod. “Hello, uncle,” was his only response.

Without Aemond in sight, it seemed that Luke was back to his good behavior. It irked Aegon somewhat, but if Luke was going to be like that then he might as well behave too. Having no witnesses around during a fight could be to his disadvantage; people would foolishly believe everything his bastard nephew would say. 

Aegon took a minute to study his nephew. He was wearing clothes in Targaryen colors as he and his brothers always did. The color of their house was a display of power and recognition, though, on Aegon’s nephews, it seemed more like a reminder. A reminder that despite their appearances, they, too, were the blood of the dragon.

He looked over to where Luke had come from. It was the corridor leading to nowhere; the secret door at the end still remained shut. Aegon raised an eyebrow at his nephew.

“What are you doing here? You’re a long way from the royal chambers.”

Luke’s cheeks flushed. “I was just… I wanted to explore the castle,” he mumbled. “It’s been years since I was last here in King’s Landing, after all.”

“Well, nephew, it’s not safe wandering alone, even if it’s in the Red Keep. You may never know what’s waiting for you in these corridors,” Aegon said, a lazy smile stretching his lips. “And if you wanted to explore King’s Landing, you should have informed me. I’m a great guide.”

For a moment, Luke only stared at him. There was wariness in his eyes, brow pinched into a slight frown as if he couldn’t decipher what he was seeing or hearing. The two of them had never been close to engage in brotherly activities together, and after that fight during their feast, Luke was more than right to be cautious. 

Despite that, Aegon could still see the interest in his nephew’s eyes. Luke seemed to have grown into a curious boy—he wouldn’t have wandered alone if he wasn’t—so being kept up in their chambers must have been torture.

He almost felt pity for his nephew. Aegon knew that feeling of restlessness well. After all, it was the reason why he was in this empty hallway now.

“I’m serious, nephew. I know the ins and outs of this place,” Aegon said when Luke didn’t say anything. “And I must say, the best parts of the city are not within this castle. If I were your guide, I could bring you somewhere not so… gloomy and empty.”

“Really?” Luke asked. Completely gone was the apprehension, replaced by curiosity with the arch of his eyebrow. “And where will you take me, uncle?”

Aegon grinned, white teeth flashing. He leaned forward, dark eyes following his movement. Luke didn’t step away and Aegon felt all the more eager. “I could take you to Flea Bottom,” he whispered even though there weren't any ears in the walls in this part of the Keep. “Have you been to a playhouse? The mummers here are excellent. Their portrayal of our family is quite entertaining—I particularly love their portrayal of your mother.”

Luke scowled at that. “Isn’t that treacherous? To make jest of the royal family like that?”

“Oh, no. Not at all.” Aegon waved a hand, snorting. “Yes, the portrayals may be exaggerated and all, but to be honest, they’re only doing what the people have already been saying. These plays are essentially just the voices of the smallfolk, and the King can’t really snuff that out, can he? Unless my father wants to be called Maegor the Second, which I doubt he would.”

His nephew blinked as he mulled it over. Aegon could see Luke’s curiosity glowing brighter, and he wanted to poke at it and stoke it further. 

“Have they portrayed you?” Luke asked, quite hesitant.

“You bet!” he said, beaming. “Honestly, they could do a lot better with a more good-looking actor but it’s an alright portrayal. You know what, nephew? Stay long enough here in King’s Landing and maybe they’ll portray you too.”

“I don’t think I would like that,” Luke said with a scrunch of his nose.

Of course, his nephew wouldn’t like it. Between the two of them and the vast empty corridors, they knew what would be a mummer’s portrayal of one of the heir’s dark-haired sons. 

A supposed boy of full Valyrian heritage but lacked the appearance for it? Aegon could almost hear the word “bastard” being jeered in a playhouse.

Though they would probably only get to portray Luke in partial. Aside from his paternal origins, they would probably also get his mousy personality right—it was the blatant impression everyone had of him. A meek boy, a man grown, still clinging to his mother for protection.

One thing that Aegon was certain of, however, was that they would never be able to tell the tales of his nephew’s feral eyes. Of the untamed hands that took the eye of the fearsome second-born prince.

That part of Luke was for their family alone.

“What a shame,” Aegon said. The dismay in his voice was not feigned. “Well then. Do you have any other places you want to see, nephew?”

Luke chewed on his lip before answering. “Well. I do want to go to Flea Bottom at least once. But not to watch a play.”

“A different activity then? Let’s see… I could take you to a tavern but I doubt you could hold your alcohol well.”

Hilariously enough, Luke seemed to be offended by that. “I can hold my alcohol just fine, uncle.”

“Hm. Really? Have you ever had any alcohol besides wine?” Luke’s silence was enough of an answer. He probably didn’t even know that other beverages existed outside of wine. “See? Thought so, nephew.”

While it would be entertaining, Aegon had no plans to have his head get sliced by Dark Sister if they find that their precious Lucerys was smashed in a tavern in Flea Bottom out of all places. Getting his nephew drunk wouldn’t be worth it for that.

Aegon needed something better.

He closed their distance with another step. Luke still didn’t make a move to pull away. Aegon saw a cobweb on his dark curls and picked it off. His nephew remained still, his deep breathing reverberating through the cold walls.

“Or I could take you somewhere more entertaining. Street of Silk, perhaps?” 

To his genuine surprise, Luke didn’t take offense to the suggestion. He had anticipated his nephew to be scandalized, he was even waiting for a slap, but there was only a glint of interest in Luke’s eyes.

Aegon felt the heat spread in his chest, purring and crackling like a hearth. “Would you like that, Luke? Learn the arts of seduction and debauchery?”

Luke’s breath hitched, the sound of it cleaving the air between them with a deafening sing. It made Aegon shiver, the cold hallways seemingly enclosing them. 

He wanted more. He wanted fire.

“Maybe you’ve already learned it, and you’ll teach the whores yourself instead. After all, your mother is the Whore of Dragonstone, and—”

A loud smack rang. Aegon felt numb for a moment, before the sting bloomed, finding his head suddenly tilted sideways. He huffed in surprised disbelief. When he turned his head, a small part of him expected his mother’s dark eyes to stare at him.

Dark eyes, they were, but not his mother’s. These had too much fire in them, almost like a dragon’s wrath. Too unfortunate his nephew didn’t look like one.

He licked his lip, chuckling. A fiery urge burned within him, his fingers itching to grab his nephew and slam him against the wall. 

But he smothered it all down, inhaling deeply. Luke could break out of that good behavior but Aegon was going to uphold it. He couldn’t have his nephew running off and tattling about how his uncle had hurt him unprovoked like the liar he was. The day was supposed to be a good one, and Aegon was going to keep it at that.

“Did I strike a nerve there, nephew?”

“Don’t talk about my mother like that,” Luke spat, his hands balled into fists by his side.

“I’m only saying what the others had already said.”

Though, unlike the others, unlike Vaemond Velaryon, Aegon wasn’t stupid enough to speak where unwanted ears could hear him. He would speak plainly, that much he would, but only when warranted in the proper place and at the proper time. 

Mayhem was only entertaining if he wasn’t in the center of it.

Luke took a deep breath, eyes closing. When he opened them again, the fire inside had already dimmed. Aegon rolled his eyes in annoyance.

His fun was short-lived yet again.

“Say whatever lies you wish, uncle,” Luke said, tilting his chin up. “Maybe one day, you’d outdo the court fool himself.”

Before Aegon could even blink, Luke walked past him and went away, his hurried footsteps resonating with heavy clicks. 

Aegon couldn’t help but laugh. Lucerys never failed to amuse and anger him at the same time. He was a rare breed like that.

Shaking his head, Aegon went to his secret passageway and made it out of the castle. He went straight to his first destination, his throat parched for something much stronger than wine.

Jeyne regarded him with a curious look when he all but demanded a bottle of black tar rum. The day was still young, the tavern quite scarce of its customers, so Aegon seated himself at the table nearest to the bar.

“Ugh. Must be a bloody terrible day in those ugly castle walls if you’re drinking this piss at this hour.”

“Every day is a terrible day in those castle walls,” Aegon said, pouring himself a drink before downing his cup. 

The barmaid wasn’t exaggerating when she had described this drink as piss. Aegon had seldomly ordered it, preferring the sweet taste of spiced rum instead, but he needed something that’d make him feel the buzz quickly. He needed to get drunk into oblivion.

“Huh,” she said with a chuckle, wiping a tankard. “Can’t say the same here. Ever since the princess arrived, businesses have been booming.”

First, his father’s health had improved, and now the capital’s economy was thriving. The Realm’s Delight indeed. Aegon’s half-sister must have been a miracle worker of some sort.

He snorted. “Yeah, yeah, and the next thing you know, you’re getting younger.”

Jeyne slammed the tankard down and barked a laugh. “I’m glad your sense of humor hasn’t waned, little prince. ‘Ya know, some people thought you had finally drunk yourself to death when you failed to show up these days.”

Aegon poured himself another cup. He didn’t know some people would even care to remember if he was missing. “Did you think me dead as well?”

“Nah. You’ve survived sleeping in the darkest alleys of Flea Bottom, it would take much more than a wee alcohol to kill ‘ya. You’re like a weed, ‘ya know?”

Truthfully, Aegon didn’t know if he should take that as a compliment; it seemed like one but the way she said her words didn't sound like it. Shrugging, he drank another cup.

“So…” Jeyne leaned over the bar. “How was it?”

“How was what?”

“Having the rest of your family around.”

Aegon paused, narrowing his eyes at the barmaid. While Jeyne may be the nicest barmaid in the city—giving him free drinks and letting him sleep out on the back when he couldn’t go home—she was just as slimy as everyone in Flea Bottom. 

“You are not getting a single gossip from me,” he said.

“It’s not gossip to have a little chat with your friend!” Jeyne’s wide grin showed off her chipped teeth. Aegon doubted that Jeyne would be considered a friend. If anything, the woman was just someone who tolerated him for being a loyal customer.

“Besides,” Jeyne continued, “you didn’t seem to mind when you told me about your git of a grandfather the last time you were here.”

Feeling his throat dry, Aegon took another gulp of his rum. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t worry, little prince. Your tales are safe with me.” The barmaid watched him carefully, and Aegon drank three more cups consecutively. “The tavern’s almost empty right now. ‘Ya could speak freely.”

Perhaps the alcohol finally was getting to him, the bottle already halfway empty, because the next thing Aegon knew, his tongue was moving. “It’s… nice, I suppose.”

Jeyne’s eyebrows perked up. “Nice? That’s a new one. You have described your family as bores, twats, gits, morons, but never nice.”

“Well, the arrival of my half-sister and her family has given me my long-awaited peace,” Aegon said and hiccuped. 

“Ah. You mean you have more time for your revelry then.”

Aegon raised his cup toward her. “You understand me so well.”

The barmaid laughed. She took another bottle of rum and replaced the empty one on his table. She seemed in a generous mood today. “Tell me about the princes,” Jeyne said when she got back to the bar.

“What princes?”

“The princess’ sons. Plain-looking, those ones, aren’t they?”

Right. His bastard nephews. “You’ve seen them?”

Jeyne shrugged. “Nah. But word gets around.”

“They’re fun,” Aegon drawled after a time.

Blinking in genuine surprise, Jeyne said, “Nice, then now fun? The world must be upside down, little prince.”

“They’re quick to temper and jump head-on to a fight,” he said with a shrug. 

“Fight? I thought you didn’t participate in those. Preferring to sit back and watch instead. Verbal warfare and all that.”

Was there anything he didn’t tell this woman? Damned his loose tongue when he got alcohol in his blood.

“You’re not wrong,” Aegon said with a point of a finger. “But my nephews are much worse than I am! They can’t fight properly at all! Come to think of it, they remind me of the children in the pits. They definitely lack the technique but there’s so much fire in them.”

“Doesn’t that make them dangerous then? Wild and unpredictable.”

Aegon thought of fiery dark eyes that had been glinting not too long ago and of the sting that had spread in his cheek. 

He thought of the cobweb in those dark locks. He thought of his flushed cheeks and parted lips.

“Oh. They are indeed dangerous,” he uttered. “Wild beasts in the castle. But I guess I’ll just have to tame them.”

“I see now,” said Jeyne after a while, nodding. “Having them around brings havoc, which you love.” 

Aegon gave her a wide grin, hiccuping. “It’s been so boring in the castle but their presence makes everything… unboring.”

“Hm. Sounds like you’re playing with fire, little prince. Best be careful now.”

He could only snort. It didn’t matter if he was playing with fire. He was a dragon, and that sort of thing was only natural for him.

Fire, he thought as he remembered the sound of a breath hitching. Aegon wanted—needed—more.

The time passed swiftly in the tavern, but Aegon couldn’t remember much of it. Everything went in flashes in his head like a series of dreams that he had no control over.

A bard came and Aegon listened to him sing tales about the war on Stepstones. 

Then there was a drunk man, crying about his broken heart. The other customers had fooled him into buying everyone drinks, and Aegon went along with it.

A fight broke out and Aegon cheered on the sides. Unfortunately, most of them were kicked out of the establishment after that.

He remembered stumbling in the dark streets, making his way to a familiar lavish establishment. The madame regarded him with a slight curl of her lips, but she recognized and welcomed him nonetheless.

When he was taken to a private room, Aegon’s head was flooded with unwanted thoughts. His fingers were itching for something that he couldn’t name. 

The madame presented him with different whores, varying in colors and sizes, and Aegon’s answer came fast. He chose the slight brunette with wide eyes.

He had her on her belly, her ass in the air. Her dark curls were in a tight grip on his fingers as he slid his cock into the wetness of her warmth. He exhaled a shaky breath, his blood singing in his veins.

She was moaning loudly but Aegon could hear none of it. Instead, the whimpers he heard were deeper and quieter. The whore writhing under him had longer limbs, hips canting to meet his thrusts.

When she looked back at him, blazing dark eyes met his gaze. Aegon came with a shuddering groan, her cunt squeezing his length in a vice grip, and the image of those eyes burned into the back of his eyelids.

Chapter Text

Aegon woke up with a scream, ice-cold water stinging his body. He scrambled to his feet, his clothes drenched and heavy.

He rubbed his eyes, heaving, and saw none other than Aemond standing before him. He could only groan, the faintest light of the dawn burning his eyes, his temples throbbing like it was going to explode.

“What now?” he asked through gritted teeth.

There was a gratuitous smirk on his brother’s face. “Mother sent me to fetch you. Again.”

His legs felt wobbly so Aegon leaned on the nearest wall he could reach out to. The ground seemed to sway beneath his feet, the clattering of the early morning market too loud for his ears. Everything felt too much, his body shuddering in sensitivity.

Nausea came like a wave. Aegon bent over and wretched. He could hear Aemond chuckling at his demise, low and mocking, as he emptied his stomach by his feet. Wiping his mouth, he turned to glare at his brother.

“What a surprise, brother.” He laughed hoarsely. He felt better now with his stomach empty, but the throbbing in his head was still present. Wincing, he leaned back again onto the wall. “You have graced Flea Bottom with your presence again! And you’re alone too!”

Aemond pursed his lips. “I’m not alone.”

Blinking, Aegon looked past his brother, his gaze settling at the mouth of the alley. There stood Ser Criston in all his Kingsguard glory, with his jaw taught and steel eyes, holding a bucket in his hands. Aegon couldn’t help but click his tongue in annoyance.

Great. The two most boring men in Westeros had allied to drag him back home. The fact that these two were his mother’s most loyal henchmen didn’t quite help in his favor. Aegon’s chance to run away plummeted to none. 

“Fine.” He sighed, running a hand over his face. “What is it this time?”

“Just come along,” Aemond said with a grunt.

“Listen, if it’s another—”

“Are you coming or am I going to have Ser Criston fetch another bucket?” 

Aegon’s eyes twitched, jaws grinding against each other. A smug smile formed on Ser Criston’s face—the fucker had the gall to enjoy a prince’s humiliation. Rage cleared Aegon’s mind. He wanted to punch the knight, but then again, Aegon wasn’t a fool enough to pick an unwinnable battle.

With his silence, Aemond hummed in satisfaction, grinning. “Now, let us go.”

If only the high and mighty Ser Criston wasn’t present, Aegon would’ve tackled his brother to the ground. Unlike a fight with the Kingsguard, Aegon would somewhat have a chance of landing a hit on his brother. It didn’t matter if it would likely end up in Aegon having bruises and cuts—he was more than used to that—he only wanted to tear off the haughty look on Aemond’s face.

Sighing begrudgingly, Aegon let the two twats lead him back to the Keep. They made him walk in front, not letting him out of their one-and-a-half pairs of eyesight.

It almost looked like a walk of shame except for the fact that Aegon didn’t feel a single drop of shame in his body. He had been in this situation too many times to care; none of the smallfolk even spared them a glance despite Aegon’s lack of disguise.

Sometime in the night, Aegon had lost his cloak. He tried to remember where he left it but his memories of yesterday were nothing but a blank sheet. It didn’t matter. Whatever may have transpired during his adventures, Aegon knew he had fun, and that was the only important thing.

Once inside the castle, Aegon felt suddenly cold, his nausea and headache coming back in like a punch in the gut. The hallways were empty still, free of the chatters from lingering nobles and servants. Aegon wondered why his mother had requested him at this early hour of the day.

As the looming doors to his bedchambers came into view, Aegon prepared himself for a routine that he already knew. His fists balled by his sides, exhaling a shaky breath. He could hear Aemond snickering behind him.

Ser Criston opened the doors, and his mother’s resentful face greeted him. Her eyes were red-rimmed, lips in a slight pout, quivering in anger. She charged at him, hand raised; Aegon waited for the pain.

It didn’t come. Mother came to a sudden halt as if she had remembered something. Slowly, shaking with reluctance, she lowered her hand. She gestured for Ser Criston to leave and the dutiful knight did as he was commanded.

Unfortunately, Aemond stayed behind.

“When will you stop embarrassing me like this, Aegon?” Mother spat. Aegon had heard all of this before. “Especially on a day like this!”

That one, he hadn’t heard.

Brow furrowed, Aegon asked, “What is it today?”

Mother looked like she was going to raise her hand again, but her self-control was better this morning. She gave him another look of spite instead, her slight frame trembling. “You imbecile. Your nephews and your cousins have finally decided to show up and you are to break your fast with them.”

Of course, his half-sister’s brood would show up at the most inconvenient time. Aegon had been behaving like a decent son for days, waiting for their morning meal, but the bastards were always absent. Now they dared to appear just when Aegon was finally having his time, tasting his freedom. It almost felt deliberate.

“Why now?” he asked.

“How should I know what’s going on with Rhaenyra's children?” his mother said. She sighed, her shoulders slumping. Aemond was by her side in an instant, a comforting hand on her shoulder. His mother smiled at his brother.

Aegon could taste the bile on the back of his throat, the pounding in his head getting worse.

His mother sniffed and looked at him once more, lips pressed into a tight line. “I’ve already asked the servants to prepare a bath for you. Certainly, you’d have the shame not to smell like a privy for this, don’t you?”

Not waiting for another word from his mouth, Mother turned on her heels and left the room. Aemond stayed a little longer just to huff in satisfaction, pressing the knife deeper.

Once his brother finally left and Aegon was alone, he took a deep breath to steady himself. 

I don’t care, he told himself. 

After telling the servants to replace the warm water in his bath with a cold one, Aegon took his sweet time cleaning himself. He dunked his head in, the cold soothing the ache in his temples. More servants helped him dress in green garments, and his fingers longed to grab another cup of wine. 

It was only mere hours ago when Aegon felt like he was on top of the world, but now the world tilted, and he was back in the deepest pits once more.

Ser Erryk was waiting for him outside his chambers. Although the Kingsguard’s face was impassive, Aegon knew that he had been a victim of the Queen’s chiding moments prior. Aegon couldn’t find it in himself to feel bad. 

Silently, Ser Erryk led him to the room where their family supper was held. Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony of it all. He entered the room, his steps slowing down as he took in the sight before him.

The room was empty save for his brother and his nephew. Aemond was at one side of the table, his back facing Aegon, while Luke directly sat across him. They were staring at each other as if their eyes alone could carry the silent conversation they were having.

Aegon’s eyes narrowed, the corners of his lips stretching to a grin. There was that familiar fire in Luke’s eyes, though this time, it seemed to be more vivid; as though he was doing all vile things imaginable to Aemond in his head.

He couldn’t see his brother’s face but he knew Aemond was staring just as intensely as their nephew, if not more. Aemond’s fist was on the table, clenching and unclenching, as their silent war stretched on.

It was a surprise that the two hadn’t maimed or killed each other yet. His brother and his nephew certainly hadn’t held back with their pounces when other people were around, but now that they were alone, they seemed to be as still as the dragon statues at the castle gates. They only stared at each other like moving an inch would break their spell.

Though perhaps it wasn’t a surprise. After all, Luke was akin to a wounded animal; he only dared to move when he was cornered. The thing was, Aemond was bound by his duty as an obedient prince. He wouldn’t make a move, especially not after the disappointment in their mother’s eyes; he probably wouldn’t even know what to do if he could. He’d only resign to glaring at Luke, hoping that it would be enough replacement for the unsaid words in his tongue.

The situation was almost painfully pitiful. Almost, because Aegon couldn’t feel an ounce of pity toward his brother. He couldn’t help the chuckle that rumbled in his throat.

Luke’s gaze fleeted to him, eyes widening. Aemond tensed, and the silence seemed louder than ever.

Aegon walked across the room. He hummed to himself as he pulled out the chair beside Luke. Aemond watched him with his single purple eye, twitching in annoyance, as he sat down. Luke only shifted in his seat.

It was difficult not to grin. Aegon’s plan was forming piece by piece.

Bread, cheese, and cakes had already been laid out on the table. He grabbed a small wedge of cheese to munch on. He put his arm around the back of Luke’s chair. His nephew didn’t seem to mind, only watching him warily. Across the table, Aemond kept glaring at him, lips curled in distaste.

“What a good morning, is it?” Aegon said, nibbling his cheese. 

Luke blinked, a crease forming on his brow. Their last conversation did not end well, but Aegon knew how to let bygones be bygones. Aegon had slammed him onto a table; Luke had slapped him—they were even now. 

Though his nephew seemed the type to easily not forget the past, nodding hesitantly. Nonetheless, he was too polite not to give a response. “Yes. I suppose it is a good morning, uncle.”

Aegon grinned, leaning toward his nephew. “Did you have a fun time exploring the castle without me?”

In his peripheral vision, Aemond’s head snapped toward them, eye as wide as a plate. Luke didn’t seem to notice it, looking at Aegon with unimpressive eyes.

“Yes, I did,” he said with a purse on his lips. “I managed to do well without a guide.”

The bark of laughter that Aegon let out echoed in the chamber. “What did you even see? More cobwebs and empty hallways?” 

Luke rolled his eyes.

He leaned closer and whispered so Aemond wouldn’t hear it. His words would get a better reaction from Aemond if he said them out loud, but for reasons unknown, he wanted his conversation with Luke yesterday to be just something between them. “You should have come with me. I had fun last night.”

“I don’t have an interest in drowning myself in wine—gods, I can still smell it in your breath, uncle,” Luke muttered, scrunching up his nose.

Aegon’s lips quirked up at the corners. “It was rum, not wine.”

“They’re just the same,” Luke mumbled, cheeks turning red.

They definitely weren’t. If they were, Aegon would remember what the fuck he did last night. He grabbed another wedge of cheese and took a bite, chuckling at the sight of his flushed nephew. 

“Perhaps I should bring you to a tavern, after all,” Aegon mused. “So you can learn the difference between luxurious beverages.”

Luke snorted. “I doubt a drink in Flea Bottom can be considered luxurious.”

“Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it, nephew.” 

“I don’t think I ever will, uncle.”

“Your loss.”

His nephew shook his head with a sigh, though there was a slight pull at the corner of his lips; the sliver of glint in his eyes as though he was considering it. The shake of his curls caught Aegon’s gaze, and he remembered the cobweb that clung to it—the way those soft strands felt between his fingers.

So he reached out and trapped a few strands between his finger and thumb. He pulled it gently, watching as the curls stretched out before letting go, and it all sprung back with a bounce. 

To his surprise, Luke didn’t react. It was as if someone touching his hair was a normal occurrence—that or he didn’t feel it. Aegon pulled another strand. Luke only watched him with curious eyes.

Then a slam shook the table, plates rattling just like they did that night during their dinner. Luke jumped in his seat, arms tensing by his side. Aegon leaned back and faced his brother.

Aemond’s snickers and huffs from earlier had vanished; his face was harder than any stone. His single eye, however, was bubbling like melted fire, oozing with contempt that Aegon had never seen before. Crimson colored his ears, his jaws clenched so tightly they twitched. Aemond looked like he was one poke away from keeling over.

Aegon chuckled, holding Aemond’s fiery gaze. His little brother was as predictable as ever. A man who couldn’t handle himself—emotions and desires spilling over.

Luke’s eyes fleeted between the two of them with caution, the crackling fire from the braziers being the only sound in the room. The cheek under Aemond’s scar spasmed. Aegon didn’t look away, his smile widening. 

Oh, how the world could tilt so quickly.

The doors opened, prompting Aegon to tear his gaze away.

Jace entered, followed by the rest of Rhaenyra’s brood. Helaena was with them, chatting with Daemon’s daughters. Aegon’s sister had always been a morning person, but he had never seen her so giddy with other people before. 

“Is everything alright?” Jace asked as he approached the table, eyeing Aemond warily, who was just taking a seat.

Luke cleared his throat and smiled. “Yeah. Everything’s fine. What took you so long?”

“We had to help Helaena. Her spiders got out of the glass box.” Jace’s gaze then landed on Aegon, and he doubled back. His eyes moved between Aegon and Luke a few times, blinking in surprise, mouth gaping like a fish. 

It was rather comical.

“Luke…” Jace started, voice calm.

“It’s alright,” Luke said, wearing another smile on his face that almost convinced Aegon. “You should all take a seat now. We—We’re famished.”

Jace looked like he was about to protest, eyes narrowing at Aegon, but Joffrey also complained about his hunger, so he relented. Luke’s sigh sounded as relieved as he looked.

Aegon poured himself a drink—it was definitely a watered-down wine, but not even that could ruin his mood at the moment—and hid his grin behind his cup.

The girls sat down across the table, with Helaena sitting next to Aemond while Rhaena and Baela sat on the other end. Jace went to the other side of Luke, which made little Joffrey take the unwanted seat next to Aegon. The youngest bastard shifted his chair as far as possible. Aegon shrugged. He couldn't care less about him, but he was smart for being cautious.

“Good morrow to all of you,” Jace said, still on his feet. He took a deep breath, his face morphing into that familiar puffed-up look he always had when he thought himself princely. “Uncles, aunt, I know we did not start on the right foot a few nights ago which I deeply regret. I would admit that we may be at fault as well for what transpired, and for that, I apologize.”

Aegon put his elbows on the table and covered his mouth to stifle his laughter. Jace didn’t see him, but Baela did and squinted at him. Remembering how Baela was all but ready to punch him that night, Aegon cleared his throat and focused on Jace’s words instead. 

“But today, we are gathered here in this room once more,” Jace continued with firmer conviction. Aegon wondered how much time his nephew practiced his little speech. “And I hope that this time, as we break our fast together, will bring us closer than the last time we were here. Let us enjoy this morning. Let us celebrate the reunion of our family.”

Helaena clapped her hands cheerily, and Baela nodded at Jace, mouthing an affirmation. The rest of them were quiet as the servants brought in their meals.

Once more food had been served, things weren’t as awkward as Aegon thought they would be. They were all focused on eating, some were having hushed conversations at the side, but everyone mostly ate in silence.

It was peaceful.

Or it was until Luke asked for the flagon of honeyed milk. The one near him had already been emptied by Helaena while the other one was near Aegon.

Aegon reached for the flagon at the same time as Aemond did. They both halted, their hands hanging in the air. Aegon raised an eyebrow at his brother, who gave him a menacing glare.

Someone cleared their throat, and Aegon realized the lack of noise in the room. He looked around and found that everyone was staring at them. While his brother turned as red as a beet, Aegon’s lips pulled into a smirk.

Aemond snatched the flagon and poured himself honeyed milk despite hating the drink since they were children. He put it back on the table with greater force than usual, a slight curl on his lips. Aegon grabbed the flagon, chuckling, and poured the content into Luke’s cup.

“Oh. Thank you, uncle,” Luke said softly. There was a tinge of redness in his cheeks as he took a sip.

“You’re welcome, nephew,” Aegon said, smiling.

Jace watched them with narrow eyes while Aemond continued to glare. Aegon ignored both of them as the whole table went back to finishing their meals.

When Aemond gingerly took a sip of his honeyed milk, face contorting into disgust, Aegon burst into hysterical laughter. Beside him, Luke hid his giggle behind the back of his hand. Aemond stood up abruptly, chair scraping against the floor with a screech. 

“Brother, are you okay?” Helaena asked, putting a comforting hand on his arm.

“Yes,” Aemond said curtly. “Apologies but I must go now. I still have sword training to do with Ser Criston.”

His brother’s daily training wouldn’t start until midday, Aegon knew that for a fact. Jace perked up at the mention of it, placing his fork down.

“Speaking of training,” Jace said, still not dropping his diplomatic voice. “Since we’re going to stay here for a long time, and we need to train still—especially little Joff—my brothers and I are thinking about joining you, uncle. Of course, if that’s alright with you.”

Joffrey beamed at the mention of his name. The happiness didn’t reflect on Luke’s face though, his features pinched into clear displeasure. Aegon remembered the last time his nephews trained on castle grounds—he remembered the fight. He remembered how Harwin Strong was sent away; how his nephews lost their true father to the Stranger days after it.

When Aemond didn’t answer right away, Jace continued. “Perhaps Uncle Aegon would like to join us too? Just like the old times.”

Aemond didn’t even try to hide his frown. Aegon grinned. “Oh, I would be delighted, nephew. I say we should spar against each other again!”

“That’s a great idea!” Jace agreed. 

Joffrey jumped in his seat joyously. The young boy would only probably spar against strawmen but that didn’t quell his excitement. Luke watched the exchange in silence, bottom lip caught between his teeth.

“What do you say, Uncle Aemond? All of us training again on the morrow?” Jace asked.

As the children of the heir to the throne, Aegon's nephews—bastard blood or not—could do whatever they wanted within the castle walls. They could run around as they see fit, let alone train as they were supposed to. Though it was sensible of Jace to ask Aemond for permission first.

“Of course, Jace. We will train just like the old times.” Despite addressing Jace, Aemond was staring at Luke instead. Another silent conversation fleeted through them.

Jace glanced at the two of them briefly, gaze staying longer at Luke. Then he nodded at Aemond, smiling tightly. “Thank you, uncle.”

With one last look at the table, Aemond turned and left the room. Aegon sipped his drink, unable to hide his grin.

It had been a long time since Aegon himself last trained with his brother and Ser Criston. With Aegon’s mother and his grandfather looming behind his shoulder, Aegon had started to spend more of his time in the court than in the courtyard. Aegon wasn’t quite happy about it—which was telling since he wasn’t particularly fond of sword fighting, finding it too rigorous for his liking. 

Though spending his time mindlessly swinging a sword was way better than enduring the endless drawls in the court.

Frankly, if someone told Aegon he would be holding a sword again and training with his family several days ago, he would’ve run and hide in the darkest alleys of King’s Landing. But then, things had happened, and there was no way Aegon would waste an opportunity like that. 

His brother and his nephews with swords? That was begging for a disaster to come. 

Aegon’s headache was almost gone. He had never looked forward to a training session this much. 

+ + +

After the rather amusing morning meal with his nephews, Aegon went straight back to his bedchamber to rest, easing the pulsing pain in his head away. Which, to his dismay, was abruptly cut when the doors to his room were slammed open. 

He stirred in his bed as he opened his eyes to the sight of his brother. Aegon groaned, letting his head fall back to his soft pillows.

“What is it now, you fucking twat?” 

Aemond remained silent, but his hurried footsteps as he paced back and forth were too loud for Aegon. It almost felt like that morning when Rhaenyra and her sons arrived in the Keep.

Sensing that his brother wouldn’t answer any time soon, Aegon sat up with a sigh, legs dangling at the edge of his bed. The ache in his head was no longer there but it might as well come back with the way his brother wouldn’t stop moving.

Aegon didn’t have to guess why his brother was in his chamber, acting in a frenzy yet again. Though it was a bit of a surprise that his brother was here at all, given that Aegon all butl pissed him off earlier.

Well, perhaps he shouldn’t be surprised. After all, Aemond Targaryen had no other friends to talk to, and the only one who knew about his odd fixation on their nephew was Aegon. He was desperate, and there was nowhere for him to go.

“Shouldn’t you be at training? What did Luke do now?” Aegon asked because even though Aemond was an annoying git, Aegon was nothing but a good listener to his brother’s woes.

The mention of their nephew’s name finally prompted Aemond to stop. Aemond turned to him with a scowl.

“You,” he hissed, pointing a finger. “I told you not to speak about it.”

“But I never spoke about it?” Aegon was so confused that his answer came out like a question.

His brother glared at him, growling lowly like a dog. “You were talking to him. You were doing… things on purpose.”

Aegon chortled. “What things?”

“You know what!” Aemond said through gritted teeth.

“Gods, Aemond. You really are a bigger pitiful idiot than I thought you were.” Aegon sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose.

He was indeed doing things on purpose, Aegon wasn’t going to deny that. Riling up his brother was fun, and talking to Luke even moreso. Aemond deserved it too after the shit he pulled during the early hours of the morning—the bucket in Ser Criston’s hands, the snickers, and the huffs. 

It wasn’t Aegon’s fault that his brother couldn't handle himself. Aemond’s impulsiveness alone earlier all but announced to the whole table that he was cunt-struck for his nephew.

“I told you to stay away from him,” Aemond said.

Blood rushed in Aegon’s veins. He shouldn’t have issues at the thought of staying away from Luke, but his fingers itched somehow, his lips pursing in displeasure. 

“Luke is not your property. I’m just trying to be a nice uncle here.”

Aemond snorted. “The word nice is nowhere found in your vocabulary. I know what you’re doing, brother.”

“And what is that exactly?” Aegon cocked an eyebrow.

“You’re using Luke to get back at me.”

It wasn’t a question. Just a mere statement—an indisputable fact. 

Aegon let the smirk creep its way to his lips as he sang. “Oh, brother. Why would I even do that?” 

“Because you,” Aemond stepped forward, pointing a shaky finger, “revel in tormenting me.”

And because you were being a schmuck, Aegon added in his head. His brother knew it in himself, but he was too prideful to say it out loud.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Aegon said instead with a shrug.

Aemond’s one eye narrowed at him as he clicked his tongue. “This is my last warning, brother. Stay away from Luke.”

Shaking his head, Aegon rolled his eyes. “You’re not convincing anyone here, Aemond. I don’t know what fantasies are playing in your head but Luke isn’t yours to keep.”

“We’ll see,” Aemond said with a huff.

“Oh, please don’t abduct our nephew.” His brother glared at him. Aegon raised his hands in a shrug. “What? I’m not putting it past you to do such a thing. You’ve been strangely obsessed with Luke.”

“I’m not going to abduct him, you fool.”

“I’m just saying…”

“Just shut your mouth, brother.”

It was more or less another victory for Aegon.

When Aemond finally left with a series of grunts and huffs, Aegon couldn’t go back to sleep. The day wasn’t even done yet and it already felt like so much had occurred. There was nothing more he wanted than to sneak out of the castle grounds, but his mother certainly wouldn’t be happy if Aegon was found again in Flea Bottom the next day.

Aegon asked a servant for wine. The one brought to him was watered-down, just like the ones served earlier. When asked, the servant told him that it was an order by the Queen. 

Even if he threatened to sack the servant, his words as a prince couldn’t overpower his mother’s. He sighed. His tongue craved the rich sweetness of wine. This sodding piss version of it wouldn’t suffice.

The kitchen area of the Red Keep was a restricted place even for the royal family. Only the most trustworthy cooks and servants were allowed, ensuring that the food being served was safe to eat for everyone.

Back when Aegon was younger, he had befriended one of the servants in the kitchen. She was a young pretty little thing, ambitious and always eager to please those who were above her station. Aegon had made her sneak out wine for him—sometimes rum as well when it was available—in exchange for empty promises of life at court.

His grandfather found out about it, however, having eyes and ears everywhere. Aegon was reprimanded, and the hours of his lessons and training were prolonged. He didn’t exactly know what happened to the servant girl, though some servants had whispered that she was sent to a whorehouse. Some had said that she was executed.

It was perhaps the first time Aegon had felt bad in his life. The servant girl was the first closest thing he had to a friend. Certainly, the girl had her own agendas being that kind, but she had always helped Aegon. He appreciated that. She even taught him the hidden passageways to the cellar so he could get as many wine bottles as he wanted.

Aegon trod carefully. It was not a good time to sneak into the kitchens at this hour; luncheon was near and everyone would be in the area, but Aegon couldn’t wait anymore. When the hallway was clear, he slipped into the hidden doorway that led to the cellar.

“There you are, my love,” he said with an exhale as he saw the arrays of wine barrels. Give him a woman to warm him and it was truly his own version of paradise. 

Quickly, he grabbed one of the prepared bottles on the shelf and kissed it. As he heard footsteps approaching, he shoved the bottle under his doublet and exited the way he came.

With hasty steps, Aegon turned to a corner and almost slammed into someone. When he saw who the person was, Aegon couldn’t help but grin.

Twice his brother had told him to stay away from their nephew, and twice fate had made them stumble upon each other. Aegon was seeing a pattern.

“Uncle Aegon,” said Lucerys. He sounded breathless, his cheeks flushed, though his brow was furrowed. 

“Luke,” he greeted with a nod. “Exploring the castle again?”

Luke chuckled, shaking his head. “Uh, no. I’m not exploring. What are you doing here?” His nephew looked around the unfamiliar surroundings. Aegon doubted Luke even knew where here was.

Aegon opened his doublet just a little to show Luke the bottle of wine. “Just getting my precious sweet thing.”

A frown contorts his nephew’s face. “Shouldn’t you be not drinking right now?”

“Well, I’m not drinking now, am I? Don’t worry, I’m saving it for later.” Luke opened his mouth but no answer came. Aegon hummed and leaned against the wall. “So, tell me then, what are you doing here?”

“Um, I…” Luke looked behind him as if he was expecting someone there.

Aegon cocked his head to the side, looking past his nephew and to the empty hallway beyond. “You’re running away from someone. Are you running away from my brother?”

“What? No! No, I wasn’t running away from Aemond.” Luke shook his head more vehemently this time. “I just—I got lost in my thoughts and didn’t see where I was going.”

“But it had something to do with my brother, didn't it?” 

The way Luke’s cheeks blossomed like red rose petals was the only answer Aegon needed. He snorted and fought the urge to roll his eyes. 

“What did you do to my brother now?” Aegon asked.

Luke scoffed. “I didn’t do anything to him! I just wanted to talk…”

“Talk about what?” Aegon remembered that Luke had already talked to his brother to apologize. What could he possibly want from Aemond now? 

His nephew shifted uncomfortably, chewing on his lip. Aegon crossed his arms and tapped his forearm patiently. 

“I wanted to talk to him about the training on the morrow,” Luke finally said.

Aegon arched an eyebrow. “Scared, nephew?”

Luke glared at him but there was no real heat to it. “I’m not scared.”

“Then why talk to my brother?”

“Well… you know how our spars have always gone,” Luke muttered. “It’s always the oldest son against the oldest son and the second son against the second son.”

“So you are scared,” said Aegon, grinning widely.

Luke sucked a breath between his teeth. “I am not. But I cannot deny that there’s a gap between our skills.”

“There’s a gap between Aemond and everyone else’s skills,” Aegon said with a snort. “You don’t need to be afraid, Luke. Besides, you do know you’re the only one who has managed to draw blood on him, right? If anything, you’re the greatest opponent for him.”

The reminder of Aemond’s eye made his nephew grimace. “That’s not very comforting.”

“I’m telling you, you’ll do fine.” Aegon waved a dismissive hand. “Anyway, what did you even tell my brother? That you’re not coming?”

“Maybe…” Luke scratched the back of his neck.

“And what did my little brother say?”

“He just told me no and walked away,” Luke huffed.

Aegon laughed and stifled it right away as he remembered that they were not supposed to be in the area. He slung his arm around Luke’s shoulders and led him away. 

“If you truly wanted to avoid our training, you would’ve not told Aemond about it. But then again—” Aegon winced for the dramatics. “I’m afraid that if your presence is missing, my brother would scourge the entire Keep to hunt you down and challenge you into a real duel.”

He could feel Luke shuddering against him. Aegon tried not to dwell on it. 

“That’s exactly why I confronted him,” Luke said with a frown. “I think Aemond only agreed to the training because he wants to torture me.”

If you only knew, nephew, Aegon wanted to say. Instead, Aegon gave Luke a smile. “Then just torture him back. I know you’re aware of how easy it is to rile Aemond up. I’ve seen you do it on purpose.”

This made Luke smile a little, thinking it over. “I suppose so…”

With their close proximity, Aegon could feel the heat radiating from Luke’s skin. The scent of something flowery and grassy wafted into his nose—it almost overwhelmed him. If Luke noticed his grip tightening on his shoulder, he didn’t comment on it.

The two of them were almost the same height. If Aegon turned his head, he could clearly see Luke’s cheek, red and plump; the flutter of his long lashes against his skin. He was so close he could see Luke’s tongue dart out to wet his lips.

Aegon pulled away so suddenly he almost staggered. Luke blinked at him, terribly confused.

“Well,” Aegon said. “I’ll leave you to your Aemond problem then, Luke.”

He turned around and was about to walk away when Luke grabbed him by the wrist, jerking him to a halt. 

“Wait, uncle!”

Aegon faced his nephew. There was a familiar glint in Luke’s dark eyes, flickering wildly against the firelight in the hallway. Aegon felt himself pulled in, his body moving on its own.

“What is it?” Aegon’s voice sounded raspy. His throat was starting to get parched. He needed his wine now.

Luke cleared his throat, stepping forward, his doe eyes staring right through Aegon’s. The redness in his nephew’s cheeks became more vibrant; it seemed permanent at this point. “Since I can’t escape the training, I was thinking…” 

“Yes?”

“I was thinking that I can still avoid Aemond,” Luke said. Aegon didn’t point out how he had called Aemond by his name only.

“How exactly?” Aegon asked.

Luke grinned. “Become my sparring partner, uncle.”

Aegon blinked as he was stunned into a brief silence. The thought of sparring against Luke instead of Jace was not unpleasant. In fact, Aegon realized that Luke would be a better match for him.

There was no doubt that Jace would take the training seriously. Now that his oldest nephew was no longer smaller than him, it would mean that Aegon couldn’t slacken his movements anymore. 

Partnering up with Luke was rational.

Luke took another step and gathered Aegon’s hands in his. Aegon’s brow rose—the glide of Luke’s palms against his skin was almost as smooth as a woman’s thighs.

“So? What say you, uncle?” Luke asked, beaming. “You know it’ll benefit us both.”

Aegon’s smile was slow and sly. His brother would definitely not like that Luke had decided to partner with Aegon, especially after telling him to stay away, not once but twice. 

But what would he have Aegon do? Everything was going on in Aegon’s favor even though he hadn’t done a single thing. It was the gods’ will to have him and Luke stumble upon each other; it was Luke who approached him and offered him some sort of alliance. Aegon did nothing. 

There was no way he would reject this just so his little brother could be at ease. If anything, this would be killing two birds with one stone.

He stared at Luke’s face, eyes wide and waiting. He reached out his hand. “I say we should shake on it, nephew.”

+ + +

The sun was high up when Aegon made it to the training yard. 

He was not in the best of moods when he woke up. After almost finishing his wine the night before, Aegon had fallen into a deep slumber, which meant he had to be woken up again. 

Aemond had almost kicked him out of the bed. Aegon had almost clawed his brother’s remaining eye out. It wasn’t a good morning.

It certainly didn’t help that Luke wasn’t present when they broke their fast. Jace told them that Rhaenyra and Daemon required Luke’s presence that morning. For what, he didn’t elaborate.

With Luke gone, Aegon’s appetite vanished as well. Their meal was dull; Aemond couldn’t even be bothered and finished quickly. Jace didn’t try to engage him in a conversation—Aegon assumed his words against him and his betrothed were still fresh to his nephew.

Aegon ate his food with disinterest. 

When midday struck, Aegon went to the training yard where he found Aemond already in his gear. Ser Criston was nowhere to be found.

“Where’s Ser Criston?” Aegon asked as he put on his gear.

“He’s needed by Mother,” Aemond said. He flipped his sword through his fingers, lips in a tight line yet again.

Aegon snickered. “Nervous, brother?” 

Aemond sneered. “Why would I be?”

Before Aegon could retort, their nephews finally arrived, already in their gear. Aegon grabbed a sword and went to a corner, waiting for his nephews to prepare themselves. 

In the corner of his eyes, Aegon could see the tension in Aemond’s shoulders. He was no longer playing with his sword, his grip on its hilt was so tight his knuckles protruded. His face was impassive as though he was already bored before the training session even began, but Aegon knew otherwise.

His brother’s dark gaze burned into Luke, following him as he grudgingly picked up a sword. Aemond was waiting like a rabid dog, practically foaming at the mouth. He was ready to pounce at any moment.

Joffrey complained when he was given a wooden sword, but one talk with Jace calmed the boy down. The youngest bastard seemed content as he faced the straw figure and swung at him in awkward strikes.

Jace, who had been the one to arrange the whole thing, looked restless—uneasy. His gaze kept shifting between Aegon and Aemond, seizing them up as if he was examining which of them was more dangerous. Then he pulled Luke to the side and said something to him.

Aegon couldn’t hear what they were saying, their voices turning into a flurry of hushed words. Luke was frowning, his lips moving in a mumble, while Jace looked worried, his hand rubbing comfort on Luke’s shoulder.

When Jace gave Aegon a quick wary glance, Aegon huffed a laugh. Luke told Jace about their deal—of course, he would. Even though Aegon was relatively the less dangerous uncle, Jace would still have doubts about him. He wouldn’t willingly give his brother away like that.

Luke said something again, and this time, Jace finally nodded, albeit begrudgingly. Luke turned on his heels and went straight toward where Aegon was, passing by Aemond without a glance or acknowledgment.

It was difficult not to laugh when Aemond’s face morphed into something dark, nostrils flaring, fist clenching and shaking. The glare he sent Aegon was definitely enough to scare away every servant in the Red Keep, but Aegon was already immune to it. Even when Jace was in front of him, greeting him diplomatically, Aemond’s eye remained on Aegon and Luke.

“Uncle,” Luke breathed out when he finally stopped right in front of him. The heat of the sun set his cheeks aflame again.

Aegon flashed him a bright smile, turning away from his brother. It already felt like days since he last saw his nephew. “Are you ready, Luke?”

“I guess…” Luke said, shoulders slouching.

“You guess? Come on, nephew. Do try to cheer up a bit. We’re here to have fun.” Aegon used the flat side of his blade to slightly smack his nephew on the arm.

“Hey!” Luke protested, and then he tried to smack Aegon but Aegon dodged quickly. He frowned and whispered, “I can feel Aemond looking. He’s still looking, isn’t he?”

Aegon didn’t even need to look at his brother to tell. “Well, he was expecting to go against you. I’m actually surprised Jace agreed to it.”

Luke shrugged. “Jace didn’t like the idea, especially after what happened during that dinner.” 

The scoff came out of his throat before Aegon could help it. Luke may have seemed like a helpless damsel at the time but he was not. If Jace only knew how Luke didn’t bat an eye when he slapped Aegon. Luke Velaryon didn’t need any protection.

“But,” Luke went on, “he hated the idea of me and Aemond going against each other more. He thinks Aemond will really try to hurt me.”

“Oh, I think so too,” Aegon said. He swung lightly which was parried against Luke’s sword. Their movements were slow and soft while on the other side of the yard, the clashes of their brothers’ swords rang shrilly. “But I also think you would’ve held your own. I even think you’d take the first victory.”

“Really?” Luke asked, pausing.

“Aemond is level-headed when it comes to these things, but with you in it—well, we know how he is when you’re around.” 

Seeing that Luke wasn’t paying attention, head too far in the clouds as he thought of Aemond, Aegon hit Luke’s sword with more force than he intended and it flew away. It was a dirty move, but who was Aegon if not shameless?

“What—that’s not fair, uncle!” Luke said as he picked up his sword from the ground.

Aegon laughed. “We’re sparring. Please pay attention next time.”

“That doesn’t count. We were talking,” Luke huffed, pouting.

“Excuses, excuses. Try and keep up, nephew.”

Luke’s nostrils flared, and with that, he advanced on Aegon in a few strides. Aegon hastily dodged every attack, taken aback by the sudden switch in his nephew. Luke’s moves lacked force in them but they kept coming in quick succession. Aegon couldn’t do anything but block them with his sword.

The determination in Luke’s eyes was palpable. His movements were far from refined, almost frantic and unrestrained. Wild and unpredictable, Jeyne’s voice rang in Aegon’s head. He fought off a smile on his lips as he tried to counterattack.

With a sudden move sideways, Luke dodged his attack and spun in his heels. Aegon couldn’t move his hand fast enough as the tip of Luke’s sword was pointed against his neck.

Aegon grinned. “Alright. I guess we’re even now.”

Luke grinned back, some of his curls already sticking to his forehead. “Oh, we’re only getting started, Uncle Aegon.”

What was supposed to be a laid-back training session turned into an arduous one. They exchanged blows, their swords meeting with a clang; the surrounding environment was nothing but a blur to them. 

It wasn’t the most regal spar, that was certain, but neither of them cared. Luke was like a feral animal—if Aegon didn’t know any better, he’d really thought his nephew was out for his blood. His attacks didn’t dwindle, coming from all directions imaginable. His movements shouldn’t make sense but in the end, he could still disarm Aegon or have him surrender, and that was all that mattered.

Like everyone else, Aegon never liked losing so he didn’t hold back either. He remembered all the lessons from Ser Criston; all the times his brother had defeated him and put it to use. 

As his nephew was busy blocking his attacks, Aegon swept his feet against Luke’s legs, making the boy tumble back. Luke landed on his ass, his sword clattering away on the ground. Aegon smirked as he pointed his sword at his nephew’s neck. Luke glared at him.

He moved his sword away and was about to hold out a hand when Luke jumped onto him, snatching his sword from his hand. Aegon fell onto the floor with a groan, and Luke straddled his torso, putting the sword against his throat.

Luke smiled down at him, dark and ferocious. It was so far from the Lucerys Velaryon that everyone knew—the meek prince with flushed cheeks and soft voice, always hiding behind his mother—and yet the sight was all too familiar. 

Wild and unpredictable. 

The heat against Aegon’s skin burned hotter than the blinding sun. He didn’t even try to move and turn the fight around. 

A sudden growl echoed in the yard. They turned their heads to see Jace on the ground, scrambling to get his sword. Aemond stood over him, but his eye wasn’t on his opponent. 

Instead, Aemond’s single eye was staring directly at Aegon and Luke. Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle at the situation.

Jace finally grabbed his sword. Aemond tore his gaze away and focused on his opponent. Still having the advantage, Aemond gave Jace an unwarranted kick on his side. Jace fell onto the ground again with a groan.

Luke tensed, and Aegon already knew what was going to happen. 

His nephew scrambled to get away and charge at Aemond, but Aegon was fast, body moving in instinct. He grabbed Luke's ankle and pulled. The boy dropped onto the ground with a thud. With all his strength, Aegon dragged his nephew back to him and pinned his limbs against the rough earth.

“Let me go!” Luke spat, trying to kick himself free.

“Oh, you’re not going anywhere,” Aegon said, panting. A cruel smile stretched his lips. “You’re going to watch your dear brother lose.”

Though when they looked back at the fight, Aemond had completely ignored Jace and was about to stalk toward them. Aegon frowned—how could his brother be such an idiot?

Now that his attention was elsewhere, Jace was free to get on his feet. Aegon could only click his tongue as he watched Jace tackle Aemond to the ground. Jace didn’t hesitate to land punches on Aemond’s face.

With a groan, Aegon got off Luke and wrenched Jace away from his brother. Still angry and aggressive, Jace punched him in the face as well. Soon enough, a bigger fight broke out. He didn’t know when Luke had joined in but he was also there, landing kicks and punches.

It was utter chaos. Aegon wasn’t sure anymore who he was hitting, though he was certain Aemond had punched him, and he knew that it was far from accidental.

There was a scream of panic—it was Joffrey, Aegon assumed. Then the four of them were pulled apart by guards, and there was Daemon, standing over them with a look that was a mixture of disbelief and amusement.

“What the fuck were you doing?” Daemon asked.

No one spoke, their heavy breathing was their only response.

Aside from the forming bruises on his cheek, Jace looked absolutely fine. Though his eyes held nothing but contempt as he glared at both Aegon and Aemond. 

Aegon’s eyes found his brother’s. Aemond was still glaring at him, probably murdering him in his head, as the blood from his bruised lip dripped down his chin. Out of the four of them, Aemond looked the worst—aside from the cut on his lip, he also had a cut on his cheek and several bruises around it. Jace didn’t hold back, finally showing that he was indeed the blood of Breakbones.

His eyes found Lucerys next, who was staring at Aemond. Luke had the least damage taken. The only evidence that he participated in the fight was a faint bruise forming on his chin, which was probably Aegon’s fault when he grabbed the boy earlier.

Luke turned to him, his fiery eyes burning brighter than the sun. Aegon almost shivered despite the heat of everything. His body itched to have Luke under him again.

“I asked all of you a question,” Daemon said, the grit in his voice reflecting his waning patience. “What were you doing?”

Jace opened his mouth to answer but Luke beat him to it. “We were just training,” Luke blurted out.

Daemon raised an eyebrow. “You call that training? You all looked like those bloody kids in fighting pits, ready to kill each other.”

Aegon snorted. Daemon turned to him with narrow eyes so he bit his tongue.

“It was just a boyish fight,” Luke said, voice calmer than ever. “It wasn’t that serious.”

“A boyish fight indeed,” Daemon agreed. He seemed to have calmed down with Luke’s reassurance. “Now I understand the rush that a fight gives so I can give this a pass, but—if I see you one more time like this, I’ll beat your face with my own fists.”

The threat seemed only to apply to Aegon and Aemond as Daemon pinned his gaze on them when he said those words. Aegon swallowed the lump in his throat.

“Now, go, all of you,” Daemon barked. “If your mothers see you like this, heads will roll and more blood will spill.”

No one argued with Daemon about that.

As Aegon went back to the corridor toward his chamber, Aemond walked past him, slamming his shoulder against Aegon’s. Aegon could only shake his head in disbelief as he watched his brother trod away.

His brother could have all the skills of a veteran fighter as he wanted, but at the end of the day, he was still a cunt-struck fool who could only think with his dick. 

A man ruled by his desires, acting on them in the worst ways possible. Aegon was glad he wasn’t anything like his brother.

Chapter Text

The Queen and the Crown Princess didn’t learn about the little fight in the training yard, which was a relief to the realm. When the two mothers saw the state of their sons, especially Aemond, the boys decided to put the blame on some nameless thieves in the streets of the capital.

“And why in the Seven’s name were all of you outside?” the Queen demanded.

Only Aegon was brave and believable enough to come up with lies. “We wanted to show our nephews around the city.”

Mother glared at him for that, caressing Aemond’s bruised face. Then she proceeded to glare at Rhaenyra’s bastards, not even hiding the disgust and contempt in her eyes. Aegon’s half-sister put herself in front of her sons, shielding them again as if they were young children still.

“And you did it without bringing guards along with you?” Mother hissed. “How foolish can you be, Aegon?”

She was about to storm toward him, hand rising, when Aemond held onto her arm. A small part of Aegon would like to think that his brother was helping him out, but he knew Aemond was just protecting their mother’s reputation.

“It’s alright, Mother. I’m okay. We all are,” Aemond cooed. Mother didn’t look convinced but it was enough to stop her, the scowl on her face deepening. Aegon wanted to laugh but he couldn’t.

On the other side of the throne room, Jace was consoling his mother. Aegon’s half-sister was easier to reassure, already smiling softly at her son. She gave each of her boys a caressing touch on the cheek, whispering something under her breath. Jace nodded curtly while guilt contorted Luke’s face.

Aegon stared at Luke until his nephew finally turned to him. There was a spark in those dark eyes—just a tiny one that was extinguished as quickly as it came. He expected Luke to tear his gaze away, to look at something else, lip quivering between his teeth.

Instead, Luke held his gaze. It seemed different, a piercing shot that went straight through him. A clean cut. Luke smiled at him—an apologetic smile, Aegon supposed.  

Though it reminded Aegon too much of the fight. The wild smile on Luke’s face as he straddled Aegon, sweaty and victorious, sword against his throat. Aegon shivered and looked away.

Mother didn’t put up much of a fight, although it was clear that she wanted to. Her precious son had been damaged yet again, bruises and cuts decorating his face, but this time, there was no justice to be made. No vengeance to act upon.

Rhaenyra’s bastards were as innocent as they were. If anything, the whole thing was Aegon’s fault in his mother’s eyes, and there was nothing to be done. At least, not when the whole court was present.

It wasn’t long before they were all dismissed by the Hand. Grandfather hadn’t spoken a word the entire time, only observing them with his sharp eyes. Aegon didn’t know what his gaze entailed; he was never good at reading his enigma of a grandfather.

Aegon ignored the heated glare his mother sent his way as he stalked out of the throne room. His feet immediately brought him back to the cellar to grab another bottle of wine. A servant stumbled upon him, eyes widening with a squeak when he was on his way out. He couldn’t be bothered to coerce her into secrecy. If the servant would tattle him to his mother then so be it.

As he walked back to his bedchamber, he caught murmured voices in the hallway. His footsteps slowed down, stopping in front of the ajar door which he realized was his brother’s chamber. He couldn’t help himself—his brother never brought anyone back to his room and yet, there were two voices inside—naturally, Aegon had to take a peek. 

He supposed that it shouldn’t be a surprise to see that the person his brother was talking to was Lucerys. This was the same boy who had cornered Aemond and apologized to him on his first day back to King’s Landing only to laugh at him at supper hours later. Of course, he wouldn’t have any problem treading into the lion’s den unarmed. 

Brave or foolish, Aegon couldn’t pick a proper word to describe his nephew. Foolishly brave, perhaps.

Aemond sat in front of the hearth, fingers drumming against the arm of his chair. Luke stood a good distance away, his back facing Aegon. His nephew was speaking, but it was too low for him to decipher.

His brother remained unmoved, his eyes fixed on the fire dancing in front of him. There was a look of disinterest in his face, but Aegon knew it to be a farce. Even from afar, he could see how the fires danced in the mirth of his brother’s eye. 

Silence stretched between them. Luke was about to take a step back when Aemond grabbed his wrist. He said something, his lips moving in the slightest of ways, though Aegon caught the word still.

Stay, Aemond said.

How pathetic. Aegon wanted to snort, but he found in himself that he couldn’t. It was strange; where there should be amusement, there was something acrid instead.

Luke nodded, small yet firm. He grabbed a cloth from the table on one side of the room before going back. He bent down in front of Aemond, their eyes meeting at the same level. Luke didn’t say anything, waiting for Aemond to make a move.

With Luke so close to him, it looked like Aemond would pull back and retaliate, bare his teeth in a sneer, but he didn’t. Instead, his single eye turned mellow—almost soft. Aemond nodded, the movement so subtle Aegon almost missed it, and Luke took his bruised hand in his. 

Gently, Luke pressed the cloth against the raw cuts on Aemond’s skin. Aemond was stiff as a rock, only following Luke’s movements with silence. Luke looked at him, offering a kind smile. Aegon’s brother didn’t smile back.

After Luke finished with Aemond’s hand, he moved onto his cheek and hesitated when Aemond flinched. When Aemond swallowed, turning his face to present his cheek, Luke started to clean the small wounds there too.

The cuts probably stung but Aemond never moved an inch, seemingly satisfied with everything as Luke cleaned his wounds in silence.

Aegon didn’t stay long. He went back to his room and drank the day away.

+ + +

The departure of the delegates from Volantis meant that everyone went back to the local matters of the court. Aegon’s father, the King, continued to oversee the affairs of the realm. When his illness impeded him, the King asked his firstborn to attend on his behalf much to the Hand and the Queen’s chagrin.

Aegon couldn’t be bothered by it. With Rhaenyra’s family still in the Keep, Mother and Grandfather couldn’t use Aegon as they wished. His duty as a prince was now confined to building a civil relationship with his nephews and cousins. 

Despite what had happened at the training yard, Jace still asked Aegon and Aemond to train with him and his brothers. Surprising as it was, it was probable that Aegon’s nephews were being forced into it.

Aegon had been reluctant at first. While he enjoyed sparring with Luke and watching Aemond lose his composure for all to see, Aegon wasn’t keen on getting in the middle of a fight yet again; knowing his brother and his nephews, there would surely be another.

Besides, he wasn’t certain that Aemond would agree to the whole thing again. His brother wasn’t the type to forget any offense toward him; Aemond was anything but forgiving. If he was, he wouldn’t be very much obsessed with Luke as of late. 

Though perhaps Aegon underestimated how much of an idiot his brother was, because Aemond agreed to the whole thing without so much a blink of an eye. Even Jace was taken aback, eyes blinking as if he heard the man wrong. 

Aemond’s answer was loud and clear, however. “Of course, nephew. We will be there.”

We will be there. Aegon sighed. He had no choice but to follow his little brother’s lead. If he refused the offer, it would certainly be seen as a slight toward his nephews.

The training yard was rather empty when they arrived the next day. Ser Criston was still missing—probably busy doing Mother’s bidding like a good dog. Ser Erryk was present instead, looking like he would rather be in a dragon’s belly than be anywhere near them. 

Aegon could very well sympathize. He himself would rather spend time with Helaena’s disgusting insects than sword train at the moment. Though the thought of fighting Luke again—perhaps that was the only thing that could save him from this whole tedious thing.

When his nephews appeared, Aegon grabbed his sword and stood to one side. He waited for Luke to come to him.

But then, Luke didn’t even spare him a glance. 

His nephew walked beyond where he was, skipping him in favor of Aemond, out of all people. Various degrees of surprise and confusion passed over everyone’s face including Aemond—most especially Aemond. He tried to hide the emotions on his face but his dilated pupil was telling.

Aegon couldn’t fight the frown on his face.

The look in Luke's eyes was something Aegon had never seen before. He had seen Luke’s wide, quivering eyes; his bright, curious eyes—even his dark, flaming ones. Aegon had seen them all in the short time his nephew had been in the Keep. 

This one was different, however. It was heavy and thick; viscous and dark like honey, dripping as he walked toward Aegon’s brother. Aemond’s one eye could only watch in what seemed a mixture of awe and shock, his grip on the hilt of his sword tremendously tight.  

Luke gave a small bow which Aemond returned with a stiff nod. It was only days ago when Luke was anxious to meet Aemond for the training, and now here he was, facing the man with unwavering bravado.

Curious, Aegon thought. He wondered what happened between the two in Aemond’s bedchamber when he left.

Jace seemed unsure about the whole ordeal, glancing at his brother often. Contrastingly, his features were relaxed at the sight of Aegon as his sparring partner. Aegon couldn’t say that he felt the same. Nevertheless, Aegon tore his gaze from Aemond and Luke to focus on his other nephew.

“Uncle,” greeted Jace.

“Jace,” Aegon said with a nod.

With Ser Erryk’s command, Aegon and his nephew started to spar. It was undoubted now that Jace had grown to be a formidable swordsman. His strikes were full of strength, movements filled with undying precision.

It was antithetical to how Luke had moved. Where Luke was quick and unpredictable, Jace was forceful and predictable.

While he did not prefer it, Aegon could settle with something that he could easily comprehend.

Across the yard, quick clashes of swords rung out accompanied by occasional grunts and chuckles—gods, his brother was having fun. Aegon didn’t spare them a look, focusing on his own opponent instead. 

Sparring against Jace proved to be tiring. Only a small amount of time had passed and Aegon’s limbs were already going numb. Jace looked annoyed as Aegon’s sword was flung away for the fourth time in a row.

Jace sighed, pinching his nose bridge. “You’re not taking this seriously, uncle.”

Aegon rolled his eyes as he picked up his sword. “I am taking it seriously.”

“Right,” Jace said, brow furrowing slightly. As Aegon went back to his stance, Jace readied himself once more, swinging his sword.

This time, Aegon struck the first blow. Jace was taken by surprise, steps faltering, but he easily blocked the attack. Aegon didn’t let him regain his footing. He kept coming, leaving no room to recover until Jace had his back against the wall. Jace raised his hand in surrender, lips pursed.

“See? I’m taking it seriously,” Aegon said with a sardonic smile.

Jace took a deep breath, his nose flaring and his shoulders tightening. He held his head high, accepting the unsaid challenge with a hardened, lighted gaze. 

Although Jace had the same dark eyes, they were all too different from his brother’s. They also held fire in them but they lacked ferocity; the flickering wildness. 

They were nothing like Luke’s eyes.

They weren’t Luke’s.

Aegon clicked his tongue, shaking the thought away. As Jace charged toward him, Aegon took a sharp intake of breath and drowned out the noises across the yard.

+ + +

There was a hand on Aegon’s thigh. It was small and velvety, rubbing smoothly against his skin. Soft kisses were pressed onto his groin, so close to his hardening cock. He let out a sigh, sinking into the seat further.

Wet lips surrounded his length, the heat making him hiss in bliss. His fists tightened onto the whore’s hair, soft curls as dark as midnight in the candlelight. 

Brunettes weren’t his preferred go-to, but something about this woman enticed him. She had smiled at him bashfully when he chose her, whispering a gentle, “I’m glad to see you again, my prince.”

Aegon could only blink at her. 

She knew him and her words suggested that he knew her as well. Aegon tried to rack his brain for anything but nothing came up. 

Maybe she was lying. It wouldn’t be the first time.  Some whores liked to trick their customers into thinking that they knew them so they could be chosen more often. Having more regular customers meant more profit; more coins and more gifts.

Personally, Aegon usually never repeated the same whores—always flipping through the options, his tongue easily craving something new. Though this woman looked and sounded genuine. She must be good then, Aegon thought. It was a shame he couldn’t remember their first time together.

Aegon moaned as the whore’s throat constricted around his length, sucking him so good he felt like his soul was being pulled in.

He was close.

So close.

Then there was a knock on the door. 

“It’s almost time,” said a muffled voice. It was so gruff it immediately made Aegon soft. “We need to get back, my prince.”

Aegon rolled his eyes. Ever since that day when Aemond and Ser Criston fetched him from Flea Bottom, his grandfather had asked Ser Erryk to keep an extra eye on him. 

Everywhere Aegon went, Ser Erryk had been his constant shadow. The Kingsguard had enough manners to always be at a decent distance away, but Aegon could still feel his presence no matter how. It was starting to get on his nerves. 

Aegon couldn’t sneak out of the castle the way he used to. Before, Ser Erryk would just turn his head away and let him be as a prince of the realm, but with the Hand’s recent orders, there was no certainty that Ser Erryk would turn a blind eye again.

So Aegon had to make do with this rather unpleasant situation, and he did the first thing he could think of. He made a deal with the Kingsguard.

Truthfully, he thought Ser Erryk would only ignore him. After all, the white cloaks were known to be bound by honor and whatever other high principles they had. Though it seemed Aegon’s persuasion skills were still good. That, or Ser Erryk had finally grown tired of him for he had agreed to Aegon’s proposal.

Aegon was allowed to leave the castle and do what he wanted under two conditions. The first was that Ser Erryk would accompany him, still keeping his distance. Second, Aegon would have to come back to the Keep before sunrise.

It seemed a rather one-sided agreement, Aegon was well aware of that, but it was better than not being able to go out at all and face his grandfather and his mother’s wrath if he did.

The whore stopped altogether, his cock slipping out of her mouth. Aegon groaned, letting his head fall back. There was no point in continuing now. Ser Erryk had all but ruined the moment for him.

Begrudgingly, Aegon tucked his dick inside his breeches. The whore was still on her knees, looking up at him with her wide, bright eyes.

Aegon realized that they were deep brown too, the woman’s eyes. She had been so busy burying her face onto his cock that he didn’t notice it. 

“Will you come back, my prince?” she asked, a little bit hopeful.

Her eyes were familiar yet strange. It irked something inside him, annoyance and heat pooling in his chest. Aegon looked away and left the room without saying a word.

Ser Erryk stood by the door, waiting patiently as if he hadn’t knocked moments prior.

Aegon scowled. “Don’t interrupt me next time.”

The knight didn’t respond. Aegon wanted to punch him but the alcohol in his veins rendered him with languid movements.

Clicking his tongue, he went off and didn’t wait to see if the knight followed.

When they reached the corridors leading to his chamber, Aegon spotted a familiar figure walking in their direction. He blinked his eyes, thinking that the buzz of the alcohol was still playing with his mind, but the figure never disappeared.

It only became corporeal as it came closer. 

Ser Erryk halted and bowed. “Prince Lucerys, the hour is late.”

Luke immediately flushed at the mention of the time. He was in his night clothes, the tunic loosely hugging his frame, his hair a bit of an unruly mess as if he had run his anxious fingers through it. His eyes were a bit wet as if he had just woken up; or as if he were holding back his tears. 

“Ser Erryk,” Luke said with a nod. His gaze flickered to Aegon, eyes widening as if he only noticed him there. “Uncle Aegon.”

Aegon hummed, arching an eyebrow. “You can leave now, Ser Erryk.”

The knight paused for a moment, eyes fleeting between the two princes. Then he gave an affirming nod and left, the clinking of his armor echoing through the walls as he walked away.

As Ser Erryk’s steps faded away, the corridor plunged into deafening silence. Luke shifted his weight between his feet, fingers fidgeting to hold onto something.

“Nephew,” Aegon drawled. “What brings you to this side of the castle?”

“Uncle, are you drunk?” Luke asked, ignoring his question.

Aegon blinked. The walk back to the keep had already evanesced the remaining haze in his head, but as he stood in front of his nephew, everything seemed to come back in huge, inescapable waves. 

He stepped forward, putting his hands behind his back. Luke didn’t make a move to step away, deep brown eyes staring at him. The heat in Aegon’s chest flickered back to life.

“Am I drunk?” Aegon shrugged and took a deep breath. The smell of the must and damp wafted to his nose, the cold air stinging his lungs. There was a faint sweet smell too—something flowery and evocative—but Aegon couldn’t put a name to it. “That depends, I guess.”

Luke’s brow furrowed. “You are drunk.”

The chuckle that came out of Aegon’s throat was raspy, his throat suddenly drying out. “Maybe I am drunk. Don’t act so surprised.”

“I’m not surprised,” Luke said with a roll of his eyes. “It’s just that… are you alright?”

Aegon faltered. “What do you mean?”

“I’ve noticed these days that you’re always buried in your cups, so I’m wondering… the wine, the alcohol, whatever it is—do you really enjoy it? Being this groggy and light doesn’t seem so pleasant.”

He cocked his head to the side, watching the way his nephew’s face morphed between curiosity and something else he couldn’t name. Luke was a curious boy, that he knew, but his nephew had never been this interested in him. “Care killed the cat, nephew.”

Luke’s frown deepened, his smooth face contorting. It seemed so different when the creases on his face were accompanied by fury. This, however, frown and soft eyes staring back at him—Aegon didn’t like it; he wanted to smooth everything out. It all somehow reminded him of his mother too much.  

“I’m not worried,” Luke huffed. “I’m just curious, is all.”

“You know, Luke, I’m curious as well.” Aegon couldn’t remember closing the distance between them, but he was so close to Luke now. “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing,” came Luke’s hurried answer.

“C’mon, nephew. Don’t lie.”

The look in Luke’s eyes faltered, but he still stood his ground, lying through his gritted teeth. “I’m telling the truth.”

Aegon snickered. The flowery smell was stronger now, almost intoxicating as he leaned in to whisper in Luke’s ear. “You were with Aemond, weren’t you?”

Luke’s sharp intake of breath brought satisfaction to his ears. There was still some space between them but Aegon could feel the way his nephew stiffened, eyes wide as saucers. 

“I d-don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, don’t act so daft now.” Aegon scoffed. “You’re not the only one who’s been noticing things these days. You and my brother have grown more civil—closer, friendlier, perhaps.”

Luke glared at him, cheek twitching. There it was, there was that fire. 

“And? Why do you say it like it’s a crime, uncle? Isn’t that why we break our fast together—why we train as men together—so we can bond again like we used to?”

Aegon sneered. “Is going to my brother’s chamber a part of the bonding as well?”

“W-What?” Luke swallowed, stepping back.

“I knew you were in his room,” Aegon said, grin becoming wider, showing off his teeth. “I saw you when you treated his wounds.”

“That was n-nothing!”

The way Luke’s face went through hundreds of emotions in a span of short time was amusing. His face was so red now, lips opening and closing like a fish. 

“Nothing?” Aegon wasn’t an idiot. Luke looked like he was caught doing something that he shouldn’t have; it was not nothing. “Don’t try to fool me, nephew. It’s okay, you can tell me. I won’t make fun of you.”

Probably.

For a moment, Luke only blinked at him, his breathing dwindling into calmness. Aegon could practically see the inside of his nephew’s mind as he thought about it.

Luke licked his lips. Aegon’s eyes unwillingly followed his tongue. The movement felt so slow, borderline torturous; it almost reminded Aegon of the whore before she took his cock in her mouth.

“I was—” Luke grimaced before he shook his head. His curls had now become a bigger mess. “Yes. Yes, I was in Aemond’s chamber.”

The confession should have brought triumph, but Aegon didn’t feel it. Instead, the acrid feeling came back, clawing at his chest. It must be the alcohol meddling with his thoughts and body. It must be.

Aegon hummed, ignoring the irritation building up in his veins. “And do tell me, nephew, what were you doing there? Were you cleaning his wounds again?”

“No,” Luke said, his lips curling. “I just wanted to talk to him”

“At this hour?”

“Sleep eludes me, uncle.”

Aegon nodded even though he still didn’t quite understand. “You couldn’t sleep… and then the first thing you wanted to do was to spend time with my brother.”

Luke bit his lip. “Well, he’s the reason why I couldn’t sleep.”

That shouldn’t be strange, but it was. Aegon knew far too well that his brother could make Luke anxious—he could make anyone anxious—though this seemed different yet familiar. The tone of Luke’s voice was familiar.

It was light and soft, almost coy. Strangely enough, it was something Aegon had heard before in his brother’s voice. Aemond held the same breathy tone when he talked about Luke; when he unconsciously revealed his desire for their nephew.

Aegon thought about it then. Luke had been the first one to approach Aemond, holding out an olive branch. Apologizing to Aemond was not an easy task, especially given Luke’s misdeed to him, but Luke still went with it anyway, cornering Aemond alone. 

Luke even went into Aemond’s bedchamber and cleaned his wounds. He agreed to spar against Aemond despite being priorly anxious about it. Only a man with strong sentiments would go to the trenches and do these things.

But Aegon also thought of how Luke always seemed easy to anger when Aemond was around. The blaze in his eyes every time Aemond was present was not like any other. It was scorching, hotter and even brighter when Aegon insulted his mother. It almost didn’t make any sense.

Almost.

The image of his brother came into mind. Aemond, calm and always impassive, who only ever lost his composure like a wild dog escaping its cage when Luke was concerned. Aemond, with an emotional capacity as a rock, who only let his true colors show when Luke was there.

It hit Aegon like a punch. A hard jab right onto his stomach.

He should’ve known. It was like a flag waving in front of his face. His nephew and his brother had been acting similarly in such ways. It only made sense that their feelings were similar as well.

Aegon pulled Luke by his arm and dragged him along. Luke squawked, trying to get him off, as he pushed the boy into his chamber. His nephew was about to throw him a punch when Aegon grabbed his wrists.

“Tell me, Luke, do you fancy Aemond?”

Luke squealed in his hold, face contorting in a wince. “I think you’re too drunk, uncle!” 

“I’m not drunk,” said Aegon, rolling his eyes. Whatever faint buzz he had been feeling when he saw Luke in the corridor had all but waned. He was sober as he could ever be as though Ser Criston dumped another bucket of cold water on him. “Now, come on. Tell me the truth, nephew.”

Luke tried to kick him, but Aegon managed to pull away and miss it. In doing so, he had to release his hold on Luke, who glared at him as he rubbed his wrists. 

“So?” Aegon asked, his voice quite croaky. “Do you like my brother?”

There was a long pause from Luke, the muscle on his jaw twitching. “Don't ridicule me.”

Aegon’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I told you, I won’t make fun of you. In this, I don’t lie.”

He watched as Luke contemplated his words, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Slowly, Luke went to the nearest settee and fell back on it with a sigh. He turned to Aegon, looking at him with the softest gaze Aegon had ever seen. 

“I suppose… I suppose I do,” Luke mumbled, ears flaming red. 

Luke didn’t need to elaborate. Aegon understood. 

Aegon already guessed it, but to hear his nephew confirming it, establishing it as the truth, had him reeling back. His hand searched for the nearest wall. Everything felt so dizzy somehow.

It had been strange to discover that the object of his brother’s desire was Lucerys—even now, Aegon couldn’t still wrap his head around it—but it was even stranger to learn that this desire was reciprocated.

The words slipped out of Aegon’s tongue before he could stop them. He blamed it on the buzz in his head. “You like Aemond… even though you cut out his eye.”

Luke shot him a sharp look. “It’s not like it was a choice, alright?”

“It isn’t?” Aegon snorted.

His nephew’s scowl deepened. “Aemond was going to bash my brother’s head with a rock, I had no choice.”

“And your fancying him. Let me guess, that wasn’t a choice either, is it?” Luke’s silence was the only answer Aegon needed. He couldn’t help but laugh at the sheer irony of it all. “You are really something else, aren’t you, Luke?”

Luke blinked at him, confused. “Don’t you find it strange?”

“That you like my pathetic of a brother? Gods, of course, I do.”

“No, not that,” Luke said, shaking his head. “That I’m a man and…”

“And that you want my brother, who also happened to be a man?” Aegon shook his head, chuckling. “Why would I?”

His words seemed to hit Luke. The boy looked like he had been through several wars in a span of a second. Aegon leaned against the wall, tilting his head as he observed his nephew. 

“You haven’t been to a whorehouse, have you?” he asked.

Luke looked up at him, shifting in his seat. “What does it have to do with this?”

Aegon couldn’t help but grin. Growing up under Daemon’s care, Aegon would think that his nephew would be more knowledgeable about these things, but Luke was innocent still. 

“You see, in whorehouses, it’s all about wants and pleasure. People don’t care whether you prefer a woman or a man. There are no laws. There are no gods. You are free to take whatever you want.”

Licking his lips, Luke’s lashes fluttered as if he was imagining it. Aegon let himself imagine it too: his nephew right in the middle of a brothel, taking a cock like it was the only thing he knew. 

“Have you ever been with a man?” Luke suddenly asked.

“Once or twice,” Aegon said. “I prefer women more, but if I find myself with a pretty man then why not?”

“Oh,” Luke said, quite breathless. “How about Aemond?”

The repugnant feeling came back in harsher and more acidic waves. Aegon couldn’t control it. He frowned, pushing off the wall, and answered the question with another question. “Do tell me, nephew. Does your betrothed know about this?”

The mention of his betrothed knocked a sense into Luke. He stiffened, cheeks burning red. Then he cleared his throat. “Of course, she does. Rhaena’s the first one to know. She understands—she and I have come to an agreement.”

Aegon huffed; he should’ve expected that. “It seems that the two of you are really the blood of Rhaenyra and Laenor.”

Luke went on his feet, snarling with his gleaming teeth. Aegon waited for his nephew to storm toward him, but much to his dismay, he stayed where he was. Far and out of reach. 

“Keep their names out of your mouth,” Luke hissed. He shook his head, eyes filled with disappointment. “You and Aemond… the two of you just really have to ruin every moment, don’t you?”

Aegon paused. “Why? What did my idiot brother do now?” Luke turned his head away, lips pressed onto a thin line. Aegon took a step forward. “Luke, what did Aemond do?”

His nephew didn’t say anything for a moment. Aegon stepped forward cautiously, the flowery smell coming back to his senses. He itched for more but he willed himself not to move further.

“Did you confess to him?” Aegon asked.

“No!” Luke said, shaking his head vehemently. He was glowering as if the thought of confessing to Aemond was the worst thing he could do. Aegon wouldn’t even argue about it; his brother couldn’t handle his emotions, let alone other people’s. 

Luke took a deep breath, continuing. “I didn’t confess. I can't remember what started it, but he was taunting me about my betrothal. Then—then I was a fool, perhaps, to even mention that I don’t like women the way a man is supposed to.”

“And?” Aegon waited.

“And he told me the same thing you did,” Luke grumbled.

Looking at his nephew like this, gloomy and disgruntled, made Aegon mull everything over. There were two things he realized.

The first one was that he didn’t like seeing his nephew sad. In fact, Aegon didn’t like to see anyone like this. He could only wince, not knowing what to do. How should one comfort their nephew about matters like this?

Secondly, there was a twinge of ire and frustration in his chest. There was no doubt that his brother was a bloody idiot, but he didn’t think it would reach this extent. Lucerys’ admission of his sexual perversion should have been a perfect moment for Aemond. He had been pining after their nephew like a maid and yet, he turned away from the opportunity with a bark like the imbecile he was.

Clearly, Aegon’s brother didn’t know anything about these things. If it were Aegon, he would’ve grabbed the moment with the sharpest claws and never let go. Luke was already there, baring himself. Only a fool would let him go.

Aegon couldn’t stop himself. He let out the loudest laugh he’d ever had. Luke’s frown deepened as he sat down again, caving further into himself. 

“You really haven’t changed. You’re still mean,” said Luke.

“Hey. If I’m mean, then you’re meaner,” Aegon retorted to which Luke only rolled his eyes at. “Besides, I’m not laughing at you. I’m laughing at the situation.”

Luke’s brow rose. “And pray tell me, uncle, what’s funny about it?”

Because my brother wants you but he can’t even fucking bring himself to have you.

Aegon smiled. “What’s funny is that Aemond is a fool.”

“What do you mean?” Luke asked.

“It doesn’t matter,” Aegon said with a wave of a hand. “Now, answer this. Do you know how to seduce someone?”

The way Luke’s face dropped was hilarious. It was conspicuous how his features battled between looking offended and interested, dark eyes glinting in the firelight of the room. It was fascinating in a way, and Aegon couldn’t help himself. He wanted to see more of it.

He now stood in front of his nephew. He couldn’t remember when his feet had moved, but he was so close now that Aegon could only smell that flowery scent. Luke’s scent, he realized.

Luke looked up at him and meekly shook his head.

Aegon took his nephew’s chin in his fingers. In these damp castle walls, the chilly air kissing their skin, Luke’s skin felt like fire against his. Aegon should pull away as one did when burned, but his grip only tightened as he tilted Luke’s head back. 

A sweet gasp came out of Luke, mouth parting open. Aegon stared at his lips, and despite them being chapped from being chewed on too many times, they reminded him of something else. Another pair of lips, swollen and spit-licked, wrapped around his cock.

It was difficult not to give in and have his thumb shoved between those lips, but Aegon managed. With what was little left of his sobriety, he managed.

His gaze flickered back to Luke’s eyes. They were now wide and bright, waiting, a little bit hopeful. It felt like he was back in that whorehouse; it felt like Ser Erryk never interrupted, and he had never left.

This must be a sight if someone were to see them now. His nephew, in his bedchamber, in nothing but his nightclothes; hair disheveled, lips parted, chin held between Aegon’s fingers.

Aegon’s head was getting hazy.

Things rarely went as planned, Aegon knew that. If they did, he wouldn’t be here, standing in front of his nephew, his mind running with thoughts he would never expect even from himself. He wouldn’t gain anything from this, but he found in himself that he didn’t care.

He would do it anyway.

There was shallow breathing between them. Aegon didn’t know who it came from. Perhaps it was his nephew; perhaps it was him.

Aegon leaned down. “Do you want to learn how?”

Chapter Text

Upon knowing the truth, everything became as plain as day. 

Luke was rarely interested in the matters of the court. Whenever Jace and Baela brought up the discussion regarding their royal duties, Luke would always end up staring off into nowhere. 

Aegon couldn’t blame his nephew. It was all tedious.

Though as soon as Aemond stepped into the room, only offering occasional useless grunts and scoffs to the conversation, Luke would always perk up in his seat, eyes glimmering with undivided attention. It was so easy to mistake it for apprehension, but Aegon knew now. He could see it.

How Aegon missed all of these signs before, he had no idea.

Even now, his nephew couldn’t take his eyes off his brother, his gaze not only filled with wariness but also with longing. Despite Aemond’s idiocy, Luke still regarded him with childish hope. 

The Arbor red in Aegon’s tongue was no better than a cheap black tar rum.

During training, Luke and Aemond continued to be partners while Aegon was stuck with Jace. It was evident that Jace was getting impatient with him, but his nephew was too polite and princely to say anything in his face. The urge to throw his sword and walk away was rather tempting, but alas, not all hope was lost.

It didn’t go unnoticed that something had happened between Luke and Aemond. Their sparring had turned awkward—their movements half-hearted and sloppy. Ser Erryk shook his head at them and made them exchange partners.

Jace and Aemond were to fight while Aegon was back with Luke. It was the best thing the Kingsguard had done so far and for that, Aegon would be willing to pardon his previous misdeeds.

“Hello, uncle,” Luke said, still breathless. Sweat had made his curls cling to his forehead.

Aegon snickered. “It looks like my brother did a good hit on you, nephew.”

Lie, it was. Aegon could clearly see that Aemond was as worn out as his nephew, if not worse, but he couldn’t help himself. The acrid thing in his chest came out in harsh words and cruel smiles.

Luke frowned and assumed his stance. “Fight me,” he said.

His nephew had never been one to instigate a fight, even if it was a spar. Luke was always the one who would react, only returning the fire when he felt that he or his dear ones were threatened.

Aegon flipped his sword. Luke advanced on him with a growl.

The blood in Aegon’s veins burned like no other.

+ + +

The sky was clear, the sun glaring from above when Helaena wished to have luncheon out in the gardens. It would be a shame not to show off the pretty flowers to her pretty cousins, she had said. Aegon took one look outside and scrunched his nose, not seeing anything worthy to be shown off.

Nevertheless, Aegon’s sister was granted her wishes even though the displeasure on their mother’s face was palpable. Helaena rarely mingled with others, her proclivity to be with her insects isolating her from the rest of them, and so when she did—even with Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children, no less—Mother and Grandfather would let her. 

A table was set up for them, laid out with various foods as if there was a celebration of some sort. There were different meats, fowl, and even seafood to choose from: venison pie, spiced mutton, lamb chops, roasted duck, lamprey pie, and whiskerfish stew.

Another table on the side was occupied by fruits. There were blood oranges, Dornish plums, figs, and some others that Aegon didn’t bother to know the name of. Cakes and tarts were abundant—lemon cakes, cream cakes, strawberry pies, apple tarts, blackberry oatcakes, and even wintercakes.

Even Aegon’s nameday didn’t seem as grand as this, and he was a prince while this was nothing but an afternoon familial gathering. He wasn’t going to complain though. Not when the choice of drinks was exquisite as well. 

His sister should do this more often, Aegon thought as he downed a cup.

The luncheon was strange. The gardens seemed a different place far away from the Keep. It was too bright and too warm; everything was basked under the serene silence that surrounded them. For a short time, they weren’t the princes and princesses of the Seven Kingdoms, but just some lowborn nobles enjoying a repast outside.

After they finished their food, Baela set down a thick blanket on the grass while Rhaena took a tray and filled it up with fruits, sweets, and drinks. Helaena immediately sat down on the blanket and urged everyone to do the same.

Truthfully, Aegon already wanted to sneak away. It would be easy as none of them would even care to notice his absence. He was all but ready to go, his empty cup set down on the table and his siblings’ and cousins’ attention somewhere else. But then Luke pulled on his sleeve, tugging him toward the blanket on the grass. 

He blinked at his nephew, not even hiding the surprise on his face. Luke didn’t spare him a look as if nothing happened, trudging past him to sit down in the empty space next to Jace.

Clearing his throat, Aegon followed his nephew and sat down next to him. No one seemed to notice them, the rest of the group engaged in a deep discussion about flowers and butterflies, except, of course, for a sole purple eye.

Aemond sat on the other side of Helaena as he always did but his attention was far from the conversation in front of him. His knuckles were white, his jaw twitching, as Luke shifted uncomfortably beside Aegon.

Aegon couldn’t help but snort, sending a smirk toward his brother, who only could do nothing but stare a little more. He grabbed himself a drink, hiding his widening smile behind his cup. All the while, Luke tried to look interested in whatever Jace was saying.

It took a long time before Aemond became aware of what he was doing, blinking and turning his head away, the faintest flush coloring his ears. Aegon looked at his nephew only to find him staring at Aemond, and the chuckle died in his throat.

“Stop making sheep’s eyes at my brother,” Aegon whispered into Luke’s ear.

Luke’s cheeks reddened despite the frown on his face. “I am absolutely not doing that,” he hissed.

Aegon could barely fight the laugh in his throat. “Unlike my brother, you do know well that I have two eyes, right?”

“Shut up,” Luke grumbled.

Their little exchange caught Jace’s attention, who looked at them with confusion and worry on his face. Though with just one smile from Luke, Jace reluctantly went back to listen to Helaena’s tales.

Leaning in once more, Aegon whispered, “Listen. You told me you want to seduce my brother, right?”

Luke turned his head to give him a glare. After that night in Aegon’s room, Luke did admit that he wanted to make Aemond come to him—to properly seduce him as he had said with quivering lips and meek eyes, the image too innocent for his words.

Although Aegon had been the one to ask it, his nephew’s answer buried a sharp annoyance in him all the same. Aemond had been given the opportunity—an easy and open one at that—he already had his chance. But here Luke was, willing to learn things not befitting of a prince so Aemond could just give in.

His brother was like a princess being courted, and Luke, a bastard prince, had to go through trials to gain his hand. Aegon could only click his tongue, shaking his head at how ridiculous all of it was.

If it were his decision, he would steer his nephew away from his brother, tell him that he should probably find someone else. But Aegon had offered, and Luke had accepted with those wet brown eyes of his. 

Besides, who was Aegon if not a helpful uncle?

Aegon licked his lips. “Here’s your first lesson, nephew. Stop looking at him.” 

Luke stared at him, brow furrowed in confusion, but before he could speak, Aegon beat him to it. 

“Don’t show him that you want him.”

That seemed to confuse his nephew further, mouth opening and closing. “What? But how—but how am I supposed to show him that I… you know?” Luke made a vague gesture, eyes flicking toward the others to make sure they weren’t listening.

“The goal is not to show him that you want him. Gods, you’ve already shown that enough but unfortunately for you, my brother has one eye.” Aegon ignored the glare that Luke sent him at the mention of Aemond’s lack of eye as he continued. “Now, your goal is to seduce him. That means he’s the one who’ll have to come to you, not the other way around.”

Determination crossed Luke’s face as he nodded, taking in Aegon’s words. “What am I to do then?”

Aegon smiled. “Don’t look at him. Avoid him as much as possible.”

“Why? I don’t understand.”

Of course, Luke didn’t understand. Despite harboring these feelings toward Aemond, he didn’t truly know him yet. 

Luke was quite unaware that Aemond’s stares were not out of grudge. He didn’t realize that Aemond’s attention was on him just as much as his attention was on Aemond. Luke didn’t know that he didn’t really need to seduce Aemond—he only needed to push, really, keep antagonizing him—but Aegon wasn’t going to tell him that. 

It wouldn’t be fun if everything fell into place so fast.

He took a quick glance at the others. Rhaena was laughing at something Baela had said. There was a sound of confusion from Helaena while Jace was trying to explain what it was all about. Aegon didn’t bother to know what they were even laughing at—it was definitely something lame.

Aemond, to his credit, was trying his damndest to look interested by what was happening. Though the way he sat, his body turned in another direction, already gave away where his attention truly lay. Even though his brother’s gaze was still fixed on the others, Aegon knew for a fact that he was watching Luke sitting prettily beside Aegon in his peripheral vision.

It was a wonder how Aemond had not exploded yet the way he did when they trained. 

“Luke, where’s your cup?” Aegon asked.

His nephew seemed taken aback by the sudden question, but he gave Aegon his cup nonetheless. With practiced hands, Aegon swiftly poured Luke wine and gave it to him.

Luke brought the drink to his nose. “This is not watered down, is it?”

“No,” Aegon said, grinning. “What? I thought you could handle your alcohol?”

“I can,” Luke hissed like a cat, dark eyes narrowing. He then looked at his cup with a frown, hands gripping it tightly. Slowly, he brought the drink to his lips, and Aegon watched, his chest constricting, as Luke swallowed every last drop of the liquid, throat bobbing and face twisting.

When Luke pulled his cup away, Aegon leaned in to whisper again. “Don’t wipe your lips with the back of your hand.”

Luke paused for a moment before nodding. He set down his now empty cup on the ground and looked up at Aegon.

And now Aegon felt his throat becoming drier than the deserts of Dorne.

The wine had stained Luke’s lips, red and swollen as if someone had bit them so hard they bled. Aegon’s gaze trailed after the drop of wine on the corner of his nephew’s lips, threatening to dribble down his chin.

Aegon wasn’t lying when he said that he was going to teach his nephew how to seduce his brother. Sure, he withheld information when it suited him, but he wasn’t an oathbreaker. 

Besides, he prided himself on his vast experience and knowledge in this kind of matter. He had a reputation to uphold. He knew what was going to happen, and he knew exactly what he was going to instruct his nephew to do.

It was easy. He already saw it in his head. Aemond was an observant creep and Luke oozed with innocence. There was no doubt that Aemond would be watching Luke lick the remnant of wine on his lips, and there was no doubt that Aemond would lose his mind over the sight.

Though Aegon didn’t tell his nephew to do that. In fact, he didn’t tell Luke anything at all.

Instead, he brought his own hand to Luke’s face and pressed his thumb on those plump lips. 

Luke watched him with wide eyes, lips parting as Aegon’s thumb swiped across. The mixture of wine and spit was sticky on the pad of his skin, but it didn’t matter. 

Nothing else mattered as he felt the hitch of Luke’s breath against his hand.

Aegon knew he was far from being drunk. The years of living off these beverages had built his great tolerance for alcohol. He would need more than a few cups to even feel the slightest haze in his head.

And yet, as he continued to stare at his nephew, he could feel his sobriety elude him. He had lost sense of his limbs, his fingers having a mind of their own. Before he knew it, his hand was in front of his face and he was licking at his own thumb.

The rich flavor of the wine burst on his tongue. It seemed sweeter than the liquid in his own cup; even more potent than any drink he had in his entire life, so much so that his head started to swim instantly.

Luke’s eyes were glazed, liquid and moving like dark honey. Aegon wanted to know what his nephew was thinking. He wanted to know if Luke would take in his thumb if he were to put it back again on his lips.

He needed to know.

But then, there was a loud clearing of one’s throat, so deep and animalistic like a growl. Everyone stilled immediately, words dying out their tongues. 

The flush on Luke’s face was instant, his cheeks and ears turning as red as the wine he had drank. He pulled away, blinking, biting his already-tinted lips. As Aegon shifted away from Luke, he caught a glimpse of Aemond’s murderous gaze.

Jace’s eyes immediately widened in surprise when he turned to them. The girls only blinked at them but were not less surprised. “Luke, are you drinking?”

Luke frowned and then schooled his features as he realized that the cup was still in front of him. “Uh, yeah. I was just trying it out.”

Aegon only smiled when Jace pointedly looked at him. “How many cups have you had?” he asked Luke.

“Just one.”

There was a look of suspicion on Jace’s face but then he nodded when he saw how genuine Luke’s eyes were. Jace sighed and patted his brother on the shoulder. “Don’t drink too much, alright? Your face is already red after one cup.”

“Of course.” 

The blush on Luke’s face went a deeper shade of red. He licked his lips, and Aegon looked away, the image engraved in the back of his head a thousandfold. His thumb seemed to burn by his side.

When the others finally went back to their conversation, Luke turned to him all too eagerly with a meek smile.

“Did it work?” Luke whispered.

For a moment, Aegon wondered what in the gods’ name his nephew was talking about, but he remembered why exactly he was in this position right now; why his brother continued to glare at them across the blanketed grass.

He was certain that a murderous gaze wasn’t the reaction one would hope for in seduction but Aegon couldn’t bring himself to care. 

A thin-lipped smile crossed his face. “Of course, it did.”

Luke perked up. It was such a small movement that he almost missed it, but it was there. His nephew was truly elated about this. 

“So?” Luke asked. “What’s the next lesson?”

During the course of their luncheon, Aegon gave Luke instructions, sharing with his nephew wisdom that absolutely drove Aemond mad. 

It was entertaining, almost like a play except Luke was the only character worth watching. Like an adept mummer, his nephew pulled the audience in with his acting; he didn’t even need words to aid him. He did all these sorts of actions at Aegon’s behest and he did them without a flaw as though it wasn’t his first time doing them. 

He fluttered his long eyelashes, sipping more wine to lick his lips, and even improvised on his own, tilting his head back to expose his porcelain neck, smooth and lithesome.

What Aegon liked the most, however, was when Luke ate a lemon cake in the sultriest yet innocent way he had ever seen before licking the sugar off his fingers.

Lucerys was a natural. It shouldn’t be a surprise considering who his mother was—Luke was bound to be like his mother just as he was to be like his father. His nature would always come back to that: equal parts savage bastard and whore. That was what made him, that was who he was.

Though there were moments when Luke would slip into something else when he thought no one was looking. He was not the wanton who was trying to seduce Aegon’s brother, but not the feral, dark-eyed animal either. 

Instead, there was a strange tenderness to him. Aegon knew his nephew to be a meek little thing at times, but this was different. It was too serene. It was unlike for a spawn of his half-sister, a son of Breakbones, now a child of the Rogue Prince. Not even Helaena could elicit so much calmness around her.

Wild? No. Unpredictable. Still very much yes.

Aegon leaned back and continued to watch his nephew as he sipped his drink.

Over the course of the following days, Luke was always found in Aegon’s company, much to Aemond’s annoyance and Jace’s worry. Aegon didn’t speak on it, allowing his nephew to trail after him like a lost child. As always, Ser Erryk would follow them, thankfully still keeping his distance.

It reminded him of when they were children, of the times when Aegon strutted with the power of being the eldest while his nephew trotted after him. 

Although his name was forgettable as a kid, Luke’s voice wasn’t. He had been the most talkative of them all, always blabbering about horses and dragons and games that Aegon didn’t care about. He could hear it still: Luke’s childish puny voice, whining about going to his lessons.

But it seemed Luke had grown to be quieter than he had been as a young child. There were no words of complaint as he followed Aegon on mindless strolls. Despite his curious nature, he wouldn’t say a word unless spoken to. He would just stay silent, his light footsteps more than enough to let Aegon know that he was there.

Amusingly enough, the reason for Luke’s presence now was a bit similar to when they were children. Luke had followed Aegon back then for being the wise, older kid, and now he was following him for having the knowledge he didn’t have.

Not even a single comment was made when Aegon was supposed to be teaching his nephew how to seduce his brother but instead was doing nothing of the sort. Luke was patient, and he looked like he didn’t mind it at all. 

He wasn’t in a hurry. Aegon wasn’t in a hurry. They had plenty of time.

Or so he thought.

“What happened to you now?” Aegon asked.

They were in Aegon’s chamber. The bottle of wine on the table had been half-emptied by him hours prior to Luke’s arrival. His nephew rejected it when he offered the drink, which meant more wine for him. Though he hadn’t touched his cup since Luke sat at the table, looking all dejected.

Luke bit his lip. “Perhaps I’m mistaken.”

Aegon frowned. “About what?”

“About Aemond.”

The mere mention of his brother’s name had Aegon sitting up from the settee where he lay. “What did my brother do now?”

“That’s the thing. He did nothing,” Luke said, sighing exasperatingly. “I have done everything you’ve taught me. I wore these lavish doublets even if they itched my arms. I always ensured to cross paths with him. Alone. I even had Rhaena braid my hair to look different, but nothing! Nothing has happened.”

Aegon only hummed as Luke leaned back against his seat, shoulders sagging. 

“Maybe someone has already caught his heart,” Luke muttered. “A highborn lady? A knight, perhaps?”

His nephew, perhaps? Aegon bit his tongue to stop himself from retorting. He took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of his nose. “There’s no one.”

“How would you know? You and Aemond are not fond of each other.”

Aegon rolled his eyes at the jab. “Yes. We are not. But I do know my brother and you don’t. Trust me, if my brother is cuntstruck, I would know.”

I already know.

With this, Luke sighed again. He crossed his arms, lips pressed into a thin line. There was a faint crease on his forehead, contorting his otherwise peaceful features.

“I know that he looks,” Luke said. “I can always feel his gaze upon me, but he hasn’t made a move. Perhaps… perhaps I mistook that gaze for something else. I have already approached him first, and I have tried to entice him, but nothing has happened. He’s clearly not interested.”

Humming, Aegon tapped lightly against his chin. “Luke, you may be naive—”

“I am not naive!”

“You are,” Aegon said firmly. “But you are not stupid—that title belongs to my brother alone—and you know that Aemond is far from being not interested. You already said it yourself, you could always feel his gaze on yourself.”

“Because maybe he watches my every move so he can plan my demise,” Luke spat.

“Perhaps.” Aegon grinned, cocking his head when Luke scowled. “Or perhaps your ways need improvements.”

Luke scoffed. “They’re your ways. You taught them to me.”

“But I’m not the one doing them. Much of this relies on how you perform, nephew. Mayhaps you are lacking.”

It was a farce, Aegon was going to admit that. He hadn’t seen his nephew in action the past few days but he didn’t need to. Their first lesson in the gardens was enough proof that his nephew wasn’t the problem. His brother was.

Though that didn’t mean Aegon was going to leave it at that. There was always room for improvement.

Aegon sat properly and gestured at his nephew. “Stand up.”

Luke blinked at him. “Why?”

“Just stand up. Let me look at you.”

The tips of Luke’s ears reddened as he went on his feet. “What now?”

Aegon leaned forward, his elbows resting on his thighs as he looked at his nephew. He was wearing a doublet, one with intricate patterns in the colors of sea green. Ever since his status as the heir to Driftmark was reaffirmed, Luke had been wearing clothes in the colors of House Velaryon quite often rather than the usual colors of the Targaryens.

The colors suited him well enough, but Aegon thought the black and red of their house brought his dark eyes out more. 

Luke’s breeches snugly fit his legs, making him taller than usual. It was evident that the garment was more for appearances than function. Luke was fortunate they didn’t have training today.

Aegon beckoned his nephew with a finger. “Come here.”

A protest was about to come out of Luke’s lips but Aegon only raised an eyebrow at him. Letting out a sigh, Luke strode until he was in front of Aegon.

With their closer proximity, Aegon noticed that his nephew was actually wearing a necklace. A thin chain of silver with a small aquamarine pendant hung loosely around his neck but was barely seen among the patterns of the doublet.

“Closer,” Aegon said.

Luke’s eyes widened but nevertheless, he shifted closer, his breath deepening just a bit. Aegon looked up at his nephew, who only stared at him with curiosity and apprehension.

Slowly, Aegon brought his hand up near Luke’s neck. He waited for Luke to move, to take a step back, but he remained there. So Aegon continued and took the collar of his doublet in his hands, only for Luke to grab his wrists.

“What are you doing?” Luke hissed, frowning.

“Unbuttoning your doublet,” Aegon answered.

Luke’s face twisted into shock and his grip on Aegon’s wrists became so tight that he had to stop. “Why?” 

Aegon clicked his tongue. “Your clothing was a fine choice. But, it needs a little bit of alteration.”

“And by alteration, you mean unbuttoning it?” The frown appeared again on Luke’s face, but underneath it all, the curiosity never went away. It was there still, bubbling and glowing, ready to spread out.

“Yes. Just a little, to show more of your neck and chest, that’s all.”

There was a tiny pause as Luke thought about his words. His grip on Aegon’s wrists was unrelenting, unmoving, unsure whether to keep them there or to push them away. “To show more of my neck and chest? Like how women do?”

Blinking in surprise, Aegon huffed. “It seems you’re not that naive, nephew.”

“I’ve heard it from Rhaena and Baela. They’ve talked about it,” Luke grumbled.

“Of course, you’ve heard it from your step-sisters,” Aegon said, chuckling.

Luke rolled his eyes despite the flush spreading on his cheeks. “I don’t know why you’d have me do this. I’m not a woman.”

“No, you’re not,” Aegon said affirmingly. “But both men and women are dominated by the same primal desires. People like to see some skin. It shows a foretaste of what one could have. Tempting but not revealing.”

His nephew swallowed visibly. “And you, uncle? Do you have that same desire as well?”

Aegon paused, intrigued eyes flickering up at his nephew. His lips stretched slowly as they were pulled into a lopsided smirk. “What do you think, Luke?”

With a shaky breath, Luke let go of his wrists slowly. Aegon didn't move for a moment, letting his hands hang in the air, fingers itching to grab the doublet, waiting if Luke would finally pull away. 

Luke’s gaze settled on him, brown eyes glowing brighter than ever. They seemed to speak to Aegon, whisper at him with words that he couldn’t even decipher.

His hands were steady as he finally took a hold of Luke’s collar. The cloth of the doublet felt warm against his touch, silky and heavy between his fingertips. Although Aegon had been mostly at the receiving end in this situation, his digits still moved with practiced ease.

A hitched breath cut through the silence as the first button was undone. Aegon glanced at Luke, finding his nephew still looking down at him with honey-glazed eyes. He continued.

The second button was unfastened just as swiftly as the first. Luke remained as still as a statue as Aegon’s hands smoothed out the collar, opening them a little more, the porcelain skin underneath finally peeking out. 

Cold fingers grazed against warm skin. Aegon felt the intense shiver that ran through Luke’s body as though it was his own. He could almost taste it, his lips parting for a breath he didn’t even know he was holding.

With the collars pushed back, Luke’s collarbone could now be seen. Not all, but just enough to entice.

Tempting but not revealing.

The thin silver chain around Luke’s neck shone better, the aquamarine pendant contrasting against the smooth chest. Aegon held it, turning it in his fingers, the faint light from the windows glinting against the colored stone.

“It’s a gift,” Luke said, voice hoarse as if he had been parched for days. He cleared his throat. “From my grandsire Corlys, a few years back.”

Aegon’s instant thought was to make a comment about the Sea Snake not really being his nephew’s grandsire, but his own tongue seemed heavy and dry in his mouth. He gave a hum instead, nodding along.

He placed the pendant lightly from where it was pressed on Luke’s chest and immediately pulled his hand back, his skin burning even hotter than when he caressed Sunfyre’s throat.

“There you go,” Aegon said with a tight smile, leaning away.

Luke blinked a few times, took a deep breath, and stepped away. His eyes were wide with a little fire and wildness in them, and his dry lips were parted just a tiny bit.

He blinked some more before looking down at his doublet. It should be a funny sight. His nephew looked like an idiot while he tried to see the state of his garment, but Aegon’s laughter was all caught up in his throat.

“How does it look?” Luke asked.

“Why don’t you take a look?” Aegon said, jerking his chin in the direction of the mirror.

Without a word, Luke scrambled to the corner of the room and found the mirror. He stood there, face morphing into a look of awe as he stared at his reflection.

Aegon stood up from his seat and sauntered behind his nephew. “See? It’s better, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Luke breathed out, straightening his doublet out. “Yes, it is.”

“Now, go. You have a task to do,” Aegon said, waving a hand.

Luke turned around to face him, a wide smile spreading his crimson-tinted cheeks. “You have my gratitude, uncle.”

Aegon grinned back, but the movement made his cheeks numb. “You are most welcome, nephew.”

The next day, Luke informed him immediately of their success with what Aegon did to his doublet. His face was red, his breathing hard as though he had just ran leagues.

“Uncle, it worked!”

Of course, it did. Aegon’s brother may be a virginal fool but he was still a man, and no man could resist an alluring sight like their nephew.

Aegon’s eyebrows rose. “Really? What did he do?”

“He approached me,” Luke said with a beam. “And he did not antagonize me. In fact, he did the same thing you did.”

That had Aegon freezing like the Wall. “What do you mean? Did he unbutton your doublet as well?”

“No!” Luke shook his head vehemently, eyes widening and blood rushing to his face. 

For reasons unknown, the admission was a relief to Aegon's ears. “What then?”

“He took my pendant in his hand. Observed it the way you did,” Luke said.

“I see.” 

Aegon wasn’t going to lie, that had been more than what he expected of his brother. Though again, Luke with that necklace and doublet of his was difficult to resist. 

Luke took his hand and squeezed it. The smile on his face hadn’t faded away and only began to burn brighter. “Thank you again, uncle.”

This time, Aegon could only smile back, noticing that his nephew’s doublet had its first two buttons undone. His fingers itched yet again, but he fought the urge and had them stilled by his side.

It wasn’t long before Luke left and Aegon was all alone again.

+ + +

To Aegon’s surprise, Luke’s presence only became more constant.

Sword training with his brother and his nephews had become onerous as of late. Ser Erryk was now strict on them, still no harsher than Ser Criston had been, but it was exhausting all the same. 

After such times, Aegon longed to rest in his quarters but Luke would always follow him. He couldn’t really bring it to himself to send his nephew away. He would be lying if he said he didn’t grow accustomed to his nephew’s company. Sometimes, he even found it more bearable than his cups. Though he wouldn’t certainly say that out loud.

Aegon often wondered if Rhaenyra and Daemon even knew where their little Luke had been going throughout the day. Jace and the others definitely knew, having seen him and Luke after their training, and Aegon wondered why no one had tattled at this point.

He knew his reputation well; the whispers they told about him. No protective mother such as Rhaenyra would let her precious son be around with him alone. Sometimes, Aegon would look behind them, expecting his uncle to come out of the shadows and put Dark Sister against his throat.

Though his time with Lucerys had been peaceful so far. Just two princes, mindlessly exploring the corridors that they had already committed to memory long before.

Usually, Aegon would be the one to lead his nephew on their walks, just letting his feet take them wherever. If not to his bedchamber then to a deserted room somewhere in the castle. Aegon would have a little bit of his wine while Luke only sat, either watching him with curious eyes or pondering by himself.

This time, however, Luke took him by his hand as soon as their training finished. For a moment, Aemond looked like he was about to storm after them, but then he seemed to remember himself and glared at them from a distance instead.

For the first time in a long while, Aegon found himself in the library of the Keep. If he was going to be honest, he would rather be somewhere else but his nephew proved to be relentless, his grip on Aegon’s hand not pulling away as he dragged him.

When they arrived at the library, Luke let go of his hand and went to dive into the rows of shelves to find a book. Aegon felt his hand itch, suddenly feeling cold.

Sitting on a chair, legs propped up on the table, Aegon couldn’t really fathom why he was still there, watching his nephew read an old tome, its covers fraying at the edges. He didn’t know why Luke even took him there, knowing he had no taste in such activities.

The rustle of a page turning was the only sound he could hear. Somewhere in the library, he knew that there must be a maester lingering around and Ser Erryk was probably waiting outside, but it felt like he and his nephew were alone.

He sucked in a breath. “What are we doing here, Luke?”

Luke paused, page halfway turned in his fingers. He looked at Aegon, blinking. “Spending time together?”

Aegon wanted to snort so he did. Luke frowned at him. “Is that what we’re doing? Really? You’re buried in your tome and I’m watching over you like a guard here.”

“You’re not a guard, uncle. A guard wouldn’t sit the way you do,” Luke said, rolling his eyes. He let go of the page and leaned back on his seat. “If you want, you can also grab a book and read.”

There was a slight pull on the corner of Luke’s lips. Aegon shook his head, chuckling. His gaze fleeted toward the opened tome on the table. “I honestly didn’t take you for a scholar, nephew. That seemed to be your older brother’s thing, being the firstborn and all.”

“Well, we don’t choose our destiny, uncle. It chooses us.”

Every time Aegon thought his nephew couldn’t get any more unpredictable, he was always proven wrong.

Luke, for all the wildness in his eyes, didn’t seem like a boy who would say such serious words. But then again, Aegon didn’t really know his nephew that much apart from the fact that he was a curious, naive little thing; that he could be a feisty beast if provoked; that he desired Aemond and was willing to learn the arts of seduction.

Aegon didn’t know anything about destiny. It seemed something that his younger brother would read about in his books. Though Aegon knew of duty and responsibilities that he didn’t choose. Unlike Luke’s destiny, however, those things didn’t choose him. They were chosen by Mother and Grandfather and shoved into his arms.

He let out a deep breath and put his feet back on the floor. “Are you not supposed to be in your lessons?”

Luke stilled, lips pressed into a thin line. “Perhaps.”

There were times when Luke had to go to his lessons. Being the heir to Driftmark had not escaped him, especially after the recent trial of succession. Aegon knew very well that on a day like this, Luke was supposed to be with a maester and not with him. He was supposed to be learning the ways of being the Lord of the Tides and not spending time with his uncle. 

Yet here they were, hiding in the library where no one would look for Aegon, and since he was seen leaving with Luke earlier, they wouldn’t dare to look for his nephew in here either.

“You could be quite clever,” Aegon said with a huff.

“Really?” 

“Yes. I almost believed your ‘spending time together’ act.”

“We are spending time together,” Luke said indignantly.

Aegon raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“If you’re that bored of me, uncle, you can leave.”

Bored of his nephew? Aegon wasn’t quite sure he was capable of that. At least, not yet. 

He rolled his eyes and leaned forward, looking at the pages of the tome. “You elude your lessons and yet you read this.”

“It’s different,” Luke said. “It’s not about politicking. It’s the history of Old Valyria.”

Of course, Luke would have the same odd interests as Aemond. Shaking his head, lips pulled into a sneer, Aegon asked, “Do you even understand our ancestors’ mother tongue?”

Luke glowered at him. He tilted his chin up and in perfect High Valyrian, he said, “Nyke gaomagon, qȳbor.” Then he switched back to Common Tongue. “How about you?”

Aegon grinned, tilting his head to the side. “Skoros gaomagon ao pendagon, Lucerys?”

He couldn’t hold back his laughter any longer as Luke’s eyes widened, lips parting and closing with soundless words. It took a while before Luke could gather himself.

“You understand?” Luke asked. “I mean, your pronunciation could be better but you truly understand High Valyrian?”

“Of course, I do,” Aegon said with a snort. “I’m a Targaryen prince, nephew.”

“I… I didn’t expect that of you.”

Aegon couldn't afford to be offended. His nephew’s words were sincere. Truthfully, he didn’t know if he’d truly learn the language if his mother didn’t impose all those lessons upon him. Nevertheless, even with butchered pronunciation according to his nephew, learning High Valyrian had its own merits, especially when it came to dragon-riding.

Luke closed the tome and turned so he was properly facing Aegon. “Do you have anyone you talk to in High Valyrian?”

“No,” he answered. As far as Aegon knew, his other siblings also knew how to speak it, especially Aemond. Though he didn’t really fancy talking to them in the Common Tongue, let alone in their ancestors’ mother tongue.

“Oh,” Luke said. “Shall we talk in High Valyrian then, uncle?”

It turned out that Aegon had a limited vocabulary of the language. 

Luke was a patient teacher as he was a patient student. Whenever there was a word Aegon didn’t know the meaning of or didn’t know how to pronounce, he would explain and speak the word until Aegon perfected it.

Although sociable, Aegon wasn’t keen on holding long conversations. He was used to dictating the flow of these things, fast-paced and short, not even letting the others speak. He had never been good in other activities but when it came to verbalities, he’d fancy himself master of it.

With Luke, however, discussions were very prolonged, jumping from every topic possible, as his nephew seemed to not run out of things to say.

The mask of the quiet boy had slipped and here was the boy full of curiosities and wonders. It felt like Aegon was once again with a young Luke, who blabbered about all sorts of things that Aegon had no idea about. 

Back then, Aegon didn’t pay much heed to his nephew; now, he couldn’t do so much as take his eyes off despite his lack of genuine interest in whatever Luke was saying.

Oddly enough, Aegon found that tenderness again as he listened to his nephew. 

He had always found comfort in the tranquility of his cups, but this was different. It was too quiet and peaceful, and although he craved the chaos within his nephew, this was tolerable.

Aegon didn’t know if it was good or bad.

+ + +

Hours had passed before Luke excused himself, saying something about attending to his brothers. Aegon waved him dismissively and watched him walk away with the large tome hugged against his chest.

It was still too early to go into the city so Aegon either had to venture onto a princely duty of his own or to just spend the rest of the afternoon wallowing with a stolen wine bottle. It was obvious which of the two he had chosen.

Ser Erryk continued to follow him with a watchful eye, and truthfully, Aegon rather felt like he was a prisoner in such a state. 

A prisoner with access to the cellar, but a prisoner nonetheless.

“My prince, you cannot be here,” Ser Erryk said as they turned to the area of the cellar. His voice didn’t give away any signs of emotion but Aegon knew the knight would scowl if he could. “If the Queen sees you—”

He snorted. “My mother will not see me, nor will my grandfather. In fact, they haven’t seen me as of late.”

“Indeed. I haven’t seen much of you as of late, my grandson.”

Aegon hated how his whole body froze immediately. A shuddered breath ran through him, eyes squeezing shut. When he opened them again, he turned around and found his grandfather looming like the ominous figure that he was.

It had been days since Aegon last encountered his Mother and his Grandfather, and even during those times, their interactions were limited to simple greetings. It was foolish of him to even think that it would stay that way for the rest of the turn. 

A taut smile stretched his lips. “Grandsire.”

His grandfather only regarded him for a short moment before turning to the Kingsguard behind him. “Ser Erryk, you may leave us,” he said.

Ser Erryk nodded at once and turned away. As his footsteps faded away, Aegon could feel his limbs go cold. He wouldn’t even deny that his mother was terrifying when she could be. His grandfather, however, was a different story altogether. 

“Come,” Grandfather said with a nod.

Breathing deeply, Aegon followed his grandfather without a word, already knowing where their destination would be.

The last time Aegon had been in the Tower of the Hand was right after Rhaenyra whisked her entire family away to Dragonstone. He could remember that dreadful day like it was only yesterday.

He could still hear the words that set his path in stone—his duty and responsibility shoved into his trembling hands. A small part of him thought it would all be pried away now that his half-sister was back.

A rather childish thinking, he thought as they entered the Hand’s private audience chamber.

“Sit,” his grandfather said, the door to the chamber closing with a low thud.

Aegon did as he was told while his grandfather sat at the desk, his hawk eyes never leaving him. 

Otto Hightower was a man of intellect and authority. There was not a doubt that Aegon’s grandfather was the man most fitted to be the Hand; to be the ruler in the King’s stead. The power in his words, even if through quills and ink, was something that Aegon could only dream of having.

The power in his hands, on the other hand, as he dragged a young Aegon from his cups was something Aegon could never forget.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

“How have your duties fared as of late, my prince?” Grandfather asked, voice clear and steady.

Aegon fought the frown threatening to morph his face. His grandfather only ever called him by his royal titles to remind him of what he was supposed to do. “It’s uh… it’s been well.”

“That’s good, that’s good,” his grandfather said with a nod. “Having a close relationship with your kin is very much needed especially given our late circumstances.”

“Of course.”

Grandfather smiled and a shiver ran down Aegon’s entire being. He had never liked talking to his grandfather but there was something even eerier with their discussion now.

“Do you enjoy it, my prince?”

“What?” Aegon said slowly, blinking.

“Do you enjoy mingling with your nephews?”

He sucked his teeth, trying to hide his grimace. “No. They’re rather annoying actually,” he said with a dry laugh.

“Good,” his grandfather said. There was a brief silence and then the two dark eyes in front of him narrowed ever so slightly. “Though I’ve seen you spending more time with your nephew Lucerys as of late.”

For the second time that day, Aegon found himself frozen. 

He had never encountered his grandfather in the past few days. Though of course, that didn’t mean that his grandfather couldn’t follow what he did and where he went. He was the Hand; he had eyes everywhere. 

If Aegon could bet on it, he’d wager that it was Ser Erryk who ran his mouth. He had noticed how the Kingsguard and his twin were on Grandfather’s beck and call. Besides, it was only he who was constantly around whenever Aegon and Luke were together.

“Y-Yes,” Aegon croaked out. “The runt has made it a habit of following me everywhere.”

His grandfather hummed. “Quite an inconvenience, I assume.”

Aegon could only nod. Grandfather’s eyes had never left him, and they were piercingly cold and calculating.

“It must be difficult for you, my prince, having to entertain Rhaenyra’s bastard. The one who mutilated your brother.” Grandfather tilted his head to the side, eyes studying him as Helaena would do to her insects. “But you must endure it.”

This time, Aegon couldn’t fight the frown on his face. “Why?”

“Your familiarity with Lucerys can be useful to us,” his grandfather said as though his words were so simple.

“Useful,” Aegon repeated, the word rolling off his tongue strangely. He had never heard him and that word in the same breath before.

“Yes. It’s been a while since Rhaenyra and Daemon arrived in the castle. We know their intention but the details of their schemes have yet to be discovered.” 

Aegon’s eyebrows rose. “You mean—you want me to be a spymaster of some sort.”

Grandfather pursed his lips. “No. Being a spymaster requires more laborious work. Here, it’s quite simple—you only need to be yourself. Entertain your nephew and find out what the Blacks are planning.”

“What makes you think Luke knows anything?” he asked. 

“He’s the current heir to Driftmark. He’d know something.”

Luke was barely interested in matters of politics. The heir to one of the greatest houses in the realm, who would rather hide away with his uncle and read about histories long lost before their time. It was unlikely he was even aware of his mother and his stepfather’s plans. If anything, Jace would be a more suitable target but Aegon didn’t like him as he used to.

Aegon took a deep breath. “And what makes you think Luke would tell me if he knew anything?”

“You can be convincing, Aegon.” Another smile pulled the corners of his grandfather’s lips. “You’ve shown yourself well in court. This will be one of your mere duties as the prince.”

Duty. The word clawed in his throat, bitter and burning.

Aegon had always thought that the arrival of his half-sister, the Realm’s Delight, the Crown Princess, would bring entertainment to the otherwise mundane Red Keep. He had never thought, however, that it would also bring him an unfound peace; a genuine quietude to his status as a prince.

The past few days had been the longest time that Aegon went without his responsibilities. He was merely a prince, enjoying his time; a man having his piece of freedom.

Yet it seemed that everything would be going back to this. 

His grandfather, his mother, his duties.

Duties that he didn’t care about. Responsibilities that shouldn’t be his in the first place.

Aegon didn’t feel his body move. The next thing he knew, he was on his feet and his grandfather was looking at him curiously. He opened his mouth to say something, to say anything, but he couldn’t. His throat was still burning.

It felt like that day when he was first reminded of his status as the firstborn prince; of his duties and responsibilities.

Without a word, Aegon went out of the chamber and ran away.

His feet were quick and his mind was a little bit hazy as he got out of the Tower. The sun was setting, the dark sky creeping above, and the warm wind turning cold. It was the perfect time now, and Aegon only had one place in mind.

Not bothering to get his cloak, Aegon turned and walked briskly toward the direction of his favorite part of the castle. 

Though as he turned into a corner, he was once again facing the familiar figure of his nephew.

Grandfather’s voice rang in his head, and Aegon let out a hoarse laugh. “We have to stop meeting like this, nephew.”

Luke laughed as well, scratching the back of his neck. “Indeed, uncle. We always find ourselves in this situation,” he said. His gaze raked down Aegon’s body, a small frown creasing his forehead. “I just came from my brothers’ chambers and I was actually on my way to look for you. Though it seems you’re in a hurry, where are you off to?”

“Why are you looking for me?” Aegon asked instead of giving an answer. “Do you want to know your next lesson, is that it?”

A faint flush crept up Luke’s cheeks. “Well, I think you’re rather busy so…”

Aegon laughed. Of course, Luke was looking for him because of their lessons. “It’s alright. I’m not busy. I’m actually on my way to the Street of Silk.”

He watched as Luke’s eyes widened, the glint of interest just as bright as it had been the first time they found themselves in this situation. It felt like it had been a long time since then—the time Aegon found there was more to his nephew than it seemed—and yet the things he felt were the same still.

The heat spread in his chest rather quickly, purring and crackling. Everything left his mind and only there was Lucerys.

When his nephew didn’t speak, Aegon shrugged. “Perhaps I’ll give you a tour next time. You may not be ready for that part yet.”

He was about to walk away when Luke grabbed his hand. His mouth opened, eyebrows drawing together. Aegon waited patiently for his nephew to gather his words.

“You’re going to the Street of Silk?” Luke asked.

“Yes.”

Luke nodded, swallowing. “I’d like to come with you, uncle.”

Aegon smiled.

And there was that fire, burning brighter and hotter. He wanted more.

Chapter Text

Aegon weaved through the sea of people. The hand in his was hard, tight, and cold that for a moment, it felt like he was holding a stone. He took a quick glance at his nephew, sending him a small smile when he saw his nephew’s brown eyes flickering between apprehension and excitement.

Luke had been outside the castle walls, Aegon knew that well. His nephew had been to the Dragonpit several times for their lessons when they were young. It was also where his nephew had landed on dragonback when they arrived a few weeks prior. Luke wasn’t entirely a stranger to this part of King’s Landing, that much was true, but the city was an entirely different place at night.

The daylight was gone and so was the joviality it brought, replaced by the darkness of the night that painted the capital differently. While the castle basked in its quietness, slumber settling in, the streets outside had turned its skin and became alive. A creature with sharp claws and even sharper teeth; a beast that would eat a person whole if they were not careful.

It had been years since Aegon first stepped outside, clad in a cloak that he stole from a servant and a pouch of coins tucked in his breeches. He hadn’t discovered the secret passageway to the city yet so heading outside had to be done by bribing a simple servant with empty threats and a few coins.

He could remember it clearly. The youthful joy he had upon discovering how vastly different the outside was from the gloomy castle he grew up in. He had thought that wine and occasional revelry were enough, but it didn’t even compare to the life he found in the city. 

Where the Red Keep had lonely walls, the outside world had lively streets. Aegon couldn’t care less about the unpleasant smells and the lack of hygiene practice—it didn’t take him long to get used to that—this merriment should have been in the Keep. This was supposed to be the essence of being royalty, not the lessons and certainly not the duties.

Fire shot out to their right, and Luke yelped, jumping away. Aegon laughed as he pulled his nephew closer to his side. 

“That’s just a fire-breather,” he whispered into Luke’s ear. “You ought to relax, nephew. You ride a dragon that breathes greater fire than this.”

“Arrax doesn’t breathe fire at me, uncle,” Luke hissed but the creases on his face already eased.

Aegon chuckled. “I suppose not.”

The fire breather blew another flame, but this time, in another direction. Luke watched his tricks, the fire dancing in his dark eyes, as his face was occasionally tinted with the orange of the flames. 

“How do they do it? How do they not get burned? Is it magic?” Luke asked in one rush of breath.

“Who knows?” Aegon shrugged. He didn’t pay the fire breather any attention, only watching how Luke’s lips parted in awe as another trick was done. “Maybe he’s truly a firemage, maybe it’s all just a simple trick. Either way, it’s enough to impress the onlookers.”

“It’s beautiful.”

Aegon could not help but smile. Only those with dragon blood would find something so volatile and chaotic like fire beautiful. “Indeed, it is.”

Luke smiled widely and joined the crowd in clapping when the performance ended. Then he turned to Aegon, any worries on his face now gone along with the fire-breather’s flames. Despite the hood of his cloak, Aegon could see the vibrant red adorning his cheeks, the cold air and the excitement heating up his blood.

“So, where to now?” Luke asked, slightly bouncing on the balls of his feet.

Aegon licked his lips. “Before I take you to our destination, let’s go somewhere else first.”

“Where?”

“No more questions, nephew. Just trust me.”

As they traversed further down the streets, Luke struggled to keep up with his pace. His nephew kept slowing down to look at everything they passed by. From the merchants who were selling suspicious things that Aegon couldn’t even name to the random people trying to convince them to read their fate, Luke stared at them with undying awe.

He couldn’t blame his nephew for his behavior. Luke was a curious little thing, an adventurer at heart—Aegon supposed that he and his nephew were kindred spirits in that way. If it were any other day, Aegon would gladly take Luke on a more thorough tour of the capital.

Though right now, they had more important things to do. There were only two destinations in Aegon’s mind. 

Music and raucous laughter spilled from the establishment. Even from afar, Aegon could already hear the endless slurred chatters from the customers, every slosh of drinks when they moved, and of course, the ever-loud, demanding voice of the barmaid, telling everyone to behave themselves lest they get kicked out.

Luke’s grip on his hand tightened as they made their way inside the tavern. The heady scent of sweat and alcohol immediately wafted into Aegon’s nose, and he took a deep breath in as if he was in a field of flowers. 

He didn’t need to look back at his nephew to know that he was scrunching up his nose in disgust. Luke had been sheltered all his life, protected like a little child; he wouldn’t know this kind of thing.

But no more. Aegon had enough of the little sparks that had been sputtering out of his nephew. He wanted the full fire—that dragonfire bubbling underneath his skin. Luke would be made a man, thrown into the deepest pits where he could unleash his fire, and no one would be there to see him. Only Aegon.

Only Aegon.

Pulling Luke closer to him, Aegon led his nephew to the bar. Jeyne was quick to notice them, setting down the tankard that she was wiping. She didn’t seem surprised to see Aegon with someone. After all, it wouldn’t be the first time. Though there was a deep frown that twisted the lines on her face even further.

Aegon grabbed two stools and set them in front of Jeyne. Luke sat down hesitantly, his gaze already traveling across the room. His curls peeked out his hood, and Aegon tucked them under again with a gentle hand. Luke didn’t seem to notice his movement, still admiring the brimming, smelly tavern with glimmering eyes as though the establishment was the grandest castle he had ever seen.

When Aegon turned to Jeyne to order them spiced rum, the barmaid was studying him with sharp eyes. “What?” he asked after telling her their drinks.

Jeyne only stared at him, lips curled slightly in a way they always did when she found Aegon too handful. It was quite odd—that expression only ever appeared when he was well drowned in his bottles. 

“What’s with the face? Shouldn’t you be happy to see your most local patron back?” 

For a moment, the barmaid didn’t say anything, procuring them their tankards. Then her eyes flickered toward Luke. Aegon almost missed it with how quick the movement was, but he knew he didn’t imagine it. Jeyne’s strange silence was proof enough.

Violet eyes squinting, Aegon leaned forward and lowered his voice. “Do you recognize him?”

The barmaid paused. The lack of her geniality made her face dark and as hard as a rock. “What do ‘ya intend to do with him?” she asked, voice quite firm.

Aegon blinked. “So you do recognize him.”

“The boy’s the bloody spitting image of the King’s first wife,” Jeyne said, shrugging. “But only with plain-colored hair and eyes. It’s not difficult to deduce who he is.”

Aegon had never met his father’s first wife though he had heard stories of her beauty and her death. The former would paint his mother’s face with a frown, the latter with the faintest satisfaction in her eyes. Aegon turned to his nephew and found him still sitting, looking around his surroundings with much curiosity. 

He truly had no idea about the beauty of the previous Queen, but his nephew indeed looked out of place in the dingy tavern. He didn’t belong here; not his smell and definitely not his face.

Jeyne set down two tankards in front of him. She didn’t let go of them yet, leaning in to whisper and ask again. “What do ‘ya plan to do with him, little prince?”

“You say it like I’m about to do something despicable,” he said with a snort. “I’m just showing him around the city. Some harmless fun—an uncle bonding with his nephew, that’s all.”

What was usually the barmaid’s warm and welcoming gaze had turned piercing and narrowed. Finally, she let go of the drinks and pushed them toward him. “It seems like you’re not playing with fire anymore. You’re playing with an inferno.”

With one last glance at Luke, Jeyne left them to tend to the other customers. Aegon stared at the empty space where the barmaid stood, her words ringing in his ears. Fire was a natural element for the dragons, but inferno—this was something else. 

Ruthless and uncontrollable. Consuming.

He turned to Luke, who looked back at him innocently, and Jeyne’s voice seemed to whisper in his head.

Inferno. 

Aegon shook the thought away. “Come, nephew, follow me.”

Drinks in their hands, Aegon found a table at the corner of the tavern where there were fewer people. It was discrete and quieter, far from the unwanted ears of the other customers; far from the piercing eyes of the barmaid.

They settled down at the table, sitting across from each other. Luke stared at his drink suspiciously, nose wrinkling when he leaned down to smell it. Aegon laughed before taking a sip of his rum.

“What is this?” Luke asked.

“Spiced rum,” he answered. “It’s quite a popular drink among sailors. You are the next Lord of the Tides, you should familiarize yourself with the ways of your people.”

Luke stared at him, blinking, then there was a small tug at the corner of his lips. “You’re just trying to make me drink, uncle.”

Aegon grinned. “Perhaps, but there’s truth in my words. Attending your lessons is not the only way to prepare for your duty.”

“It seems you know a lot about duty,” Luke said, an eyebrow arching. He hadn’t tasted his drink yet but his hand was still around his tankard, eyeing it from time to time. 

Snorting, Aegon said, “Duty and I mix like oil and water. Have you ever seen one? It’s weird and fascinating whenever maesters try to do it—anyway, enough about that stupidity, that’s not why we’re here. Tonight is about you, my dear nephew. Now, let’s get you drinking.”

Luke chewed on his lip, shifting slightly in his seat. Slowly, he brought the drink up with a steady hand. He didn’t seem nervous, which was already a good start, though he looked a tad bit wary. 

Silence settled in between them. All the chatter and laughter in the tavern seemed to die down as Aegon watched his nephew stare at the drink in his hand like it was the strangest thing he had ever seen. 

Then suddenly, Luke downed the whole tankard in a few big gulps. Aegon was startled in his seat, his own drink halfway to his mouth already forgotten as he watched Luke tilt his head back to drink every single drop of the rum. Luke slammed down the tankard on the table when he was done, his face twisted in disgust.

“Gods, that was vile!” Luke gasped, coughing up.

Aegon blinked at his nephew, words lost in his tongue. He placed his own tankard on the table, not even halfway through it before he roared with laughter. 

“You finished it! I have to say, nephew, I didn’t think you’d be able to stomach a few sips, let alone finish every single drop.”

It was difficult to tell whether the flush on Luke’s face was from the heat of the rum or something else entirely. “Was I not supposed to?” Luke asked with a slight frown.

“You were. I was just surprised to see you drink it that fast,” Aegon said, grinning. A tiny drop of liquid on the corner of Luke’s lips caught his eye and he pointed at it. “You still got rum around here, you should wipe it.”

A sheepish smile formed on Luke’s face. Aegon expected his nephew to wipe his mouth with his hand or even with his cloak. What he truly didn’t expect was for Luke’s tongue to dart out and lick it all away.

There was nothing for Aegon to do but watch the slow, agonizing movement of his nephew’s tongue around his lips. It shouldn’t be so captivating like a chain trying to pull him in and he couldn’t do so much as wriggle out of it.

His eyes traveled upwards, taking the face before him. He had seen Luke many times before; he had studied the lines of his face, the quirks of his lips, and the glint in his eyes. Though under the dim light of the tavern with the noise of the smallfolk muffled around them, it seemed like he was seeing his nephew again for the first time.

Moles flecked Luke’s cheeks, and they were so tiny that they could easily be missed. His nose was a little bit more upturned compared to his brothers with a faint blush coloring the tip of it. Long lashes adorned his eyes, fluttering as he continued to stare at Aegon.

He stilled, a realization dawning upon him. 

Luke was staring at him. He was licking his lips just like Aegon had taught him, his brown eyes staring into Aegon’s violet ones.

Aegon was not oblivious, he was not ignorant. There was a reason why he was the maester and his nephew the student in this little agreement they had. Aegon knew a lot of things. 

He knew what Luke was doing. What he didn’t know, however, was why his nephew was doing it. He didn’t understand. The man Luke desired wasn’t with them; Aemond was far from here. There was no one here but Aegon.

Only Aegon.

In bringing Luke to the tavern and making him drink, Aegon had hoped to draw out the little hesitance left in his nephew and bring forth that fire under his skin. However, it seemed like one drink was enough for Luke. 

Perhaps he really didn’t need one at all.

On the other hand, Aegon felt like he would need a whole barrel of rum.

He stood up abruptly, making the table shake. His tankard fell to the side and its content poured down onto the floor before he could salvage it. His throat felt dry but his drink had been reduced to a pool of mess on the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Aegon held out his hand. Luke stared at it before looking back up at him, eyes filled with confusion.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Aegon smiled. “Come, let’s get out of here.”

Luke stood up and slowly slipped his hand into Aegon’s. Everything felt far away, and all Aegon could hear was the low dribble of his rum to the floor.

Drip.

Drip.

Drip.

A smile stretched Luke’s lips, still wet with rum and spit.

Drip.

+ + +

The slight haze that clouded Aegon’s mind only seemed to worsen. He couldn’t remember much when they left the tavern. The feeling was very similar to whenever he got himself drunk and his cock needed a quick fuck.

The only difference now was that he was nowhere near drunk and he was not alone. His nephew’s hand in his own still felt quite real.

It was evident the moment they stepped to their destination. The streets had turned darker and narrower, and the smell in the air became more overwhelming. Perfumes of every scent from the brothels had mixed, lingering along with the smell of piss and shit. It was quite choking.

There would be people fucking at every alley they passed. Wanton moans and the constant slapping of skin against skin blended in the night. All the while, the rest of the people continued onto their business; such a sight was already common for anyone to heed.

Luke stopped the first time they passed an alley. It was dark, but not dark enough to obscure the man pressing the woman’s face onto the wall as his hips pistoned, his cock thrusting in and out of her, glistening as the length caught the faint light of the streets every time he pulled out. 

“Shouldn’t we help her?” Luke asked. There was a hint of alarm in his eyes but he couldn’t look away at the sight before them.

“She’s in no harm, Luke. At least not in the way she didn’t want,” Aegon whispered. Luke made a sound of confusion, his gaze remaining on the couple. “Watch and listen closely.”

Words slurred out of the man’s lips while the woman whimpered in both pain and pleasure. Her hands reached behind her, grasping and wanting, and pulled the man’s hips closer as to bring him deeper. A loud cry escaped her throat, eyes squeezing shut as her cheeks chafed against the rough wall. When her eyes opened again, they were glazed with rapture.

“See? She’s in it as much as he is,” Aegon said.

Luke finally tore his gaze away from the alley and looked at him. “I don’t understand. Why are they outside? Why are they doing it in front of everyone?”

His nephew spoke as if it was something so scandalous. As someone who grew up in the care of Rhaenyra and Daemon, who both had been rumored to frequent this part of the city, Aegon expected Luke to know a little more about this art of debauchery. 

But then again, Luke had been sheltered too much. Aegon’s half-sister had treated him like nothing was supposed to touch him; like nothing could touch her precious sweet boy.

“Look again,” Aegon said with a jerk of his chin. “The most likely reason is that the man cannot afford a proper brothel and the woman’s services are cheap enough. Or perhaps, the man couldn’t wait for the woman to take him back to a brothel and just decided to take her right there and then. Either way, they’re getting both what they want, and no one gives a fuck about it.”

As if to confirm Aegon’s words, Luke turned his head and looked around them. “No one really pays them any attention? Is this common?” Luke asked, voice dripping with curiosity.

“Yes. Is this your first time seeing people fuck?”

The way Luke’s eyes widened, a flush creeping up his cheeks as he nodded shouldn’t be endearing. Aegon couldn’t help but smile, fixing Luke’s hood to hide his curls.

“Well, you really haven’t seen anything yet,” Aegon said. “There’s much more for you to see.”

Luke’s dark eyes glinted. “There’s much more than this?” 

Aegon’s smile grew wider as he pulled his nephew away. “You have no idea, Luke. You truly have no idea.”

The dark, lavish establishment loomed over them. The faintest of lights pouring out of the windows was warm, almost soft in the darkness of the night. Aegon could already smell the scents inside: the exotic perfumes from the whores, the musk, and the headiness of bodily fluids.

He ushered his nephew inside, the madame immediately noticing them with an arch of her eyebrow. Aegon nodded his head to the side, gesturing for the madame to follow him. 

A heavy pouch of coins was placed on the madame’s hand. Aegon cleared his throat, leaning closer to whisper.

“I trust to have your utmost discretion?”

The madame’s eyes flicker toward Luke for a moment before looking back at Aegon. She nodded, clutching the pouch and keeping it in her robes. “Of course, you were never here. What room will you have tonight?”

“Give me your biggest one,” said Aegon. “And send a manwhore. Preferably tall, slender with a sharp face. Pale-haired too.”

“As you wish,” the madame said. “Wait here a moment while we prepare the chamber for you.”

When Aegon turned to Luke, his nephew was standing in a corner, wide-eyed gaze pinned to the center of the crowded common room where an array of bodies was intertwined, dancing and moving to cacophonous moans ringing in the room. 

Truth be told, the sight before them now was nothing compared to some nights Aegon had been here. As a frequent visitor, Aegon had already seen all of these and more. Though, of course, he understood that for someone like his nephew, being in this establishment, watching people take their pleasure in all kinds of ways, was quite momentous.

His nephew had no knowledge of these matters. He had never even seen what true pleasure looked like until now. At that moment, Aegon wondered what was going on in that head of his.

As expected, Luke’s attention was caught by a particular couple among the interweaving bodies—a man sucking another man’s cock like it was his sole purpose in life. His nephew followed their movements with his curious brown eyes. When the whore moaned, mouth still stuffed with cock and drool dribbling down his chin, Aegon didn’t miss the slight shiver that went down Luke’s spine, his lips parting and curling in the slightest of smiles. 

Luke didn’t seem to mind his immediate surroundings, his eyes still fixed on the couple as other patrons and whores walked past him. Some eyes were drawn to him despite his cloak, hungry and predatory, but they left him alone, to Aegon’s relief. 

Aegon couldn’t really blame them. He, too, would do a double take if he saw such a face in a place like this. The only difference was that he would approach him with unhidden intent; if an opportunity was presented in front of him, he would take it for himself.

He continued to watch as Luke took in everything around him, making sure that his nephew wouldn’t stray far. In the darkness of the whorehouse with only a few candlelights to illuminate the place, Luke’s face was still quite clear to him, eager and bright.

Attention entirely elsewhere, Luke bumped into someone. A man, naked down to his feet, cock hard between his legs. Luke muttered an apology, bowing his head, but the man took his chin and made him look up.

It didn’t even take a second before Aegon was moving with quick strides, not caring about the looks he got from the people he bumped into in the process. He pulled his nephew, casting a protective arm around his shoulder as Luke yelped softly in surprise. The man’s eyes turned dark before widening when he saw Aegon’s face, more so his purple eyes. He immediately bowed his head and went on his way.

Luke was breathing heavily against him, and for a moment, Aegon was prompted to take him outside, but then he saw his nephew’s face clearly. 

“What is this place?” Luke asked, almost breathless.

Aegon pulled his nephew closer until his chest was flushed against the warmth of Luke’s back. “This,” he said, “is a place where people come to take what they want.”

He turned both of them, making sure that Luke could see everything in the room. Every movement, every stroke, every thrust; all of it was in plain sight. Luke’s breath hitched when a woman’s moan resounded through the walls.

“In the near future, you, my dear nephew, will be the Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark,” he continued in a whisper. “That means you will be buried in duties and responsibilities not of your own making. Just imagine the dull tragedy of it.”

The shudder that went through Luke was so intense Aegon could feel it in his own body too. It was a pity, certainly, that his nephew had to be in such a situation. To have all of these expectations upon him. 

“But,” Aegon said, “no matter how tedious it would be, no matter how boring it would be… a duty is not a hindrance to act on one’s desires. It won’t stop us from doing what we want.”

He leaned closer.

“From taking what we want.”

And closer.

“From taking our pleasures.”

A whiff of a familiar floral scent caught Aegon’s nose. He pulled down the hood of Luke’s cloak, the curls springing up and tickling his cheeks. He took a long inhale, the scent branding into his lungs, as his hands traveled down Luke’s waist.

He turned Luke around, a small gasp escaping his nephew’s lips. They stood chest to chest, faces leaning dangerously close to each other.

“And fucking, nephew of mine, is a pleasure.”

Luke’s lips parted, his eyes glinting so brightly in the dark like molten fire. Aegon could feel the thrum of his own heart against his chest, threatening to tear out. He wanted to pull Luke close. He wanted to choke on that flowery scent; he wanted to bathe in that fire.

Inferno, Jeyne’s voice seemed to whisper off the walls.

Aegon didn’t care. He felt the hot breath against his lips, and he leaned in. He saw Luke leaning forward—

“Your room is ready.”

His nephew was the first to pull away, jumping back with wide eyes. Aegon immediately felt cold. He contained the groan that came up his throat.

He turned around and found the madame standing there, watching them with unreadable eyes. “Right,” he said to her with a curt nod. “Show us the way then.”

Taking Luke’s hand in his, they followed the madame through the maze-like corridors of the brothel. He didn’t need to look back to see that Luke’s gaze lingered on the affairs in every room they passed by, the sheer curtains covering the doorways did nothing to hide the sensual movements inside.

Obscene noises reverberated off the walls, their own footsteps like a series of heavy thunder following it. The halls turned darker as they went deeper into the establishment, the walls were now completely scarce of windows.

Finally, they stopped in front of a chamber at the end of the hallway, one with a proper door. The madame gestured to the door and bowed, before walking away.

Luke turned to him, nibbling on his bottom lip. He ran a hand through his nephew’s curls and gave him a reassuring smile.

“Come. Let’s go inside,” Aegon said.

The room was spacious, decorated by a huge bed with lavish pillows and colorful silk curtains and Myrish carpets and ornate tapestries—it was almost on par with some of the chambers in the Keep. Scented beeswax candles burned on the candelabras at the corners, giving ample glow to the otherwise dark room.

A man with pale skin and long, straight pale hair stood at one side of the wall, a linen shift wrapped around his waist to cover his manhood. His face was nowhere near as sharp and regal as Aemond’s, but his build was close enough. Luke seemed to think the same as his breath hitched at the sight of the whore.

The whore gave a small bow but made no move without direct orders. He didn’t even speak. A whore with good manners. The madame chose well enough.

Aegon hummed and turned to face his nephew. Luke’s eyes were quivering as Aegon removed his cloak. Whether it was because of anxiety or fear, Aegon did not know. He took Luke’s chin between his fingers. He did not need to tilt his head the way that man did in the common room, the tiny difference in their height made them stand eye to eye.

“We will take it slow, alright?” Aegon said, to which Luke nodded hesitantly. “I will not have you do things that you don’t want, I assure you that. Now, let me ask you a question. Have you ever been with someone?”

“N-No,” came Luke’s soft answer.

It was the answer that Aegon expected, but he continued on, wanting to hear the words out of his nephew’s lips. Those rose-colored lips that Aegon’s thumb brushed over.

“Have you ever kissed someone?”

Luke shook his head timidly. “No. I don’t know how to.”

“Really?” Aegon couldn’t help but sound surprised. 

He had assumed that everyone had their little explorations during childhood. Aegon had been but a young child when he had his first kiss with a random servant girl—it was chaste and playful, rather an insignificant thing, but a first was a first. Given how curious Luke was, Aegon thought that perhaps his dear nephew would have had that same experience, perhaps with his betrothed, or maybe even his older brother. No matter how much, his nephews still had the blood of the dragon in them.

Once more, Luke shook his head.

Aegon took a shaky breath. He didn’t realize how shallow his breathing had become. How Luke’s breath fanned over his own lips. It would be so easy to close their distance and feel those lips against his. To taste the remnants of spiced rum on his tongue. 

But when he moved ever so slightly, he didn’t miss the slight flinch on Luke’s face. His dark eyes were filled with both hesitance and anticipation. It was a cold reminder that Luke was still but a student eager to learn. Aegon cleared his throat and pulled away.

“Since you have no experience, we will start with you receiving pleasure. You can learn from there. Whore, to the bed,” Aegon said.

Luke frowned, hand unconsciously chasing Aegon’s. He glanced at the whore who now stood by the bed then looked back at Aegon. “What— a-am I to learn with him?”

“Don’t worry. Every whore here is marvelous with their skills. You’re in good hands.” Aegon clasped a hand on his shoulder and went toward the bed. He tapped it, smiling at his nephew. “Come.”

Chewing on his lip, Luke did as he was told. He sat on the bed, eyes never leaving Aegon’s. “What now?” he asked.

“Now, lie down and let him take care of you.” 

Aegon pushed him softly on the shoulder. Luke gasped as his back hit the plush bed, eyes following Aegon as he walked to a corner and pulled a chair to sit in.

He turned his gaze away from Luke and acknowledged the whore again.

“Take care of him. Be gentle,” he told the whore. “Use your hand on him, then your mouth. Give him the greatest pleasure of his life.”

The whore nodded at once, kneeling down on the bed, and hovering over Luke. He moved to lean down and perhaps catch Luke’s lips in his, but Aegon stopped him.

“No. No kissing. You can touch him anywhere but his lips.”

With one more nod, the whore shifted down further from the bed until he was facing Luke’s hips. 

Aegon leaned back in his seat. He had a clear view of Luke’s face, flushed than it had ever been. His chest was moving deeply as the whore’s hands undone the laces of his breeches.

A hiss of breath escaped Luke’s lips as his breeches and underclothes were stripped off him, his cock springing out in the cold air. It was already half-hard, smooth with the red crown of it glistening with sticky fluid. It was a pretty cock, very much befitting of his nephew.

Suddenly, Aegon’s throat felt dry as he watched the whore’s hand wrap around Luke’s cock. It didn’t feel right, but Aegon was  a mere onlooker for now. Luke wanted to learn, and this was the best way to do it.

The whore gave languid strokes to his nephew’s cock. When his wrist twisted, fingers squeezing just lightly around the pretty length, the most delicious sound Aegon had ever heard rang out in the chamber. Aegon couldn’t help the sudden jerk of his hips in the air, his cock filling his own breeches.

It should’ve been expected. Luke, pretty thing as he was, would also make such pretty noises. 

Luke didn’t hold back, he probably didn’t know how to. His breath came in long whines and high moans; his body was writhing, face contorting slightly. 

At this point, Aegon knew his nephew wouldn’t last long. He could feel the bob of his own throat as he swallowed.

“Take him in your mouth,” Aegon said, voice raspy.

The whore, ever obedient, didn’t waste a second to wrapping his lips around Luke’s cock. 

Luke let out a breathless gasp, most of it choked up in his throat, his lithe body jerking and bending in the most beautiful way. He didn’t know what to do with his hands, scrambling and grasping at the silk sheets.

“You can touch him, Luke,” Aegon said. 

His nephew’s fingers were trembling as he ran them through the whore’s pale hair, interweaving softly, before gripping tightly when the whore sucked audibly, saliva slurping in his mouth.

A shuddered breath wracked Luke’s body, so high and sweet and intoxicating. Aegon squeezed his eyes shut, a sharp intake of breath between his teeth as he pulled his cock out. 

He tilted his head back and took the noises in from Luke’s lips, committing each and every single one of them to memory. Every breath Luke took, every moan and every groan and every whine. Aegon devoured all of them.

Aegon spread the slick moisture around the top of his cock and gave his length a few tugs. He hissed just as a loud moan rang out in the room. For a moment, he let himself bask in it, pretending it was for him.

He couldn’t help but open his eyes once more, which might be the best and worst decision he had ever made. 

Because Luke was looking at him.

No, he thought.

Luke was looking at his cock. He was looking at Aegon’s hand stroking his cock, eyes glazed with hunger and lips parted with want, as though there wasn’t a whore sucking him off.

It felt like there was something lodged in Aegon’s throat. He couldn’t stop, and the movement of his hand only seemed to go faster as he watched his nephew watch him.

Then Luke’s eye flicked upwards, dark and sticky like honey, staring right into his eyes. Luke’s mouth parted wider, red tongue peeking out just slightly as if to taste Aegon in the air.

Aegon groaned, squeezing his cock harder. He wished it was that tongue moving along his length and not his hand. He wished those lips were wrapped around his cock, swollen and spit-slicked.

Luke only tore his gaze away when his face contorted in pleasure, eyes blown wide toward the roof. His hips stuttered into the whore’s mouth, his body bowing into a curve like a pulled string. Tight and ready to break.

There was a loud cry shattering in the room, and Aegon immediately let go of his cock as if he was burned. 

His hand was not enough. He needed more.

Aegon went out the door and asked for the nearest whore he could find. It was a woman with long dark hair, though he didn’t look at her face. He didn’t need to. He only needed her mouth.

She eagerly knelt in front of him as he sat back on the chair. Her hand was cold when she wrapped it around his cock, making him hiss and shiver, but the heat of her mouth that came soon after was enough compensation. He sighed, gripping her hair and guiding her with each lick and glide.

Good. This was good. He very much needed this after the awful day he just had. Though Aegon felt like something was still quite missing.

A moment had passed, with only the sucking and slurping noises from the whore resounding in his ears, before Aegon realized that the room had turned quiet. 

Too quiet.

He looked back at Luke, expecting that he was still coming down from his rapture, only to find that Luke was now sitting on the bed, his doublet disheveled and his cock limp on his lap. The whore was at the edge of the bed, head bowed and dejected, patiently waiting for his next orders.

The frown on Luke’s face was enough to make Aegon pause. He gently pushed the whore off his cock.

“What is it?” he asked Luke. “Was his skill not to your satisfaction?”

Luke’s lips twitched then words in High Valyrian smoothly rolled off his tongue. “I don’t like it.”

Aegon blinked. Based on his nephew’s wanton moans, he knew that Luke very much liked it. Nevertheless, Aegon gave him a nod, High Valyrian roughly forming on his own lips. “It’s okay. This is a moment of learning, it is expected. We can find you a more suitable—”

“No,” Luke snapped. “I want them to leave.”

The brightness in Luke’s eyes was different now. The molten fire of pleasure and curiosity was gone, replaced by fire in its rawest form. It was blazing, licking up the walls; a fire that was too fast to control and too big to snuff out.

An inferno.

“Why?” Aegon asked. 

“Just make them leave, uncle.”

Qȳbor. Aegon’s breath hitched at the use of the word.

Some whores, especially those who were originally from Essos, knew the tongue of their ancestors, but the ones with them now remained silent. Whether they were intently listening or were just plainly unaware, Aegon didn’t know. Frankly, he didn’t care either.

“Both of you leave,” Aegon said without so much as looking at the whores.

Obediently, the two of them went out without a word. The door thudded shut behind them and the room plunged into silence.

“Now, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

Luke shifted on the bed, the heat in his eyes hadn’t left. If anything, it only seemed to burn brighter now that they were alone. “You said we were to have our next lesson.”

Aegon nodded slowly. “Yes, and that’s why we’re here. I’m teaching you the basics of things. You’ve now just learned what it feels like to receive pleasure, we are making progress.”

“You weren’t teaching me. You just handed me to that man and decided to have fun on your own,” Luke said with a frown.

All of a sudden, Aegon’s throat felt dry. 

By taking his nephew here for a lesson, Aegon had decided that he would put Luke’s pleasure above his own. Tonight was about Luke. It was the reason why they were in this grand chamber instead of a cramped, dingy room. Why Aegon asked for a whore that vaguely resembled his brother. Why Aegon sat on the side, resorted to watching everything unfold before him.

“Is he really not to your liking?” Aegon asked. When Luke shook his head, he continued. “You could’ve fooled me, dear nephew. You were moaning like a bitch in heat.”

Luke scowled at him. “I wasn’t!”

Aegon couldn’t help but laugh, raspy and empty. “Fine, you weren’t. Tell me then, what was the problem? Do you find him ugly? Was he too fast? Too slow?”

“No,” Luke said softly.

“What then?”

There was a mumble coming from Luke, words too fast and low to be heard. 

“What? Can you repeat that?” Aegon asked.

Flush crept up Luke’s cheeks. “I just thought… I thought you were going to be the one to teach me things. To show me things.”

It took a moment before Aegon fully took his nephew’s words in, his mouth opening and closing. Luke had already turned his head away, avoiding his gaze, when Aegon found the words on his tongue. “So, do you want me to suck you off instead? Is that what you want?”

The glare that Luke sent him was sharp but not quite sharp enough. “Don’t mock me.”

“I am not mocking you,” Aegon said, chuckling. “I am merely asking you what you want, Luke.”

That only frustrated his nephew, it seemed. Luke moved to get off the bed and gather his smallclothes and breeches from the floor. Aegon rolled his eyes at the sight, a smirk pulling his lips. 

Before Luke could walk past him and out the door, Aegon grabbed him by the arm. Luke squawked as Aegon took the clothes from his hands and threw them back on the floor. He pulled him close, ignoring the whine of complaints until Luke was standing right before him.

Luke seemed so small like this even though Aegon had to tilt his head up to look at his face. His opulent doublet was disheveled, hanging from his shoulders, almost reaching his bare thighs. He was looking down at the floor, finding more interest in his feet than Aegon.

Aegon touched the hem of Luke’s doublet, the deep sea blue cloth was thick and smooth to the touch. His fingers were so close to the skin of Luke’s thigh that he could feel the heat of it.

“What do you want, Luke? What do you want to learn? What do you want me to teach you?”

Licking his lips, Luke finally set his gaze upon Aegon. 

“I want to learn what she was doing,” Luke said. There was a slight shake in his voice but each word was said with decisiveness.

“What do you—” Aegon almost bit his tongue. He leaned back on his seat with a soft huff, his head became more clouded than ever. “Speak plainly, nephew of mine.”

Luke’s next words sounded thick, wet with desire. “I want to learn how to please with my mouth. I want to… I want to please you, uncle.”

Aegon inhaled sharply. His cock had turned soft since the whore’s mouth left him, but with those mere words leaving his nephew’s pink lips, all the blood rushed to his cock in an instant. 

With swift hands, Aegon removed his breeches completely and laid them down on the floor. He looked into Luke’s dark eyes. 

“Can I?” he asked, gaze flickering down on the buttons of Luke’s doublet.

Luke nodded. “Yes,” he breathed out.

It only seemed like yesterday when Aegon and Luke were in this exact position. Aegon, comfortable in his seat, with Luke looming above, waiting for him to move; waiting for him to pounce.

But Aegon didn’t pounce. Not yet. Instead, he repeated his movements before. Brisk and steady fingers unfastened the buttons of the doublet. He didn’t stop with two just as he had before. He continued on, every button undone revealing Luke’s porcelain skin more and more.

He pushed the doublet off, revealing everything Luke had to give. The expanse of milky skin, unblemished with a tinge of blush in the most exquisite spots, sharp and curved at the same time, only adorned with a silver chain around the slender neck, the aquamarine pendant gleaming brightly.

Aegon took the pendant in his fingers and finally did the thing he wanted to do when he first laid his eyes on it. He brought the gemstone to his lips. 

Luke shuddered with a gasp. 

“One last time, Luke,” he whispered as he pulled away. “What do you want?”

The words that came out of Luke were firm this time. “I want to suck you, Uncle Aegon.”

Groaning, Aegon piled up his breeches and Luke’s doublet on the floor. “Kneel here, so you don’t hurt your knees.”

Luke dropped onto his knees, his skin and bones cushioned by the heap of clothes underneath. His gaze was unblinking, not leaving Aegon’s. Not even for a second. Then those dark eyes traveled down, resting on his cock.

“What do I do, uncle?” Luke asked, his voice so sweet and innocent.

Aegon inhaled deeply, preparing himself. “Wrap your hand around it.”

The moment Luke’s finger touched him, Aegon’s cock twitched, a hiss leaving his lips. It was so different from the whore’s touch. Where the woman was cold, Luke’s hand was hot, searing deep into his bulging veins.

It certainly must be the first time his nephew had seen another man’s cock up close. Aegon couldn’t fight the pride that bloomed in his chest as Luke stared at his shaft with hunger and astonishment in his eyes. 

Curious as he was, Luke gave his cock an experimental tug. The friction sent a jolt down Aegon’s spine, a murky mixture of pain and pleasure.

“Spit on it,” Aegon said. “It’ll be easier for you to stroke.”

“Oh. Okay,” said Luke with flushed cheeks. He leaned forward and let his spit drool down onto Aegon’s cock. 

It was bliss from there. The glide of Luke’s hand turned slick and smooth as he found a steady pace. 

Luke’s eyes never left his cock, entranced by the way his hand slid around the shaft. Up and down, up and down. A steady rhythm, quite so mesmerizing that Aegon, too, couldn’t look away.

He had paid attention to his nephew’s features, particularly his face and his eyes, but not so much to his other body parts like his hand. Though now it was all he could see. That hand with long, slender fingers seemed so small right now against Aegon’s average-sized prick.

Aegon’s ego flared up in his chest.

“Tighten your grip just a little,” he said.

His nephew obeyed like the good boy he was. “Do you feel good, uncle?”

Did Aegon feel good? He felt like he was on fire and all the water had become scarce. It was more than good. It was more than words could ever describe.

Aegon’s cock was weeping with anticipation in a matter of seconds. He had never been so hard and aroused, with only an inexperienced hand as a stimulation. The inferno in Luke’s eyes only grew wilder as he took in the sight of Aegon’s leaking shaft.

The movements of Luke’s hand slowed down, stopping to hold his cock at the base. “Can I taste it?” he asked, staring up at Aegon expectantly.

“Fuck,” Aegon gasped out, his hips jerking involuntarily. “Be my guest, nephew.”

Luke leaned down, bringing his face so close that Aegon could feel the warmth of his breath against his groin. Slowly, Luke’s tongue darted out and dipped down to lick lightly at the bead of moisture at the tip of Aegon’s cock.

He let out a shaky breath, body shivering. When Luke licked again, tongue pressing harder against the slit, Aegon grabbed onto the arms of the chair, knuckles white and protruding.

“It’s strange,” Luke said, licking his lips as if he had just tasted wine. “But I like it.”

“Have more of it then,” said Aegon, his voice dipping low. “Keep using your tongue.”

An obedient student as he was, Luke continued to lick his cock. Spit already started to drip down his chin as he lapped up the entire length, now glistening with moisture.

It felt so hot, but not hot enough. Aegon needed more than just his tongue.

“Put it in your mouth.”

Luke paused, tongue pressed against the red tip. He pulled away, just enough to look at the cock before him. “I don’t know if I can take it all. I don’t know how.”

“It’s alright. You’re here to learn, aren’t you?” Aegon reassured him. “Just take it slow. Start with the tip.”

He watched, entirely entranced, as Luke’s spit-licked lips stretched to take the head of his cock. It was only the tip but the wet heat of Luke’s mouth already set him in flames.

“There you go. Take it deeper, Luke.”

Slowly, Luke took more of him in his mouth; not even reaching halfway. A frown creased his forehead and Aegon petted his curls.

“Relax your jaw, nephew. Breathe through your nose.” When Luke finally relaxed, Aegon said, “You can start moving your head. Bob it up and down.”

As Luke started to move, it all took Aegon’s will not to grab him by the hair and just push his entire length into Luke’s throat. But Aegon had promised to take things slow. He had been such a great mentor and he wasn’t going to ruin it now.

He could be patient. Even if his cock was so hard and his balls were starting to hurt.

Teeth lightly scraped along Aegon’s length, and a long hiss escaped his lips. “Watch the teeth, Luke.”

His nephew tried to apologize but the words were only garbled, sending vibrations onto his cock that made him moan. That sound only made Luke become even more eager and determined. 

Luke took him deeper, becoming warier of his teeth. Aegon rested his hand on the back of Luke’s head, firm but not forceful, as he whispered more instructions and encouragement.

Try to use your tongue. Swirl it, just like that.

Hollow your cheeks, suck it. There you go.

Fuck. You’re doing great. Just keep going.

Good boy.

The last one had Luke moaning around him. The sound of it reverberating into him was just as delicious as hearing it out loud.

Exceptional as he was, it didn’t take long for Luke to settle into a rhythm he was comfortable in, doing all the things that he had learned thus far.

From an objective perspective, it wasn’t the best cock sucking Aegon had experienced. Luke was a beginner so it was granted. He lacked the proper technique and he was sloppy, his teeth still catching against the skin a few times. 

But Luke’s lack of skills didn’t matter. None of it mattered. There was something about the situation that made the experience far better than with the most skilled whores. 

It felt like blazing flames were licking up at him, wrapping around his entire being, and Aegon couldn’t get enough of it. 

Aegon’s breathing was ragged, fighting the urge to just spill into his nephew’s mouth. He couldn’t help but thrust his hips a little, wanting more of the heat of Luke’s mouth; more of the wetness of his tongue.

He wanted to burn. He wanted Luke’s inferno to choke him out.

Pressure and heat were building inside him. He was just thinking about spilling on Luke’s face when Luke glanced up at him with his wet, brown eyes, lips still wrapped around his cock. 

That face. Those lips. Those eyes.

Those dark eyes unleashing fire.

Aegon’s blood sang.

Before Aegon even knew it, a low groan was dragged out of his throat. His hips stuttered, almost making Luke choke as his cock pulsed, spurting hot seed into Luke’s welcoming mouth.

Luke made a noise of surprise but he didn’t stop. He continued to bob his head, hollowing out his cheeks, sucking in and milking Aegon dry. If Aegon didn’t know any better, he’d think Luke had done this many times before.

Aegon had to push him away, the overstimulation and the wet heat making him tremble. Luke sat back on his heels, swallowing everything in his mouth, throat bobbing visibly.

“Gods,” Aegon said when he finally collected himself, chest still panting. His head was a blurry mess of bliss. “Did you just swallow all of it?”

“Am I not supposed to?” Luke asked, cocking his head to the side. “The man did it earlier.”

“Most people don’t swallow. But you absolutely can if you want to.”

“Well, I want to. I like the taste of you.” Luke giggled and licked around his lips as if not to waste a single drop of Aegon’s seed.

If this was the Luke who barely knew anything, Aegon just wondered what he would be like when he was skilled and experienced.

Aegon ran his fingers through Luke’s curls. The boy sighed, pushing closer into his hand, chasing his touch. He couldn’t take it anymore.

He grabbed Luke by the arm and made him stand to his feet. 

“Fuck. Let me look at you. Turn around.”

Luke turned around, presenting his perky ass right in Aegon’s face. It was smooth and unblemished like the rest of him. A faint flush on the skin was still visible from the weight of being pressed against Luke’s heels. Aegon ran a palm over the smooth globes of the cheeks, watching them jiggle at the slightest touch. 

Then he stood up, pressing his chest against his nephew’s back, and grabbed a handful of the soft flesh. Luke whimpered, high in the back of his throat, head tipping back.

Aegon’s fingers ran along between the cheeks. “Have you ever touched yourself here?”

“N-No,” Luke said.

“Do you even know how two men copulate?”

The back of Luke's neck and his ears turned as red as wine. He gave a timid nod. “I do. I t-think.”

“You think?” Aegon asked into his reddened ear, hand kneading the smooth cheek under his palm. “Let’s test your knowledge then. Tell me how.”

Luke took a breath, deep and shaky. “Similar to how a man and a woman do it. B-But… but the cock is inserted into the backhole.”

“Good. That’s right,” Aegon said, smiling. His fingers went back between the crack of Luke’s ass cheeks, spreading them open. “Now, tell me. Do you want that? Do you want to get fucked in the ass, Luke?”

A shiver went through Luke, a broken gasp coming out of his throat. He shifted his hips, pressing his ass closer to Aegon’s hand. Aegon dipped a finger, feeling it against the puckered hole.

“Oh,” Luke breathed out as Aegon pressed a kiss on his shoulder.

“Answer me, nephew.”

He could feel Luke swallowing against him, inhaling sharply. “I don’t think I’m r-ready for that, uncle.”

Immediately, Aegon ceased his ministrations. He understood that getting fucked in the ass could be daunting even for someone wild and curious like Luke. Aegon pulled his hand away, stepping back, but Luke suddenly grabbed onto his wrist with a whine.

“But c-can you keep going, uncle?” Luke asked. “Just with your fingers?”

Aegon blinked. Then a smile formed on his lips, and he pressed another kiss onto Luke’s shoulder. “If that’s what you want, I can do that.”

Luke sighed against him. “Yes, that’s what I want.”

He led Luke to the bed. “On your hands and knees.”

His nephew was quick to assume the position in the center of the bed. Luke’s ass was more exposed this way, the puckered pink hole winking at Aegon. He just had a release but Aegon could already feel his cock filling up again.

It was terribly difficult to hold himself back. Aegon wanted nothing more than to just plow his nephew right there and feel that tight hole around him, squeezing him. 

Though Aegon’s not an oathbreaker. Tonight was about Luke’s pleasure and not his.

There was an array of jars and oils at the table beside the bed. Aegon took one before climbing up the bed and kneeling behind Luke. He opened the jar and let its content drip onto Luke’s ass.

Luke jerked. “Ah! That’s c-cold.”

Chuckling, Aegon said, “Don’t worry. I’m going to warm it up for you soon.”

After pouring the last drops of oil onto his fingers, Aegon discarded the empty jar. He nudged Luke’s thighs wider and spread his ass cheeks. 

Aegon had never really eaten someone’s ass before. After all, he was usually the one getting pleased with one’s mouth. He didn’t like kneeling for anyone else; he didn’t want to work for anyone else. Even during the few times when he wanted to taste a cunt, he would just lie down and let the woman ride his tongue. 

He was a prince. It was only right that people serve him. But for Luke, he would gladly eat his ass and please him. 

Only if they find themselves again in this situation, that was. When that might be and whether it would be possible again, Aegon didn’t know. He didn’t want to think about it.

Shaking the thoughts away, he brought his finger against Luke’s hole, his other hand holding onto Luke’s slender waist to steady him. Luke gasped, limbs trembling as Aegon drew circles against the rim of his hole.

Then he entered a finger.

It was tight, too tight. Luke was tense, muscles taut, a broken whimper catching in the back of his throat. Aegon hissed, feeling the bundle of muscles squeeze his finger.

He halted and ran a palm over the milky expanse of Luke’s back. “Relax, Luke. It’ll hurt less if you are not so tense. Just relax.”

Aegon could hear Luke breathing through his nose, his hanging low between his shoulders. He waited for his nephew to gather himself, and when he felt Luke’s hole relax considerably, he pushed his finger deeper.

He stopped when he was down to two knuckles, letting Luke adjust to the feeling first. Letting himself adjust to the feeling of Luke’s tight heat. The cold oil coating his fingers, dripping into Luke’s insides had certainly turned warm by now.

Luke let out a deep breath, relaxing even further. Aegon wasted no time and started to thrust his finger slowly.

“There you go. You’re doing well. You’re taking my finger well,” Aegon said, his own breathing ragged and deep.

A shaky whine was punched out of Luke.

Aegon kept up the steady, gentle rhythm. He watched every twitch and tremble coursing through Luke’s body; every quiver when a moan escaped his throat. Despite the cold air of the night, beads of sweat had started to form on Luke’s back, dipping down to the curve of his spine.

It wasn’t long before Luke had gotten used to the feeling. The noises he emitted were louder and dragged out longer, his hips pushing back to meet every plunge of Aegon’s finger.

Slowly, Aegon added another finger in. Luke’s rim became tight again, but nothing a few soothing words and running couldn’t ease.

Gods. It was so tight and hot, Aegon could only wonder how a cock—his cock—was supposed to fit inside his nephew. 

“Does it feel good?” he asked.

Luke could only nod, another moan choked up in his throat.

He continued fucking Luke with his fingers, slow and relaxed. Then he crooked his fingers, looking for that tender spot. He knew he had found it when Luke suddenly jerked forward with a delicious keenness. Aegon stilled him with a hand on his waist, fucking his fingers faster, pressing onto that spot harder.

“U-Uncle!”

Aegon gently pushed Luke between the shoulder blades, his upper body slumping into the mattress while his ass was still in the air. He then became relentless with his pace. Obscene wet noises filled the room, mixing in with Luke’s cries and moans. Aegon felt his mouth watering.

Countless people he had fucked but nothing could truly even compare to this. His cock hadn’t even felt the wet heat yet and only two of his fingers were inside, but Aegon could keep doing this. 

He wouldn’t mind doing all the work, being untouched, if that meant he could see every shake of Luke’s body; he could hear every noise from Luke’s lips; he could watch every push back of Luke’s hips so he could take him deeper.

Aegon fucked him with abandon, his fingers burying hilt deep every time he thrust in. Luke’s hands grasped onto the sheets for purchase, unintelligible words slipping from his tongue. Aegon could see the drool pooling and wetting the sheets.

He grabbed onto Luke’s hair, the dark curls in a tight grip on his fingers, and pushed his face further against the mattress. Luke was so pliant and blissed out that he just let his cheek get squished under him. Aegon exhaled a shaky breath, his blood singing in his veins.

A sudden memory flashed in Aegon’s mind. It was the incident that started all of this. The very thing that led the two of them at this moment.

Luke slammed face-first into the table, Aegon hovering above him, gaze transfixed on the lithe body writhing beneath him. Aegon could remember well the delectable noise that came out of Luke’s lips that time. 

Back then, Aegon had to keep replaying that memory over and over again just to hear that sound, but now he didn’t need to.

He was drowning in Luke’s gasps and moans and whines, and he had no plans of swimming back up to the surface. He was devouring all of it, tasting them on his tongue.

Aegon spat on his palm and reached around to wrap his hand around Luke’s cock. He matched the pace of his fingers with his hand.

Deliberately, Aegon curled his fingers and pressed onto that spot at the same time he squeezed Luke’s cock. 

Luke jolted, the broken moan slipping out of his lips becoming soundless. His cock twitched in Aegon’s hand as ropes of semen spurted onto the sheets.  His hole fluttered around Aegon’s fingers as Aegon continued to fuck him.

When Luke started to tremble intensely, crying out in breathless whines, his cock pulsing with nothing, only then did Aegon finally let go and pulled out. Luke’s body slumped onto the bed, breathing loudly and heavily.

Aegon was panting, admiring the spent body before him. The long limbs, the sore pink ass, the curls that pooled messily. Aegon couldn’t help himself, he kissed Luke’s shoulder again.

Luke turned to look at him. His face was blissed out, spit glistening on his grinning lips and down to his chin, his cheeks flushed red. But his brown eyes were something else.

They were dark and blazing.

A fire unleashed. 

Wild and unpredictable.

An inferno.

And Aegon gladly burned.

Chapter Text

Rhaenyra twisted the rings on her fingers. She had already taken them off hours ago when she went to bed, but it seemed appropriate and very much necessary that they find themselves back on her fingers.

One more twist, then another, and another. 

She inhaled sharply.

The hour of the owl had plunged the entire castle into silence. She paced back and forth, her steps echoing loudly like claps of thunder during a dark storm.

Then the doors to her chamber opened as Daemon strutted in, and Rhaenyra almost cried at the sight of him.

“Where is he? Have you found him?”

Her husband took her by the arms, steady and comforting hands righting her up. Daemon was straight-lipped, the hard lines on his face seemed more prominent, but there was a glint of amusement in his eyes.

“Yes, we have found him,” he answered. “In the Street of Silk.”

It took a moment for Rhaenyra to realize her husband’s words. 

“Street of Silk?” she screeched, pulling away from Daemon’s hold. She waited a moment to see if it was one of her husband’s cruel jests, but his face remained serious. Truthful. Rhaenyra almost choked. “Tell me what in the gods’ names is my sweet boy doing in that place?”

Daemon licked his lips. “I suppose Lucerys is a grown man.”

“No.” Rhaenyra shook her head. “I refuse to believe my boy would go to that place on his own accord. Who was he with?”

There was a brief silence, gnawing at Rhaenyra before Daemon spoke. “He was with Aegon.”

Rhaenyra stared at her husband in disbelief. “Aegon. My half-brother, Aegon.”

“Yes, that Aegon. Lucerys’ uncle,” Daemon said, a small chuckle escaping his lips. “Well, it seems like history repeats itself, my love.”

“This is not a laughing matter, Daemon!” said Rhaenyra. She couldn’t even imagine the thought of her son with her vile half-brother. It was scandalous. Unacceptable.

Daemon’s chuckling had ceased but there was still a smirk on his lips. “It’s not. But I’m just stating a fact. We know Lucerys takes a lot after you, and Laenor, of course.”

Shaking her head, Rhaenyra slumped on the nearest settee. Her day at the court had been taxing, every suggestion she made was countered by Otto and every order she made was questioned by Alicent. Rhaenyra knew clearly well that if she were to sit on the Iron Throne one day, her decisions would always be criticized and her every move would always be watched; she just didn’t expect it would be this exhausting.

Her husband’s inclination to violence when things didn’t go their way didn’t help. She had to hold Daemon back from brandishing his sword and taking Otto’s head off whenever the Hand spoke.

It felt like a burden most of the time, but this was her duty as the heir. She had to endure all of it. Though it seemed like in doing so, her duty as a mother had been forsaken.

She knew that her children had been spending time with Alicent’s children. It was one of the requests of her father, still hopeful that the younger ones wouldn’t end up drifting away as they did.

Rhaenyra knew her boys were training at arms with her half-brothers, overseen by Ser Erryk of the Kingsguards. An arrangement she personally ordered herself after the little fight that the boys had in the yard. Her boys may have not told her the truth about that ordeal but they didn’t need to—she knew them. 

They wouldn’t venture out of the castle with their uncles unsupervised, knowing the bad blood between them. Jace wouldn’t. Luke wouldn’t.

Luke wouldn’t.

She buried her face in her hands and took a deep breath. When she looked back at Daemon, her husband was already looking at her.

“I still refuse to believe this,” she said, shaking her head. “Who even told you this? Maybe they gave you the wrong information. Maybe they were mistaken. It wasn’t Luke, perhaps another boy instead.”

“My informant doesn’t lie,” Daemon said indignantly. “She’s one of the most loyal ones I have.”

Rhaenyra pursed her lips. “People can make mistakes no matter how loyal they are, Daemon. They can be wrong! Did she see Luke and Aegon together personally? Does she even know what Luke looks like?”

Daemon approached her and took her hands in his. He always did that when he was about to say something that she wouldn’t like. Rhaenyra tried to prepare herself as best as she could.

“Do you remember that barmaid that still reports to me even when we’re in Dragonstone? Jeyne? She’s the one who told us of Otto and Alicent’s plan to put Aegon on the throne.”

“Yes, I remember,” Rhaenyra said with a nod. “Aegon’s a loyal customer of hers, you said. And Aegon often confides in her when inebriated.”

“That’s right,” Daemon said. “Last night, Aegon visited her tavern with ‘the second coming of Queen Aemma but in a lanky curly-headed boy’s form’—her words, not mine.”

There was a loud, shaky breath between them. It took a moment for Rhaenyra to realize that it came from her.

Her husband continued. “When Jeyne asked Aegon of his plans with Lucerys, he said he was just showing his nephew around the city. Some harmless fun as he apparently described it. Lucerys didn’t look like he was being forced, he looked fascinated, even. Still, Jeyne had them watched but after a tankard in the tavern, the two of them went to the Street of Silk, and they lost them.”

Rhaenyra sobbed. She still couldn’t believe what she was hearing. “Why didn’t you retrieve my sweet boy, then? You know every brothel in the city. You could’ve taken him back!”

Daemon sighed. It sounded frustrated but he still hadn’t let go of Rhaenyra’s hands. Instead, his thumbs started to rub circles across her knuckles. “Retrieving Lucerys would only make a scene, and you know how fast words spread in those places. I thought you’d want as few people as possible to know of this. We only just got Lucerys’ status as the Driftmark heir reinstated. We don’t need to give Otto and his lackeys more things to use against our boy.”

His words seemed sensible enough, but what was being sensible when the safety of her child was on the line? “But it’s also possible that Luke is being used by them. Have Aegon influence him in the worst ways.”

“Indeed, that can be possible,” Daemon said after pondering over it. “But I highly doubt it.”

Rhaenyra scoffed. “Do not tell me you think they’re not capable of that.”

“Oh, I know Otto is capable of that. I know Alicent is capable of that. But your idiot of a half-brother… that I doubt.”

“He’s Otto’s grandson. Don’t underestimate him.”

“He’s a drunken cunt with no regard to anything but alcohol and whoring around. I know, I’ve watched him,” Daemon said. “I’ve kept an eye on him, and I’ve seen the way he always looks at Lucerys. That they always spend time together. It’s not difficult to figure out what is inside your half-brother’s head. I know because I’ve been there.”

Rhaenyra couldn’t help the frown on her face. She was not following what her husband was saying. “What do you mean?”

Daemon laughed. “As I said, my love, history repeats itself.”

Could it be true? Could it be that her sweet boy was not in harm’s way? Was he truly not being used as a tool to get back at her and ruin her family?

She could only swallow thickly, slumping forward against her husband. Daemon patted her hair gently, fingers running loosely through the strands cascading down her back.

“Do you truly believe that?” she asked, her voice sounding so small it didn't seem like her.

“I don’t believe it, I know it, and I’m not surprised at all about it.” Daemon chuckled lightly. “Though I did think that it would be the other uncle.”

Rhaenyra looked up at her husband. “Other uncle? Are you referring to Aemond?”

The grin on Daemon’s face went wider. “You’re not blind. You see it. You see the way he looks at Lucerys, and the way Lucerys looks at him.”

She had seen it indeed. After all, it was difficult not to notice. As soon as they had stepped into the Great Hall, she already felt the sharp gaze of her half-brother. She had shielded her sweet boy then, thinking that it must be hatred that spurred Aemond on.

It was, but it wasn’t all.

Rhaenyra rarely got to be around the children but when she did, she could plainly see Aemond's gaze on her boy. The hatred never left—a pyre constantly burning—but there was something else too. Something that she had seen all those years ago in her own uncle’s eyes.

In her husband’s eyes.

And when she looked at her son, she could only feel nothing but dread to see a similar look in his eyes. Only then did she truly understand why her own father had been adamant about keeping her and Daemon apart.

The impulse to protect her child was great. Though perhaps she was too concerned, too focused on her fear to notice that it wasn’t just one uncle’s attention that Luke had caught. 

“Then why is our son with Aegon?” she asked. “It’s Aemond that he… he has feelings for. And the barmaid said Luke didn’t seem forced. So why is he with Aegon?”

Daemon smiled. “It’s simple. It seems that our Lucerys is fond of both his uncles.”

Rhaenyra froze.

How did her sweet boy even get entangled with not one, but two of his uncles? This might be even worse than what her father had experienced.

She breathed deeply. “Gods, what are we to do, Daemon?”

Her husband knelt down in front of her, looking her in the eyes. She knew that gaze very well. It was the one he always had whenever he schemed plans. 

“You mentioned the possibility of Lucerys being used by the Greens, and I know for a fact that it’s not the case,” Daemon said. “But it got me thinking. What if we let Lucerys continue this… act with Aegon and use that as an opportunity to know of their plans?”

Rhaenyra pulled her hands away from his hold. “No. We’re not endangering Luke.”

Daemon sighed. “He’s no longer a child, my love. He’d be the Lord of the Tides in the future, he must be used to this kind of thing. Besides, it’s for his own benefit as well.”

“You said it yourself, Daemon. This thing between my son and his uncle is genuine. What kind of mother would I be if I took that away from him?”

“You wouldn’t do it as a mother. You’d do it as the future Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,” Daemon said with a tight voice.

“No,” she said again with more defiance.

Her husband raised an eyebrow at her. “So you’re alright with Lucerys being with Aegon? That drunk cunt?”

“Of course, not!” Rhaenyra sighed exasperatedly. “But if Luke truly wants to be with his uncle, then I don’t want to deprive him. I don’t want to do what my father did to us.”

Daemon shook his head, and the chuckle from him sounded disappointed. “We’d be missing a big opportunity here, Rhaenyra.”

“I don’t care,” she said through gritted teeth. “There are still many other ways to uncover their plans. We still have your informants.” 

“And suddenly now you approve of them?” 

She glared at her husband. “Better them than our Luke.”

“Fine,” Daemon bit out. “What do you want us to do then? I can have your half-brother suffer a little accident.”

“No. Otto and Alicent will surely know it was us. Even if it weren’t, they’d still find a way to point it at us.” Rhaenyra tilted her chin up. “Just don’t… don’t do anything. Don’t interfere with Luke’s affairs, but have him be watched. Ensure he’s always safe. I still do not trust Aegon. Do you hear me, husband? Do not interfere.”

Daemon looked at her for a long while, watching her face, her eyes, but Rhaenyra didn’t waver under his gaze. Then finally, realizing that she wouldn’t back down, Daemon went to his feet and gave her a chaste kiss on the forehead. “As you wish.”

Rhaenyra closed her eyes. She only hoped that she was doing the right thing. When Daemon walked out to find one of their loyal guards, she couldn’t stop her fingers from playing with her rings once more. 

+ + +

There were two little birds flying about, chasing one another with high-pitched tweets. The tree of the branch that they finally perched on was huge, its green leaves beautifully vibrant against the blue sky.

Aegon had never noticed that there were such birds in this place, or that a pretty tree stood there for that matter. He was certain these things had never even existed yesterday. Or the day after that.

“If you ruin any of the plants here, I will push you off the highest tower in the Keep.”

Aegon gasped dramatically, looking at his sister sitting across the table. She wasn’t looking at him, her attention solely on the embroidery on her lap. “Gods, sister, there’s no need for such brutality! I will never touch your ugly plants and flowers.”

His sister only hummed. “You’re acting weirdly.”

“I am not,” Aegon said with a snort.

“You’re here in the gardens, spending time with me. You are acting weirdly.”

“What? Is it that strange that I’m spending time with my sister?”

Helaena paused and finally looked at him with her blank lavender eyes. “This is the first time that you’re talking to me willingly in five years. Has the alcohol finally poisoned your mind and changed you?”

Aegon rolled his eyes. “And here I am, trying to be nice…”

“You couldn’t even if you tried, brother.” The lack of malice or even humor in Helaena’s tone made her words eerie.

Truthfully, Aegon himself didn’t know what he was doing in the gardens. He and Helaena had never been particularly close. Helaena rarely liked people, always spending her time with insects she picked up from gods know where instead. She was simply strange and had entirely different interests than him. There was nothing that could bind them.

Once, when they were children, his half-sister had proposed a marriage between Helaena and Jace. Aegon could remember his mother and his grandfather talking about it in frantic whispers as if a great catastrophe had fallen over them. 

Even then, it wasn’t a secret that his mother and his half-sister didn’t get along well—what was once an unbreakable friendship ruined by some sort of feud that Aegon didn’t bother to know about. A marriage between Helaena and Jace was a perfect opportunity to mend the broken bonds. Grandfather was even considering it, seeing it as a way to push his agenda forward, but Mother didn’t see it that way.

Instead, she had put forth the notion to marry Aegon and Helaena.

A scandalous plan, it was. Mother was known for her undying faith in the Seven. To suggest such a thing for her children, even if it was an ordinary custom for their family—for the Targaryens—raised some whispers among her court. 

The truth was, Aegon didn’t truly mind the idea of being wed to his sister. Only if that sister wasn’t Helaena. Perhaps if his sister was more unlike the way she was then he would’ve considered, but alas, the match had always been incompatible. 

Aegon never hid his dislike and protests, but Mother had been adamant about the whole proposal. Aegon could still remember the venom in her voice as words spewed rapidly out of her mouth, I would rather marry my only daughter to my disappointment of a son than have her married to one of Rhaenyra’s bastards.

It almost came to fruition, Mother was about to tell their father when Helaena finally intervened. It was probably the only time she had raised her voice—at their mother, no less. Aegon couldn’t afford to be offended at his sister’s apparent dislike of him, not when it was mutual and not when Helaena saved both of their lives.

Rarely such a situation was, Mother couldn’t do anything but call off the arrangement. 

Sometimes, Aegon couldn’t help but think that his half-sister and his sister could be so similar. Father always listened to Rhaenyra, Mother to Helaena. He couldn’t think of a single moment when someone had listened to him.

“Now, you’re awfully quiet,” Helaena suddenly said, bringing him back from his thoughts. “Something happened to you.”

She sounded so certain as if she knew things. As if she knew everything. 

“Why would you think that?” Aegon asked.

Helaena hummed one of her tuneless songs, her lavender eyes now back on the embroidery in her lap. Her fingers were swiftly moving, stitches slowly forming the image of a three-headed dragon. The sigil of their house, or at least her own take on it. There was something different to it, though what, Aegon couldn’t quite tell.

“Helaena,” he called when she didn’t speak. “Why do you say something has happened to me?”

“You seem different,” she said. “Not happier, but freer, I suppose. A dragon out of its cage.”

Aegon snorted. “A dragon cannot be put in a cage.”

“Perhaps.” Helaena smiled at him. It wasn’t kind, but it wasn’t sinister either. It was just simply a smile. “Baela, Rhaena, and I are planning to take our dragons for a ride on the morrow.”

“Rhaena doesn’t have a dragon,” Aegon said.

“No. She’ll be riding with me on Dreamfyre. Dreamfyre likes her, and I like that Dreamfyre likes her.”

Aegon scrunched up his nose. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you can come fly with us, of course. I know you miss Sunfyre,” said Helaena.

The two of them didn’t need to have a special bond to know that the other was missing their dragon. Helaena was a dragonrider as much as Aegon was, even though she rarely took Dreamfyre out on a flight, always spending time with the she-dragon in the pits instead. She knew of the fondness and yearning a dragonrider could feel; the warm, liberating companionship that only a bonded dragon could provide.

Frankly, it had been a while since Aegon had taken out Sunfyre on a flight. Ever since Rhaenyra’s family had arrived, he hadn’t had the time to visit the Dragonpit often. There were a few times when he spent the afternoon with his dragon, but as of late, he had been too preoccupied with the affairs in the Keep.

Especially affairs with a certain dark-haired, dark-eyed boy.

As if she could hear his thoughts, Helaena added, “Oh, Jace, Luke, and Joffrey will be there too.”

His sister mentioned three of their nephews, and yet, there was only one name that rang in his head. Aegon fought the smile that threatened to stretch the corners of his lips.

“Our nephews are coming as well?” Aegon asked instead, hoping that his face remained neutral.

“Jace and Luke are going to accompany Joffrey for his first flight. He has finished his lessons with the dragonkeepers, and Tyraxes has now grown big enough to be ridden.”

Unlike his nephews, who grew up alongside their dragons, Aegon didn’t have to wait for Sunfyre to grow big to ride him. The first time he took his dragon to the skies was the moment he first bonded with him. It was also the first time he felt free—a different kind of freedom from the one he had when he was in the city, buried in cups and whores.

The thought made him realize how he missed Sunfyre, terribly so. 

“Fine,” Aegon finally said in a huff, crossing his arms. “I’ll join you on your stupid flight.”

Helaena only smiled that blank smile of hers, and Aegon wondered if his sister indeed knew everything.

+ + +

The next day had come faster than Aegon had expected. The dawn was only breaking when Aegon decided to go to Dragonpit, wanting to spend as much time as he could with Sunfyre alone.

Though to his luck, a shrill whistle echoed in the pit as he stepped inside.

Aegon immediately halted, the hair on the back of his neck rising, the blood in his veins going cold. The whistle continued to grate his ears as the ground trembled slightly with each thud.

He could remember clearly well the first time he had encountered this sound.

His half-sister's family had arrived in a flurry of flaps of dragon wings and a rumbled mixture of roars. Though amidst all the noises, one strange sound stood out then: A whistle so high-pitched that it could pierce right through the thick walls of the Red Keep and into his bones, making his blood curl.

It didn’t take long before the source of the sound came into view. A slender, crimson mass flew over the city with peculiar movements that he had never seen before, its strange whistles ringing in the air like a warning. 

For a moment, Aegon had been petrified where he stood. The dragon had reminded Aegon of Helaena’s insects—long bodies seemingly slithering on the ground, their too many legs moving like a tiny army of soldiers. Though instead of the usual disgust when he saw those insects, the sight of the red worm in the sky only made Aegon shudder in dread.

And it was the same dread that made him step back now.

“Nephew.” Daemon appeared next to the Blood Wyrm, his smile just as sharp as the dragon’s teeth. 

While Aegon wasn’t a stranger to the piercing gaze of the Rogue Prince, standing in front of his uncle alone was an entirely different experience. He could still remember that incident in the training yard like it was yesterday, and the absence of his brother and his nephews only made everything more dreadful.

The Rogue Prince was as imposing and intimidating as everyone made him out to be. Aegon was aware of all the tales about his uncle—the dark yet high reputation he had in the slums. Aegon may be familiar with Flea Bottom but Daemon was something else; his uncle wasn’t called Lord Flea Bottom for nothing.

Aegon swallowed the dryness in his throat. “Uncle,” he greeted with a curt nod.

Hoping that their interaction would end at that, Aegon tried to walk past his uncle. He only made it two steps before the Blood Wyrm slithered its neck and blocked his way with a flare of its nostrils. The tiny whimper that escaped Aegon’s throat was embarrassing, and he hoped Daemon didn’t hear it.

“Going somewhere?” Daemon asked with a raise of his eyebrow.

“Uh… my dragon. I’m going to my dragon. Sunfyre—his name is Sunfyre.” Aegon cleared his throat, shifting on his feet as his gaze flitted between Daemon and his unblinking dragon. “We’re going on a flight. Every one of us—your children, Helaena, me.”

Daemon hummed. “Lucerys did mention something of the sort.”

Aegon couldn’t help himself. The mere mention of Luke’s name had him looking at Daemon. Which seemed to be the reaction his uncle was expecting, who was now staring at Aegon with a knowing look in his eyes.

Clearing his throat once more, Aegon avoided Daemon’s purple eyes. “Yes. It was my sister’s plan. Helaena. She’s grown fond of your daughters.”

“Ah. Yes, of course,” Daemon said, amusement present in his voice. “Also fond of critters, that one, isn’t she? Baela came back with a huge spider the other day—nearly scared Lucerys to death.”

He could clearly see it, the image of his dear nephew, screaming with horror as a spider was trying to crawl over him. Aegon himself didn’t hold any affection toward Helaena’s pets, finding them revolting, but he wasn’t scared of them. To learn that Luke, the same Luke who held such great fire in him, was afraid of those tiny creatures was quite amusing.

A small chuckle escaped Aegon’s throat, but it all turned into a choked cough when he realized that Daemon was watching him intently. 

“So…” Aegon laughed nervously, scratching the back of his neck. “I should probably go—”

“Aegon.”

Daemon’s voice was as sharp and swift as a swing of a Valyrian sword. Aegon winced and begrudgingly turned toward his uncle. “Yes?” he asked, his voice meek as though he was a child facing his grandfather all over again.

His uncle took a silent step forward, then another, and another until he was standing in front of Aegon with a sinister shadow in his eyes. Aegon despised how he had to look up at Daemon, his uncle’s tall figure looming over him as a dragon would to its prey.

“Best be careful on your flight,” Daemon said in a low voice. He put a hand on Aegon’s shoulder, his grip too tight to be anything friendly. “We wouldn’t want you to fall off your dragon now, do we?”

That sounded like a threat more than a bit of friendly advice, and Aegon stopped breathing momentarily. 

It was a threat.

Daemon chuckled and didn’t wait for him to say anything. The Rogue Prince patted his shoulder before getting on his dragon. The Blood Wyrm exhaled hot steam of air toward him before taking off to the sky and out of the pits, the harsh gust of wind making Aegon squint and stumble.

For a moment, Aegon stood there, dumbfounded. 

He knew Daemon didn’t like him or any of his siblings. Back when they all got into that scuffle in the training yard, Daemon’s little threat was only directed at him and Aemond. At that time, Aegon was admittedly scared as the moment had felt grievous. 

Though now that he thought about it, his uncle’s words seemed empty; Daemon didn’t really care about that childish fight. Certainly, he was annoyed that his stepsons were hurt, that they were all acting foolish, but Daemon’s words were nothing but a mere warning.

But this… this felt different. 

Daemon only wished him to be careful, and yet, his words sounded more like a threat than anything. The way he mentioned Luke’s name, too, was a little bit deliberate.

Aegon froze.

Gods. Does Daemon know? Does he know I took his precious stepson in the Street of Silk? 

He didn’t see if Daemon carried Dark Sister with him. Though it didn’t really matter—Daemon didn’t need any kind of weapon to inflict harm upon someone. 

The Blood Wyrm was nothing but a small mark now in the skies. If Aegon wanted to live, he should avoid flying while Daemon was still with his dragon.

He felt a shudder run down his body. 

All Aegon wanted was to spend time with Sunfyre and see Luke again, but now he had other concerns in mind. Peace never lasted long in his life, it seemed.

A familiar roar echoed in the Dragonpit, catching his attention. Aegon immediately called for the dragonkeepers and told them to bring Sunfyre out.

His dragon was as beautiful as ever. Despite the limited light pouring down the pits, Sunfyre’s golden scales shimmered brightly. Aegon ran up to his dragon and caressed his snout. 

“How are you, my boy?” Aegon asked, his lips stretching into a smile. “I’ve missed you. Do you want to go out today?”

Sunfyre breathed a gentle warm air that felt like a soft blanket against Aegon’s skin. His dragon purred and leaned against his rubbing hand.

Then suddenly, Sunfyre tilted his head, his reptilian eyes blinking slowly. Aegon followed his dragon’s line of sight and his breath got caught up in his throat.

Luke stood there, looking so beautiful in his black and red dragonriding garments. His cheeks glowed with flush as their gazes met. The smile that Luke sent him was small, almost shy, and yet it could compete with the gleam of Sunfyre’s golden scales.

“Hello, Uncle Aegon,” Luke said softly.

His curls looked softer than ever. Aegon’s fingers itched to run through them again and grip them tightly. His throat dried quickly like a hot summer day. 

Aegon wanted nothing more than to approach Luke and saddle him quickly to his dragon so they could fly together, but then the tiny silhouette of the slithering crimson wyrm was still visible in the sky. 

Daemon couldn’t definitely see them from up in the clouds but Aegon figured it was better to be safe than sorry. He paused, mouth opened, and quickly retracted the words back in his throat.

He gave Luke a curt nod instead. “Good morrow, nephew.”

The formality of it was enough to make Aegon wince. It wasn’t like him. Even Luke frowned at the strangeness of it, confusion passing in his bright eyes. He looked like he was about to say something but his face turned crestfallen, and his lips curved downward as he looked away.

Bright, brown eyes became dark and gloomy.

Aegon reached forward, regret already settling in the pit of his stomach. “Wait—”

“Oh. You came, brother.”

Helaena strutted into the Dragonpit with Baela and Rhaena holding each of her arms while Jace and Joffrey trailed after them. Luke immediately stepped away and looked for a dragonkeeper to bring out his dragon. Aegon gritted his teeth.

Up above in the skies, the Blood Wyrm’s high-pitched whistle rang.

Jace, diplomatic as ever, greeted him with an awkward pat on his shoulder. Rhaena was polite enough to acknowledge him with a smile. Baela, on the other hand, was rude as ever, still regarding Aegon with a scowl, and for a moment, Aegon could see Daemon in her eyes.

“Sister, Baela, Rhaena, Jace, little Joffrey,” he said with a nod. Sunfyre gave a low roar as if greeting them as well. “I hope you don’t mind me coming along.”

Baela and Jace looked like they actually minded but Helaena smiled. “You’re very much welcome to join us, brother.”

The rest of the dragons were brought out with the help of the dragonkeepers. Helaena introduced Rhaena to Dreamfyre, the silvery blue dragon quickly warming up to their cousin with soft nudges and low purrs. The two of them saddled up Dreamfyre together with ease as though they had been doing this for a long time now.

On the other corner of the pit, Jace, Joffrey, and Baela were tending to their own dragons. While Jace was busy helping Joffrey with his dragon, Baela still kept glancing at Aegon as she saddled her dragon. Her eyes were sharp like she was conjuring up all vile things imaginable to Aegon in her head. Even her dragon—Moondancer, if Aegon remembered correctly—was staring at him a little too intensely for his liking. 

Aegon felt like he was prey all over again. 

If it came down to a fight, there was no doubt that he and his Sunfyre would come out as the victor. Sunfyre was bigger and stronger; he could rip out Moondancer’s throat without difficulty, and Baela would be able to do nothing but cry about it. 

Though still, the sharp gaze Baela and Moondancer were giving him was enough to make him shudder. Aegon could practically feel the murderous intent even with the distance between them. Sunfyre also became agitated because of it, and Aegon had to calm him with reassuring whispers.

Aegon wondered if Baela also knew. Though if Baela knew, that meant Jace and Rhaena also knew—because there was no way she wouldn’t tell them—and yet, the two had remained civil toward Aegon.

He turned away from his cousin and her ugly dragon until bright gleaming scales entered his line of sight.

Luke’s dragon, Arrax, was perhaps the smallest among them, but he also held a beauty that could rival even that of Sunfyre. Arrax’s scales were white and reflected different colors in the light like the glimmering pearls that some noble ladies wore around their necks. Whenever he moved, his scales glistened brightly in a different color.

Arrax seemed as jovial as his rider, shrieking and hissing happily as Luke caressed his neck. The young dragon’s eyes and chest were gold, almost like a reflection of Sunfyre’s scales, as he suddenly paused and blinked at them.

Sunfyre perked up at the attention. For a moment, Aegon thought that his dragon might find Arrax’s staring antagonizing. It wasn’t uncommon for some dragons to be territorial and easily offended especially if the other dragon was a stranger. Though to Aegon’s surprise, Sunfyre only blinked back at Arrax before emitting a purr. It was low and soft, and Aegon could feel the longing behind it even though it was the first time that Sunfyre and Arrax met properly.

Pearl and gold stared at one another—two divine dragons purring and roaring softly as if calling out to each other.

Noticing his dragon’s behavior, Luke turned toward them, surprise and confusion evident on his face. Luke’s wide eyes met Aegon’s, and Aegon watched as another blush bloomed on his nephew’s cheeks, his soft face contorting slightly as though embarrassed.

Gods be damned, Aegon thought. He didn’t know if Daemon was still circling the skies with his dragon or if Baela was still throwing daggers at him with her eyes—Aegon didn’t care. He was going to approach Luke. He needed to approach Luke.

Before he could take a step, Arrax suddenly cried out with loud shrieks. The dragon jumped, wings flapping enthusiastically as if he was about to be presented with a fresh goat. Luke stepped away from Arrax, trying to calm the dragon in High Valyrian and shielding his eyes away from the dust blowing in his direction at the same time.

Then Sunfyre bellowed too. Aegon stumbled back, avoiding the swing of Sunfyre’s wings. Luke’s face was struck with horror as he looked up at Sunfyre, who was all but ready to lunge at them.  

Aegon scrambled to his feet and ran in front of his dragon. “Sunfyre, no! Be calm!”

Sunfyre quickly followed his words but not without an annoyed huff. Aegon tried his best to hold his dragon’s attention, waving his arms in the air and making Sunfyre step back.

Behind him, however, Aegon could hear Arrax still crying out. This time, his shrieks and roars weren’t happy and sounded more like a dejected cry.

Dragonkeepers streamed into the pit and helped Luke to calm Arrax down. Soon, Jace and the others followed, concern and curiosity written all over their faces.

“What happened?” Jace asked, inspecting Luke for any wounds or injuries, while Rhaena helped in dusting off his riding garb and fixing his wind-swept hair. 

Baela, suspecting as ever, only glared at Aegon. Sunfyre snorted behind him as he always did when he found something he didn’t like. To Aegon’s relief, his dragon didn’t move and just stayed there, his eyes still fixed on the pearlescent dragon being taken care of by the keepers.

Luke waved it off, smiling sheepishly. “I’m alright. You know how Arrax is. He can be overly excited about things.”

That didn’t ease the concern on his siblings’ faces. Jace absolutely looked like he wanted to take Luke to the maesters despite his lack of injuries. Even Joffrey looked like he wanted to drag his brother back to the Keep.

“I’m fine, really,” said Luke again. “I think… Arrax just wanted to play with Sunfyre.”

At the mention of his dragon, everyone turned to Aegon. There was a frown on Jace’s face as if everything was Aegon’s fault while Baela looked like she wanted to murder him more. Sunfyre gave another huff, the warm steam of his breath blowing in their direction. 

“What can I say? Sunfyre got excited as well,” Aegon said with a shrug. 

He turned to Luke. His nephew’s curls were still a mess, some of the strands falling over his face, but they looked presentable somehow. His eyes were big and wet, and a certain memory flashed in Aegon’s head.

Luke on his knees, looking up at him with the same gaze, his pink lips wrapped around Aegon’s cock—

Aegon shook the thought away. Now was not the time or the place to think of such things. His nephews and his cousins were still all looking at him expectantly.

Clearing his throat, Aegon asked, “Are you sure you’re alright, Luke?”

Surprise crossed Luke’s face. Even the others looked puzzled, but Aegon didn’t mind them. His eyes remained only on his dear nephew, who chewed on his rosy lips.

“I’m sure. I’m alright,” Luke said with a tight smile.

“You’ll still come to fly with us, then?” Helaena asked.

“Of course,” Luke said. He ruffled Joffrey’s hair, and the younger tried to swat his hand away with a pout. “I can’t miss Joff’s first flight.”

Helaena clasped her hands, bouncing on the balls of her heels. There was a wide smile pulling her lips, so unlike the blank one that she always gave Aegon. “Great! This is going to be fun!”

Jace nodded in agreement. “I suggest we go now before Arrax gets excited again.”

They all got to their respective dragons, and one by one, they took off to the skies. Each of their dragons gave a delighted roar that trembled the city, followed by the oohs and aahs of the smallfolk down below.

Aegon howled as Sunfyre flew high up to the clouds. King’s Landing looked so small now, and the people were nothing but tiny ants crawling about. 

Flying in the skies, basking under the warmth of the sun, the wind sweeping his hair back behind him, feeling the flap of Sunfyre’s wings every once in a while—this was what true freedom felt like. 

While Aegon loved the freedom that he had found in the city, that felt significantly smaller compared to this. He could do many things in King’s Landing but it was still surrounded by four walls with hidden eyes and ears looking out for him. He may be outside the Red Keep but the place really was just a bigger castle with different people. A bigger prison cell with more room to move in.

It was vastly different from when Aegon was on a flight, far away from the gloomy walls of the Keep. This—roaming the skies with Sunfyre—made Aegon feel like he could do anything. 

Everything.

There were no duties to tend to, no nobles to entertain, no Mother and Grandfather to appease, no Prince Aegon Targaryen, the firstborn son of the King. 

It was only Aegon. Just Aegon.

Sometimes, he had thought of running away, going to a place where his grandfather and his mother’s claws wouldn’t reach him. Perhaps to the Free Cities or even beyond that—to those places with strange names he had seen from a map lying about in the library. It would be very easy to leave his life behind, and no one would be able to stop him.

But then, Aegon knew himself quite well. To live in a new place with new people and a new language would be difficult. Aegon barely mastered High Valyrian as it was, and his mastery of the language was even questionable, especially after conversing with Luke. And although he had learned different things and lifestyles in King’s Landing, he wasn’t certain if that alone would be enough for him to wander out in the world on his own. 

Every time he found himself in the streets with no recollection of the night before, there would always be someone to pick him up and get him back to the Keep to be straightened out again. There was always someone who would right whatever wrongs he made; fix whatever it was he did.

There was also the matter of coins. It was easy for him to procure coins in the Keep. He didn’t even need them sometimes when he was in the city as some people would recognize him and would insist that he shouldn’t pay. Going to another place would mean that he had to earn those coins on his own, and Aegon was certain he wouldn’t survive doing that.

Aegon truly hated being a prince. But he also loved it—he couldn’t live without it. Only if there was a way for him to have the best of both worlds.

Taking a deep breath, Aegon let his arms spread out and closed his eyes. He squandered all the thoughts in his head until he could hear nothing but the wind rushing past him. 

Then there was a faint purr. Aegon opened his eyes and saw the gleaming pearl on his right. Sunfyre tilted slightly, a satisfied growl rumbling across his golden scales.
  
Luke looked even smaller on Arrax’s back despite the size of the dragon. His dark curls flowed behind him, exposing more of his glowy face. There was a huge smile pulling on his lips, showing off his teeth. His eyes caught the sunlight fully, making them lighter and golden than they usually were. The sight was so serene, so different from the nephew Aegon had always seen. 

Aegon didn’t feel the inferno consuming him. Instead, a familiar tenderness came over him.   

After the many times they had spent together, Aegon knew well that there were different sides to Luke. He wasn’t just the savage bastard who took his brother’s eye, he wasn’t just the wanton nephew who wanted to seduce his uncle, he wasn’t just an overprotective brother with an unmatched fire, he wasn’t just a boy with an undying curiosity, he wasn’t just the future Lord of the Tides who would rather spend time reading old tomes about their ancestors than to attend his lessons. He wasn’t just Luke.

Even now as Aegon looked at his dear nephew, Aegon still got that feeling that he hadn’t figured out Lucerys Velaryon yet.

Laughter came out of Luke as Arrax shot forward in a quick burst. The sound was carried by the wind, so light and so soft, wrapping around Aegon like the softest blanket made out of exotic silks.

The somber look on Luke’s face came back to his mind. Aegon didn’t like seeing Luke dejected because he didn’t know how to act in such a situation. But to see Luke become sad because of him—because of what he did? Aegon felt like the biggest fool, and he despised it. 

For a moment, Aegon looked around. Daemon and his slithering dragon were no longer in sight. Aegon’s hands gripped the handles of his saddle tightly, his fingers and palms longing for the heat of Luke’s fire. 

He wanted to go to Luke and reach out to him. So he did.

But before Sunfyre could even close in, something cast a vast shadow over them, followed by a low roar that echoed in the clouds, rumbling even deep into Aegon’s bones. Sunfyre hissed but he didn’t make any move further.

Something flew overhead, something dark green and leathery. The wind it brought was so strong it almost swayed Sunfyre and Aegon over. Aegon could only roll his eyes as the dragon took position on Luke’s other side.

The ancient dragon was so huge that she had to be far away, her vast wings spanning acres in the sky. Arrax looked so small next to her, but the young dragon chittered happily at the new presence.

Of course, Aegon’s brother would also be here. How could he even forget about Aemond? If Helaena invited Aegon, it should’ve been expected that she invited Aemond as well. If anything, Aemond probably got the invitation first. 

Aemond sat atop the huge dragon, his face stoic as ever. However, there was also glee in his lone eye, and Aegon could see that even from afar. 

His brother had always been the happiest when he was on a flight with his dragon—a sentiment that Aegon could understand. Though now Aemond was flying on his dragon alongside Luke, the one and only object of his desire.

Aegon could only imagine the joy in his brother’s heart. If he could, Aemond would probably scream at the top of his lungs like a madman. Too bad, however, Aemond was too uptight to raise his voice or pull a smile.

When Aegon glanced at Luke, he found that there was a smile stretching his nephew’s lips. Something dark bubbled in the pit of Aegon’s stomach, threatening to go up his throat as though he was flying on his dragon for the first time. 

Sunfyre seemed to notice the change in his mood, and the golden dragon growled lowly. Vhagar growled back, but Arrax didn’t seem to mind both of the older dragons, roaring back as his wings flapped with too much enthusiasm. 

Aemond then had his ancient dragon surge forward before swerving to the side to block Aegon and Sunfyre. 

“You fucking twat,” Aegon grumbled. He couldn’t see his brother’s face now but he knew well that Aemond had a smirk on his face.

Arrax seemed to think that it was some type of game, chittering excitedly while Luke had to calm him a little. But then Aemond suddenly gestured in front with his chin, urging Luke and his young dragon to come along. That was the only convincing their dear nephew needed.

Luke sat more properly in his saddle, then without a sliver of hesitance, he had his dragon surge forward in a quick burst. As he approached next to Aemond, the twat decided to push his huge dragon further, increasing the distance between them.

There was a roar coming from Arrax that sounded a lot like confusion, but that didn’t deter Luke. He only had his dragon rush forward, and so the chase began.

Sunfyre hissed, his scales warming under Aegon’s touch. The impulse to take after them was great, Aegon’s mouth was already parted to give his dragon a command, but he didn’t move. Not yet. He stayed there, flying peacefully, as the two dragons danced in front of him.

Arrax was so tiny but he was faster, avoiding every maneuver of the bigger yet slower Vhagar. The sight was akin to a fly trying to bother a horse, it was almost laughable.

Laughter rang in the air. It didn’t sound soft and light—definitely not the sweet tune that always came from his nephew’s lips. No, it was different. It was deep and raspy, yet still evident with boyish glee.

It was his brother, Aegon realized after a while. It had been so long since he heard Aemond laugh that the sound felt strange to him. In fact, he couldn’t even remember the last time he heard his brother laugh. None of his siblings had a proper laugh before their nephews and cousins arrived.

Aegon watched them in silence. His brother and his nephew. It was a moment that he should have expected. His brother who desired his nephew. His nephew who desired his brother. The two spending time together as though there was only them in the world. 

This was what Aegon was trying to accomplish. He had been frustrated whenever Aemond decided to be an idiot and lost the opportunity to be with Luke; he had been helping Luke entice his brother out of the goodness of his heart.

Truthfully, his altruism could be debatable but that was beside the point.

His brother desired his nephew. His nephew desired his brother. Aegon was just an instrument in the middle of it all—an outsider. Just a single man from the audience who wanted to witness chaos and entertainment. Above all else, he wanted to see how the play would turn out; he wanted to see the endpoint even if he already knew it.

Despite that fact, Aegon felt that it was wrong. It didn’t settle right, and his stomach was doing the whole strange thing as though Sunfyre was hurtling down the sky.

His brother wasn’t even talking to Luke the past few days and yet, he was now here like the two of them were the closest friends. Aegon couldn’t help the grinding of his jaws. The sight of them irked him so much he could feel the hair on the back of his neck bristle.

“After them. Quickly,” he commanded his dragon.

Sunfyre didn’t need to be told twice. The golden dragon bolted after them and the wind rushed strongly past Aegon. It didn’t take long for them to catch up.

Aegon could feel the glare from his brother as he pulled next to Luke. There was a surprised look on Luke’s face, quickly replaced by glee as he smiled, brown eyes glinting under the daylight. Aegon felt himself grin back, spreading his arms. When Luke stretched his arms as well, shouting at the top of his lungs, Aegon couldn’t help but laugh.

It didn’t even matter if Aemond was there as they continued their flight. It felt like it was just Aegon and Luke soaring through the skies.

Aegon and Luke. 

And nothing else truly mattered.

+ + +

The flight abruptly ended when Baela complained about being hungry, which started a chain of I’m hungry as well among the rest of them. Joffrey wasn’t happy about it, the rush of his first flight giving him more strength than usual. In the end, Jace had to coax the younger and promise him another flight early in the morrow.

As soon as they landed, Aemond was summoned by their mother for some reason Aegon couldn’t care less about. Jace, Baela, and Joffrey went to the kitchens while Helaena and Rhaena decided to go to the gardens first to get one of Helaena’s pet. 

Before Luke could go after his siblings, Aegon took his arm and pulled him into a corner. He looked around to see if Daemon was anywhere near them. Frankly, Aegon hadn’t seen the man or his dragon during their entire flight but he wouldn’t be surprised if Daemon just appeared out of nowhere with Dark Sister in hand.

Luke looked at him, confused. “What are you doing, uncle?”

“Nothing,” said Aegon too quickly. “Never mind that. We’re going somewhere.”

Though Luke pulled away from his hold, stepping back. There was a slight pout on his pink lips, a frown contorting his brows. “So now you want to talk to me?”

Aegon looked at his nephew. “What do you mean?”

For a moment, Luke chewed on his lip, staring at Aegon as if he was trying to see what was in his head. “Earlier, in the pits… You didn’t even want to talk to me. I thought that maybe after what we did…”

Luke visibly swallowed, shifting on his feet, and Aegon could feel something gnawing at his heart as he waited.

But then Luke shook his head, turning to walk away. “You know what, it doesn’t matter.”

“No, wait—Luke!” Aegon grabbed his nephew’s arm once again to face him. “That was just a misunderstanding. You see, I—”

He abruptly stopped as he saw the figure behind Luke. His nephew noticed the change in his demeanor and turned around to see what he was looking at.

Aegon’s grandfather was walking toward them with patient yet heavy steps. His face was hard, dark eyes narrowing as they always did, reminding Aegon of a hawk. Those same eyes traveled down to Aegon’s hand, still holding onto Luke’s arm, and so Aegon let go of his nephew as though he was burned.

Luke turned to him with a frown, but his nephew didn’t say anything as his grandfather approached them. His tall figure, quite even taller than Daemon, towered over them, eyes peering down.

The gods definitely didn’t want Aegon to have a moment of peace in his life. He already had to deal with Daemon earlier, and now his grandfather was here, which admittedly was far worse than anything could ever happen. Aegon would rather have Daemon see him with Luke, even if that meant that there was a possibility that he would have to face a sharp Valyrian sword. 

“Prince Aegon, Prince Lucerys,” Grandfather greeted with a slight bow. He smiled at them, and it almost looked too genuine that Aegon couldn’t help but shudder.

“Lord Hand,” Luke said with a bow of his own, his voice unwavering.

“Grandfather,” said Aegon, his voice a bit croaky and low.

“What a lovely day, isn’t it?” Grandfather said. “You children must have had a wonderful flight.”

Aegon felt his throat dry. Of course, his grandfather knew about that too. It was hardly a secret anyway. It’d be very difficult not to miss the huge dragons flying over the city. Not to mention the fact that everyone in the Keep knew that Aegon and his siblings had been spending time with their cousins and nephews.

Which arguably might be the whole reason why Grandfather was here.

After all, the last time Aegon had spoken to his grandfather, he wanted Aegon to act like some spymaster of sorts; do his duty and all that. Entertain his nephew, Grandfather had said. Find what the Blacks were planning, Grandfather had said. But Aegon had abruptly left without giving any word.

Noticing Aegon’s lack of response, Luke opened his mouth. But Aegon put a hand on his shoulder, giving it a slight squeeze, which made his nephew immediately stop.

“It was wonderful indeed,” Aegon said, trying his best not to grimace. “I think Helaena had so much fun.”

There was a small smile on Grandfather’s face at the mention of Aegon’s sister. It was a real smile, full of fondness, reserved only for the favorite grandchild. “That’s good, that’s good. And you, my princes? Did you two have fun as well?”

Aegon smiled widely, which might be a bit too much because his jaws started to hurt. “Of course, we did. Everyone had fun. In fact, Luke here had so much fun that he’s now retiring back to his bedchamber.”

Luke turned to him, looking terribly confused. Aegon was terribly confused by his own words and actions as well, but he felt like it was very much needed. He gave his nephew a subtle look, his smile not faltering.

“You’re back to your bedchamber, right, nephew?” he said once more through his smile.

His nephew stared at him for a moment. Aegon could practically feel Luke’s curiosity coming off in waves but to his relief, Luke didn’t fight him against it.

Instead, Luke just nodded, though not without the wariness in his eyes. “Ah. Yes. I was just on my way back to the chambers.”

“I see,” Grandfather said, unable to hide the purse on his lips. “I hope you'll be able to rest comfortably, my prince.”

“Thank you, Lord Hand.”

Luke nodded curtly before looking at Aegon. His eyes were still full of questions, but all Aegon could do at the moment was smile reassuringly at his nephew. Luke’s lips pressed into a thin line, and with one last bow at Aegon and his grandfather, Luke walked away.

When Luke was gone from their sight and his footsteps out of their earshot, Grandfather’s eyes narrowed at Aegon. 

“You’re really getting quite familiar with your nephew,” his grandfather drawled.

Aegon swallowed the lump forming in his throat. “You told me to do it.”

There was a fragment of surprise in his grandfather’s eyes which was replaced quickly by eagerness. “And? What have you found?”

“Well…” Aegon fought the urge to bite the insides of his lips. “It turns out, Luke is very good at evading questions. He doesn’t even talk about politics—not even Driftmark.”

Grandfather raised an eyebrow. “So there’s nothing as of now? Not even your expedition to a brothel could loosen his tongue?”

Everything ceased to be. Aegon felt his breath halting, his whole body becoming rigid. He was like a vase that someone accidentally bumped into, tilted at its foot, all but ready to fall on the floor and break into tiny little pieces.

He couldn’t even look at his grandfather.

Daemon had known.

And now Grandfather knew as well.

Aegon was certain he would be a dead man come the morrow.

“I… Um—that was…” His tongue felt too heavy. Every word in his vocabulary just simply vanished.

Grandfather took a deep breath. “I appreciate the great lengths that you have to take, my prince. But perhaps, the bastard doesn't have the same proclivities as you. Find his interests then maybe he’ll open up to you.”

Aegon stared at his grandfather, unblinking. 

His grandfather didn’t look angry. Did he look disappointed? Yes, a little. Probably due to the lack of information. But Grandfather wasn’t looking at him with disdain. In fact, there was a little bit of pride swimming in his eyes.

“Right,” Aegon said finally, clearing his throat. Everything felt surreal; he wasn’t even sure if it was actually happening or if it was just a product of his inebriety. “I’ll take that into consideration. I’ll get you that information, grandsire.”

Then the most jarring thing happened. Grandfather smiled genuinely as he patted Aegon’s shoulder. “You’re doing a fine job, just a great prince would do.”

Aegon felt dizzy. He could only smile back at his grandfather.

“Don’t let me keep you. You must be exhausted as well from your flight,” Grandfather said.

“Y-Yes,” Aegon stammered. “I will just go to my bedchamber. I’ll let you know if I find something.”

Grandfather gave him a slight bow. “Of course. Rest well,  Aegon.”

As Aegon went back to his bedchamber, he could feel the hard pounding of his heart in his chest. Grandfather knows, but he doesn’t know all. Aegon felt like fishbones were plucked out from his throat. He quickened his steps.

Who else knew? Aegon wondered.

Did Mother know? Did Rhaenyra know? 

Did Aemond know?

Though the fact that Aegon was still alive and breathing suggested that perhaps not a lot of people knew. He could only imagine the mayhem if the rest of the family found out. And truthfully, Aegon would be fine about it.

Would he be afraid for his life? Definitely. But would he survive? Yes. Or at least, Aegon liked to think so. No harm should come to him. At least, not a fatal one, he thought, as he was a prince of the realm; the firstborn son of the King.

Luke, on the other hand… Aegon wasn’t so sure his nephew would survive being under their family’s scrutinizing gaze like that. Luke might have that inferno inside him, but it was uncontrollable still. He was too sheltered, too delicate. It wasn’t even long ago when Luke’s mother had to fight for his status as heir for him. And even if Rhaenyra and Daemon managed to protect him physically—and Aegon had no doubts that they would be able to—they wouldn’t be able to protect all of Luke.

Fuck. This was never in Aegon’s plan. All he wanted was to enjoy his time, have his freedom, and perhaps annoy his nephews and his little brother, but now everything was getting out of control. Aegon was never one to pray, but he was definitely praying now.

He threw the doors to his chamber open and stormed inside. However, a figure sitting on his bed made him stop in his tracks.

“Luke?” Aegon whispered, brows furrowing. He went back to shut his doors and latch the lock, ensuring that Ser Erryk or any other servants weren’t in sight. “What are you doing here, nephew?”

The sight of his nephew in his room wasn’t new to him, and still, it knocked the breath away from Aegon’s lungs. The fact that Luke was sitting  on his bed didn’t help. The combination of Luke and a bed was only bringing certain memories to Aegon’s mind.

A lavish room. Silk sheets. Shattered whines and broken moans. The long limbs, the sore pink ass, the curls that pooled messily. Dark brown eyes blazing with an inferno.

Luke sat up from his bed, breaking Aegon’s thoughts. His nephew was no longer in his riding clothes which meant he did go back to his bedchamber. Though that didn’t answer why was he in Aegon’s room.

There was a tinge of crimson on Luke’s cheeks as he looked at Aegon, brown eyes wet, and his bottom lip caught between teeth. Not in an alluring manner, but rather in an anxious manner.

“Luke? What’s wrong? Did something happen?” 
  
Did Luke find out that other people know? Was he upset?

Aegon took a step forward. “Luke, what happened?”

Luke looked him in the eyes, pink lips parting.

“I-I kissed Aemond.”

Chapter Text

I-I kissed Aemond.

Aegon was certain that the world was spinning. Was it because of the wine? No, that couldn’t be right. Aegon hadn’t had a single drop of alcohol today; he hadn’t been drinking for some days now.

So why was everything blurring and spinning and his head felt like it was about to split into two? Why was his heart beating too fast in his chest as though the knights were chasing him to bring him back home?

Everything ceased to be. Aegon couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything. The world had turned upside down, and he was falling into an endless pit of the void.

“Uncle?”

Aegon turned his head in a snap, his eyes meeting those pretty brown ones. Luke was staring at him expectantly, waiting for him to say something. 

Gods, what should I even say? Is there even anything to say, at all?

When Luke took a step forward, Aegon stepped back. The movement was caught by his nephew’s eyes, who immediately halted, face crestfallen.

This was the plan, Aegon reminded himself as he took a deep breath. He was just an instrument in all of this push and pull between his nephew and his brother. And now, Aegon bore the fruits of his labor.

Luke and Aemond had been fated right from the start. Luke took Aemond’s eye out, and Aemond became obsessed with him. That obsession turned to something akin to infatuation, and of course, that feeling was reciprocated as well. Luke and Aemond were meant to be. 

They were fated. 

Clearing his throat, Aegon said, “Congratulations, nephew. My brother didn’t have the courage so you finally made the big move.”

His nephew chewed on his lip, shifting his weight between his feet. “I… Yes, I did.”

“What, that’s it? No thank you’s?” Aegon chuckled but it felt dry. He looked away, not wanting to see Luke’s face—his dark eyes that always pulled Aegon in. “Though seeing that you are here in my bedchamber instead of my brother’s, I assume something went wrong. I bet Aemond just stood there like an absolute idiot and did nothing. So now you’re here to ask for my help. Again. But I’m afraid I can’t be of help right now, nephew, because I am terribly busy.”

“Busy?” came Luke’s voice, and it sounded quite demanding. Strained at the edges, but nagging nonetheless. “You’re never busy.”

Aegon scoffed, turning to his nephew. Gone was Luke who was about to shake like a leaf because of another rejection from Aemond. Here stood the boy with endless fire in his eyes, ready to attack. “Well, now I’m busy so you have to go away, Luke.”

“No,” Luke said, face hardening. Aegon only saw his nephew like this when his family was targeted. He couldn’t think of any reason why Luke would act like this now. Did Aegon somehow offend Rhaenyra’s brood without knowing again?

“I’m afraid that’s not up for debate, Luke. You have to go.”

“You’re not busy. You just want to avoid me again,” Luke said, frowning. He took a small step forward, his hand raising as if to grab Aegon. But then he closed his fist and let his arm fall down by his side. “Don’t avoid me, uncle.”

His voice sounded small, jittering even. His brown eyes were like pools of dark honey, full to the brim and ready to spill. Aegon felt the hard tug in his chest, but he buried it deep, deep, deep into the ground. 

“I’m not avoiding you,” Aegon said with a roll of his eyes. “Why would I avoid you? I’m just quite preoccupied with other things to give you more lessons on how to seduce my brother.”

“I’m not here for that.” Luke shifted his weight between his feet again, rubbing his arm as though someone had pushed him. 

Aegon paused. He opened his mouth only to close it again, staring at his nephew with blinking eyes. Then he opened his mouth again. “You kissed my brother and that didn’t work out for you. What else could you be in my room for?”

Silence surrounded them as Aegon watched Luke. Everything ceased to be once more, and Aegon couldn’t hear anything. He couldn’t see anything but the boy in front of him—his rosy lips, his flushed cheeks, his eyes that still flickered with fire. Burning eternally. Consuming Aegon whole.

He didn’t know how long they stood there, just looking at each other. All Aegon knew was that by the time he turned his gaze away, his heart was all but ready to tear out of his chest and escape from its suffocating cage. 

If Luke wouldn’t leave him alone then he’d be the one to leave. Aegon needed to get away. He didn’t know what was happening to him. He felt sick. He felt light, yet everything also felt heavy. He needed to get away.

One step was all Aegon could do before Luke grabbed him by the arm and pushed him to sit on the bed. The air in his lungs felt thin, dissipating into nothingness. Luke’s hands remained on his shoulders, keeping him on the bed, his touch burning through Aegon’s clothes.

“I’m not here for a lesson, uncle,” Luke said.

Aegon’s throat felt constricted. “I wouldn’t be your shoulder to cry on, nephew. Helaena would be more suited for that. I believe she’s great at comforting people, but you would have to listen to her ramblings first and perhaps interact with her insects and you’re quite—”

“Kiss me.”

And just like that, the world spun faster than it had ever been. If Aegon weren’t already sitting on the bed, he was certain his knees would give out now and he would fall on the floor.

This was a dream, conjured up by his traitorous mind. Perhaps some sort of hallucination from whatever suspicious food he had eaten. It wouldn’t be the first time; he had his fair share of such experiences in Flea Bottom. Or maybe this was the afterlife—some sort of eternal punishment catered for him alone in the seven hells just like his mother had always said.

Whatever this might be, Aegon was certain about one thing: This wasn’t real.

Because Luke would never want Aegon to kiss him. 

He didn’t want to kiss Aegon back when they were in the brothel, and he certainly wouldn’t start wanting to kiss Aegon now. Luke fancied Aemond, not Aegon. Luke had already kissed his brother and was left alone. This was nothing more than to soothe his wounded ego.

Shaky breaths. Close proximity. The scent of spiced rum. Leaning in. A flinch. Dark eyes filled with hesitance. Just a student and a mentor. Nothing more.

This was not real. 

Aegon pushed him away. “Don’t say things you don’t mean.”

Luke stumbled back, face struck with dismay. “But I do! I mean it!”

A laughter came out of Aegon’s throat, harsh and reverberating all over the chamber. “Why? Are you playing some kind of game that includes kissing all of your uncles? Should I send a raven for Daeron to come back from Oldtown?”

“You’re doing it again. You’re being mean,” Luke mumbled. There was a small frown contorting his soft face. Aegon would have found it adorable if he weren’t so confused and frustrated at the moment. 

“Look, nephew,” Aegon started with a sigh. “I know that Aemond leaving you all alone after kissing him isn’t what you had in mind, but perhaps, it is now time to accept that some things are just the way they are! You can’t change them no matter how hard you try.” 

Luke scoffed. “I told you I’m not here for a lesson!”

Aegon scoffed harder just because he could, though it wasn't as satisfying as he thought it would be. “Then why would you want me to kiss you?” he spat.

It was as if Luke had been smacked on the face with the way his eyes went wide and his mouth gaped like a fish out of the water. Little Lord Strong wasn’t thinking clearly indeed. Aegon would’ve laughed in his face if his throat wasn’t as dry as the deserts of Dorne.

The day already had been a long one. As much as it was fun to go on a fly with Sunfyre, being in the sky for hours could be quite exhausting. Aegon wanted nothing more than just to dive into the comforts of his bed and sleep the rest of the day off. He didn’t need this, whatever this might be, but his dear nephew wouldn’t seem to move—a tree log petrified in time.

Aegon shook his head. He ought to get out now, and he ought to get out fast. He needed to get away. Standing up and maneuvering his nephew out of the way, Aegon was about to leave when Luke grabbed him by the lapels of his riding coat and promptly pulled him by the neck for a kiss.

The thing was, Aegon was not entirely new to kisses made out of lack of thinking. He had been in this situation too many times, more as the one who initiated rather than as the one at the receiving end—which very well earned him unforgettable slaps on the face but that was beside the point. 

The thing was, Aegon knew a lot about kisses. He knew a lot about the matters of the flesh, carnal desires, and all kinds of debauchery. He was a master in these sinful things his mother would never approve of. 

And yet now, it felt like he knew nothing at all. Every knowledge he had, every experience in the brothels, every night spent inebriated in the streets of the city, all of it had burst into flames. Scorched into ashes until there was nothing left.

It was like Aegon was a child again, sneaking a kiss to the first servant who showed him the tiniest bit of kindness. This time, however, Aegon was the servant, all frozen up dumbly like the Wall as Luke’s sweet, soft lips pressed against his.

Aegon was never one to freeze. He was good at adapting to his surroundings. No coins to pay for his drinks? He could keep the barkeeper talking as a distraction. His mother wanted him to be present at court? He could find the fastest route to the city and get himself drunk in a matter of seconds. Too drunk to find his way back to the Keep? He could settle down in the nearest comfortable spot in the street and sleep without a care in the world.

For every unexpected situation, Aegon just knew the right way to act and adapt. But now Aegon couldn’t move. He couldn’t think. He couldn’t scream to let out what his mind truly felt. He was frozen and he was burning at the same time. 

He was burning and burning and burning, engulfed in the inferno that was Lucerys Velaryon.

Was this how Aemond felt like? To be suddenly trapped in a corner by Luke, his mind melting and bending like the five towers in Harrenhal when Aegon the Conqueror descended upon it. 

Slowly, Luke pulled away, brown eyes staring expectantly into his own. Aegon stood there, blinking, mind spinning like the four wheels of a carriage going down the hill with no coachman. 

Aegon didn’t know whether the heavy breathing between them came from him or his nephew. Perhaps it came from both of them. It didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.

Licking his lips, Aegon stepped forward and closed in on Luke, breathing in deeply. Even after flying in the skies for hours, that flowery scent still lingered as though it was permanently adhered to Luke. The boy didn’t step back, eyes unblinking, darkening like the blackest of nights. “You should leave, nephew. You don’t know what you’re getting into.”

Luke only shook his head. Ever the stubborn brat. “I’m not leaving.”

“I wouldn’t stop, you know,” Aegon said, voice low. “I’d just take whatever pleases me and I wouldn’t fucking care about what you want.”

“I don’t care.” Luke’s voice had never sounded so firm. So certain. His hands found their way again onto the lapels of Aegon’s riding coat. His grip was tight, knuckles almost white. “I’m not leaving, uncle.”

Aegon’s hand was steady as he held Luke by the back of his neck. His eyes glazed all over his nephew’s face, searching for something, anything, that can answer the questions rushing in his head, but he only found himself captivated by the sight before him. All these little details that Aegon had seen many times and yet, they entranced him still. 

The little moles flecking Luke’s warm cheeks. The flutter of his long lashes. The way his lips parted, pink and wet and just begging to be taken. To be devoured.

So Aegon did.

This kiss was far different from their first one. It was full of heat and desperation as if the two of them waited long for this. Aegon certainly did—and the fantasies in his head were nothing compared to reality.

A small whimper came out of Luke, his parted lips presenting Aegon with everything he had to offer. Aegon anticipated the taste of wine bursting in his mouth, but something warm and sweeter came instead. Like hot honey, dripping down his throat viscously, and he couldn’t do anything but gobble it all down.

He had never felt so starved, so parched, as though he had been deprived of everything for years. He was no better than a hungry dragon presented with a flock of sheep, too rapacious and vicious. The blood in his veins was singing, his fingers trembling with want as his hands found their way on either side of Luke’s face, pulling him in, pressing their bodies closer. 

It wasn’t enough. He pulled away, groaning when he heard Luke’s whine, shaking with desperation. Every lungful of air Aegon took felt thin and hot as if there was too much of it and not enough at the same. He wanted to capture Luke’s lips again, but he had more important things to take care of first.

Moving the two of them to the bed was easy, Luke was pliant in his arms, almost like a putty clay to be molded according to whatever Aegon desired. Getting Luke out of his clothes, however, proved to be a more difficult task despite his previous encounters.

Before, Aegon’s fingers were adept in unbuttoning Luke’s doublet, laced with swift ease from experience. Though Luke was still in his dragonriding gear, which had more straps than that of normal clothes. That, and the fact that Aegon felt like his whole body was burning, his mind too hazy to move steadily like he wanted—a simple thing like this suddenly became as difficult as solving numbers with the maesters.

Luke laughed, mirth ringing in his voice when it took Aegon too long to remove his boots. The sound of it felt light, and Aegon found himself smiling as well, the muscles in his shoulders relaxing, allowing him to unfasten the straps with less trouble.

As soon as Luke was stripped out of his clothes, Aegon couldn’t bring himself not to pounce again like a mad animal. His hands were all over Luke in an instant, mapping every expanse of his body, the soft skin under his palms rippling with heat that he couldn’t pull away from. 

He didn’t have the same privilege when they were in the brothel. At the time, Aegon still felt like he was walking in an unknown territory, holding himself back as he was uncertain about what he was allowed and was not allowed to do. That was a moment of learning for his nephew, even if he did take it for granted. A teacher showing the ins and outs of pleasure to his dear student. Nothing more.

The current circumstance was different, and not one that Aegon could ever have expected. Even as he took a pause for but a brief moment, just to allow himself to take it all in, to sear the image of Luke, stark naked, his dark curls pooling on the bed like spilled spiced rum, looking up at Aegon with a blazing look that only one could describe as desire—Aegon couldn’t believe what was happening.

Never mind his bewilderment. Aegon had more pressing matters to attend to.

So he didn’t hold himself back. He positioned right next to Luke, touching his nephew once more, committing every curve and plane of Luke’s body to memory. Though patience left Luke’s being as he arched his back with a cry, chasing Aegon’s touch like a moth to a fire. Aegon couldn’t help but toy with his already hardened nipples, relishing the quiver that ran down Luke’s entire body.

“Remove your clothes, uncle,” Luke said breathily, hands flailing as if he was reaching out to do it himself. Aegon chuckled at his demanding tone, which definitely didn’t match the state of him. Looking already fucked out before they even started.

Aegon spared his nephew the work and removed his own clothes instead. It was easier this time, having already practiced with Luke’s gear earlier. Even though the sun was high up in midday, Aegon felt the chill of the air as he took off his garments one by one, the fine hair on his skin rising. He chucked all the clothes somewhere behind him, not caring when it sounded like they hit a candelabra.

The cold in his limbs melted away as soon as he went back to the bed, sitting right next to Luke, sucking a breath between his teeth as he made contact with Luke’s scorched skin. He wanted to take time exploring every inch of Luke’s body once more, but ever the impatient brat that his nephew was, Luke pulled him down to a kiss instead.

A deep groan rumbled out of his chest as Luke licked against his lips, asking for more. There was a hint of awkwardness in Luke’s movements, a clear indication of his inexperience, but there was eagerness too, with the way he grasped and chased Aegon as small whines escaped his throat, which Aegon found a little more than endearing.

Pulling away from Luke’s lips, Aegon moved down to his jaw, nibbling and pressing open-mouthed kisses on the skin before creeping further down to reach his neck. He licked a strip with the flat of his tongue, gathering the salty remnants of sweat from their dragonriding activity earlier, sucking on a sweet spot that had Luke bending his body to feel his skin closer.

Aegon lapped up the spot, already knowing that it would bloom into a darker shade later on. He didn’t care. In fact, he wanted more. He wanted to see Luke’s unblemished skin be full of marks of his own making. He wanted to admire them; he wanted to brandish them for all the Seven Kingdoms to see.

He traced the areas that he had ravaged so far, grinning salaciously when Luke jerked under the blunt rake of his fingers. Luke, as he learned, was quite sensitive and reacted to even the faintest of touches. Aegon took his time getting every bit of reaction from Luke, touching him where his lips had previously been, pressing his thumbs against the skin tendered by his teeth.

Not a long time had passed and Luke’s reddened chest was heaving, his lips parted and shining with spit, his eyelids fluttering and struggling to be kept open. He was the perfect image of a wanton mess. Aegon wanted to fuck him into the oblivion.

“M-More,” Luke said with a gasp, but then he grabbed Aegon’s hands to stop him. Aegon raised an eyebrow, ready to question his contradictory actions, but Luke brought his hand between his legs. Where his weeping cock was waiting. Where his hole remained untouched. “I want more, Uncle Aegon.”

“Fuck,” Aegon hissed under his breath, his own cock twitching against his thigh. “Always a greedy little thing, aren’t you? What more do you want?”

Luke responded but the words were lost to the mumble of his breath. Crimson rushed to his cheeks and he turned his head, avoiding Aegon’s eyes.

“Go on, nephew. I can’t grant you what you want if I can’t hear it. What do you want?”

Visibly swallowing, Luke set his gaze back to Aegon, his trembling lips caught between his teeth. Fire coiled in Aegon’s loins, the embers licking up at his core and up his chest. Entranced by the sight before him, he was certain he wouldn’t be able to look away even if he wanted to. 

“I want—I want your fingers inside me again. Please.”

And how could he say no when Luke was so enticing when pleading? He almost burned in his spot, and it was a hard-won battle against the urge to ram his fingers inside Luke in that instant.

Leaning over Luke, Aegon reached out and rummaged through the table beside his bed. The state of it was unsurprisingly messy but he did find what he was looking for: a jar of oil.

With the oil in hand, he parted Luke’s legs and positioned himself between them. The exposure to the air made Luke shiver, and as Aegon lifted his legs up, pushing them against his chest to gain more access to his backside, he couldn’t help but press a kiss to the side of Luke’s knees, the supple skin gliding against his lips. 

He poured oil onto his fingers and took his time warming it, remembering how Luke found it too cold when they were in the brothel. Then when he deemed it warm enough, he set the jar aside and lowered his hand where Luke had been craving it the most.

“At ease, Luke,” he told his nephew, palming his thigh with his dry hand. With his words, the boy took a deep breath and finally relaxed. 

Aegon circled his finger around the puckered hole, pink and already fluttering. Luke’s breath hitched as he eased his finger in, the tender walls wrapping around his digit, the heat of it making him hiss. 

Slowly, he fucked Luke with his finger. The memories of their adventure in the Street of Silk came back to him, the bliss of familiarity making his cock ache in its hardness. Aegon couldn’t help but hasten his pace, satisfaction rushing through him when Luke let out a breathy moan.

Luke seemed to adjust quickly, and soon, he was already whining, asking for another finger inside him. Aegon didn’t waste a second to heed the request, spreading his fingers to stretch Luke’s hole which didn’t meet much resistance.

“Gods,” he said with a chuckle. “How many times have you done this since we went to the brothel? You are taking my fingers like an experienced whore. I wager I can just slam my cock in and your loosened hole will be able to take it.”

A broken gasp came out of Luke, the muscles in his body tautening, and the heat around Aegon’s fingers gripped him tightly. Luke was desperately trying to come up with a retort to defend himself, but only incoherent mumbles slipped out of his lips. 

Just when he was about to finally speak, Aegon curled his fingers, pressing against that spot that had Luke choking out a cry. Aegon felt the beautiful sound of it in his bones. He repeated the movement, feeling his cock already leak with every moan and squirming that Luke made. 

He had been in this position once—his fingers deep inside Luke, giving him pleasure—but Luke had been on his hands and knees then. Aegon could only see the curve of his back, the dip of his spine, and the little trembles of his shoulders. While it made Aegon’s blood sing, being reminded of that fateful dinner that arguably started this all, it couldn’t be compared to seeing the plethora of emotions crossing Luke’s face as he writhed under his ministrations.

So when Luke threw an arm over his eyes, Aegon was quick to swat his limb away. “Don’t. I want to see you.”

Luke keened, high in the back of his throat, his hips canting to chase more of Aegon’s fingers. Aegon pressed onto that spot again, making Luke jerk, head throwing back and baring his neck, his pretty cock bouncing against his thigh, a pearl of moisture gathering at the tip.

Beauty such as his nephew’s should never be hidden and wasted. Aegon was fairly certain that the very image of Lucerys Velaryon, fucking onto his fingers in his bed, could rival even the most revered gods. He was a divine brought into existence; an undying whirl of flame that was going to be Aegon’s unmaking.

Aegon couldn’t help thinking about the opportunity that his brother just lost yet again. It was ridiculous at this point. After the exhilarating yet tiresome dragonriding they had earlier, Luke was quite determined to forego resting and seek Aemond to finally confront him instead. Though always a fool, Aemond had pushed him away, bringing Luke back to Aegon’s door. 

His nephew could lie to himself all he wanted, but Aegon knew why Luke had come here. He knew why this was happening. Aegon knew his part in all of this, and he understood it very well.

However, that didn’t mean that he liked it.

The flooding thoughts made his chest burn with something pungent and suffocating. It didn’t really matter to him. It shouldn’t matter to him. But frustration and vexation overcame him, turning the plunging of his fingers harsh, drawing out squelching noises that echoed in the room. Luke yelped at the sudden change of pace but welcomed it with another trembling moan a second later.

Another finger was added, and Luke was surely taking it like an experienced whore. It was even better than a whore—his sweet cries that were not exaggerated in any way, his hips bucking to meet the thrusts of Aegon’s fingers as though his body already committed this to memory, his dark brown eyes that had been struggling to meet Aegon’s but were now unwavering, looking into his soul.

“Inside me,” Luke said then, his breathy tone almost lost in the cacophony of sloppy wet sounds. For a moment, Aegon was confused as to what he had said, after all, his fingers were already inside Luke. But then Luke reached out an arm, his hand grasping for Aegon, trying to pull him. “I want your cock inside me.”

Desperation and desire bled through his words. Luke, who had been so innocent not too long ago, afraid to voice out his words, not knowing the matters of pleasure, now saying vulgar things without faltering. Aegon let out an animalistic growl. He felt like he was bursting out of the seams.

Immediately pulling out his fingers, Aegon grabbed for the jar of oil again. Luke whimpered at the loss of contact, his hole gaping and clenching on nothing. 

Aegon poured more oil on his palm before slathering it onto his shaft, his actions graceless and uncoordinated, the excess oil dripping onto the sheets. He didn’t bother stroking himself to hardness, not when his length was raging red, ready to spill any time soon.

Wiping his hand onto the sheets, he grabbed Luke’s hips and lifted him to turn him around. But then Luke made a sound of protest, backing away from him, almost kicking him in the abdomen.

“What are you doing?” Luke asked, his forehead furrowed.

“Turning you around,” said Aegon, blinking at his nephew.

Luke’s frown deepened. “Is that necessary?”

“No,” Aegon answered. “I mean, it’d be easier that way. Though there are different positions to choose from. You can definitely try whatever you like, but I have been told that being on your stomach is more comfortable for the receiver, and it allows for deeper penetration—”

Suddenly, Luke pressed a finger against his lips, effectively shutting him up. “Uncle, I told you, this is not a lesson. You do not need to explain at length.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Besides,” Luke said, the tone of his voice turning lower and sultry, catching Aegon’s full attention once more. He leaned back on his elbows, smiling at Aegon. “I want to do it on my back.”

Aegon chuckled. “So I’ll do all the work? You’re like a princess, Luke.”

“Isn’t that how most couples do it?” Luke said, raising an eyebrow. Aegon froze at his choice of words, his mouth agape. Before he could respond, before he could even think of anything, Luke added in a small voice, “I also want to see you while we do it.”

Engulfed in dragon flames that were his nephew’s words, Aegon could do nothing but stare, his throat drying like a desert. He waited for Luke to retract his words, perhaps say that it was a jest, but Luke was just staring back at him.

It was strange. Aegon couldn’t make sense of it. He knew Luke’s preferences. His nephew favored tall, lithe men with straight pale hair, possibly with one purple eye and a sapphire stone as a replacement for the other. 

The only similarities Aegon had with such a description were his silver-gold hair and lilac eyes. Even then, they were quite different from the pale hair and deep violet eyes that Luke liked. Aegon wasn’t just what his nephew was looking for.

And yet, Luke wanted to see him. He wanted to face him while they did it.

It truly didn’t make any sense.

Luke seemed to run out of patience with him as his nephew suddenly grabbed his shoulders and pulled him down. Aegon let out an embarrassing squawk, putting his hands on the bed to prevent his descent on Luke. He found himself hovering above his nephew, looking right at his dark eyes that seemed to burn brighter than the sun.

“Luke,” said Aegon in a breathy tone.

“Do you not want to do it?” Luke’s voice was low, quavery on the edges that made him sound like he was abashed. Or perhaps embarrassed. Aegon tried to look for the exact emotion in his eyes but it was difficult to focus when he had a naked Luke under him.

“Of course, I do,” Aegon said. He was about to add more to his answer when Luke captured his lips once again.

There were no complaints from Aegon, easily melting into the heated body underneath him. Luke’s movements were frantic, frenzied with hunger that Aegon kept par with as he licked into Luke’s mouth. His cock had softened a little during their short interlude but was coming back to full hardness again as their kiss turned into something more with teeth than tongue.

Aegon’s teeth caught Luke’s bottom lip, unable to resist himself from biting down, a faint taste of copper bursting on his tongue. Luke whimpered, his back arching, his hip brushing against Aegon’s cock, the glide sticky from the oil still dripping from his length.

He gave his shaft a few more tugs to warm up the lubrication, his breathing coming in deep, heavy pants. Luke parted his legs wider, pulling them back by the knees, presenting his hole like he was asking to be bred.

The thought of it, despite its impossibility, rattled something in Aegon’s core. He imagined what it would be like: to fuck his seed into Luke, have his belly swell with a child albeit his lack of a womb. Aegon never desired to have kids, but the very idea of impregnating his very obvious cock-bearing nephew woke up something ferocious inside him.

Pulling Luke by his hips and pushing his legs up, Aegon finally lined up his cock against Luke’s waiting, glistening hole. He rubbed his tip against the rim, and Luke bucked his hips as if pursuing his length, already wanting to spear himself full.

So Aegon indulged his wants. He slowly pushed his cock in, his breath almost stopping short with the way Luke’s tender walls engulfed his cockhead in a tight heat. He had to take a pause and gather his bearings unless he wanted to finish this quickly. 

There had been numerous times when he fantasized about this—their time in the brothel coming back to him, when he had to pretend that his fingers were his cock instead. Though none of those figments could ever live up to the reality he was facing now. Not even the thousands of tomes in the libraries of the Citadel could ever come up with words to wholly describe the tingling rapture in his body.

Burying his cock to the hilt, Aegon let out a deep grunt, his grip on the back of Luke’s thighs was so firm he was certain it would leave bruises. Not that he cared—neither did Luke with the way he was sucking in Aegon’s cock. Luke felt so tight and hot around him, and Aegon took a few breaths before finally pulling back his hips.

The slow drag of his cock was accompanied by a moan dragged out of Luke’s throat. Aegon pushed back in, shuddering and sucking through his teeth. Slowly, he found his rhythm, every snap of his hips had fire licking up his core. He felt like he was falling apart and being put back together again.

Luke wasn’t doing any better than he was. Every thrust that Aegon made jostled his body, his hands grasping at anything for purchase, his head turning to the side as though he was losing himself as well. A litany of noises spilled out of his lips, a scramble of words that Aegon could never assemble, along with drool that dribbled down his chin.

“Gods. You feel incredible, Luke.”

He was answered with another stream of broken sobs, Luke’s face twisting in a beautiful blend of pain and pleasure. “P-Please!”

Aegon didn’t know what his nephew was pleading for. He leaned down instead, effectively folding Luke in half, before kissing him, swallowing Luke’s sweet cries as his hips pistoned in and out of him with more force. He pulled back again just to watch how his cock slid out of Luke’s hole, his length glistening with oil that gave an obscene squelch when he fucked back into Luke.

Harsh pants reverberated in the room, the air between them turning humid. Aegon leaned back on his haunches, grabbing Luke’s legs and wrapping them around his waist. He grabbed onto Luke’s hips and pulled them, meeting his thrust halfway, their skins loudly slapping against each other.

The new position punched a gasp out of Luke’s chest, his back arching like a bow, hands gripping the sheets. Aegon bit down on his bottom lip with a groan and fucked his nephew with a purpose.

Luke was a debauched mess, almost delirious, his head lolling around, saliva continuing to drool down, leaving wet spots on the sheets. Aegon felt the same delirium, and he wasn’t sure how he could still keep at it. How he could pound into Luke without reaching his peak yet.

He wasn’t certain how he could still speak either, the words just loosening on his tongue. “You’re really enjoying this, aren’t you, Luke? Fuck. You’re better than any whore. It feels like you’re made for this. You’re made to take my fucking cock.”

“N-Ngh—” Aegon didn’t know whether it was a yes or a no that Luke intended to say. Nevertheless, the tightening of his walls, sucking his cock further in, told Aegon that Luke was very much liking every single bit of what they were doing.

Luke looked up at him, dark eyes almost brimming with tears. His lips, raw and perpetually parted, exhaled heavy breaths. He had never looked so divine. Speared on Aegon’s cock, reduced to a babbling shambles.

Aegon could only continue fucking him senseless.

Despite Aegon’s thrust constantly shoving him up the bed, the plunging of cock in his abused hole ripping cries out of his throat, Luke’s dark gaze never left Aegon again. It was as if he could see into the very pit of Aegon’s being; his soul.

Mesmerized, head hazy in passion and lust, Aegon couldn’t find it in himself to look away even if he wanted to. So it was clear in his vision when Luke opened his mouth, lips shaping around the word that Aegon was familiar with.

“Ae—“

Before Luke could finish it, Aegon swooped down to capture his lips, the rest of his words reduced in a garbled noise between them before eventually turning into a series of moans. And Aegon took them all in, savoring them on his tongue and swallowing them down like the finest of wines.

He supposed it was inevitable, but he didn’t want to hear it. Body pressed against Luke, almost bearing his weight down on him, Aegon rutted his hips relentlessly, his cockhead hitting that tender spot that immediately killed any words in Luke’s throat. 

Arms wrapped around Aegon’s chest, soft hands grasping at his back so harsh blunt nails left a stinging wake on his skin. Aegon groaned but never left Luke’s lips, devouring him until his own lips were starting to numb.

Flames were building up inside him, unfurling from the coils in his core. He buried his face in the juncture of Luke’s neck and shoulder, biting hard onto the tender skin and enjoying the shudder that wracked through the boy’s body.

Aegon rammed into Luke mercilessly, the squelching and smacking only becoming louder. The heat set ablaze on the little space they had between them, and sweat beaded up on their skins. Aegon could feel it, the fires inside them mixing together, ready to swallow them whole.

And in the throes of their united fire, did Aegon ever gladly burn.

+ + +

When Aegon woke up again, the orange hues of twilight were spilling through the windows, beaming down directly onto his eyes. Groaning, he tried to avoid it by squeezing his eyelids harder and turning to the other side, nudging a limb next to him in the process.

It wasn’t uncommon for Aegon to wake up in the Keep with a warm body next to him, but it was usually accompanied by a raging headache and completely no recollection of last night’s events. Which was strange. Because Aegon seemed to remember what happened the night before, and his memories didn’t include any forms of alcohol.

He stilled and promptly opened his eyes, his breath catching in his throat as the blur in his eyesight slowly cleared. For a moment, he thought that maybe there was alcohol involved indeed the night prior and he couldn’t remember anything again. 

Long eyelashes fluttered open, the light of the setting sun casting long shadows against his cheeks, and Aegon found himself staring at the loveliest face he had ever seen. 

“Hello.”

There was a smile pulling Luke’s lips, almost bashful as red bloomed on his skin. Before Aegon knew it, his hand was moving on its own, reaching forward to push the stray curl that fell over Luke’s eyes. The smile on Luke’s face brightened, and there was a sudden warmth in Aegon’s chest that he couldn’t explain.

Moments of what transpired earlier flashed in his mind, and Aegon remembered the full of it.

Tight, wet heat around his cock. Debauched squelching and slapping of skins. Brimming brown eyes and sweet noises, head turning restlessly. Nails scratching his back, lips swallowing his animalistic groans. Flame ablaze, skins on fire, burning them together. 

It was real. Not a dream, not a day’s fantasy, not a creeping thought that kept gnawing in the back of his mind. Luke was in his bed, as tangible as he could get and as pretty as the day Aegon saw him in the throne room all those weeks ago.

“Hello, Luke.”

Luke turned and laid on his back, giving Aegon a side view of his face. The slope of his nose was different from his mother’s or his siblings. The bridge wasn’t as high and the tip was more upturned, which gave Aegon the urge to tap it playfully, but he found the thought silly so he pushed it down instead. 

Comfortable silence settled between them as Luke continued to stare at the ceiling. The exhilaration in his eyes was still evident, and Aegon felt that same delight spread in his chest, giddy as if he were a child again who completed his first flight with Sunfyre. Aegon basked in the moment, breathing in deeply. 

Though the silence brought forth something else too, creeping in slowly until it took over. Like a splash of cold water waking his senses up, Aegon suddenly had a clear vision of everything that happened. Not just between him and Luke but as well as the moments before that.

Why Luke was in his chambers. Why he and Luke were even close-knit as of late.

It was a victory in Aegon’s book, and the thought of it should’ve brought him satisfaction. It did in some ways—he would probably never be able to forget how exquisite Luke felt around him. But there was something acrid building on his tongue too, his mother’s voice echoing in his head again. A series of whispers blending into one, becoming corporeal in the form of a familiar man that shared his blood.

Aegon swallowed the dryness in his throat, shaking all those unwanted thoughts away. It wasn’t the time to dwell on things that didn’t matter. Aemond was presented with all the chances, so clear and open, but he was too much of their mother’s son. A puritan, the personification of the Maiden herself, who could never act on his wants. It wasn’t Aegon’s fault if he didn’t make a move.

With a sigh, Aegon sat up and leaned against the headboard, not missing the way Luke’s eyes followed the silk sheets cascading down his hips. All irrelevant thoughts in his mind vanished at once. “Won’t your family look for you? You’ve been gone for the whole day.”

“They probably are,” Luke answered with a giggle. “I’ll just tell them I was exploring the castle again. What about you?”

An ugly snort came out of Aegon. No one was looking for him—unless they needed him for court appearances, which was unlikely at this time since his half-sister was still around. “They probably think I’m drinking away in Flea Bottom. Sometimes, my routine of depravity has its good uses within the castle walls too.”

“I’d want to go there again sometime,” Luke said.

“Where? Flea Bottom?”

Luke turned to him with a grin, his brown eyes reflecting the orange streaks of twilight. “Yes. It was fun. Besides, you haven’t brought me to a playhouse yet.”

Stunned for a moment, Aegon had to go through his mind quickly to remember the exact conversation where a playhouse was mentioned. He looked at Luke with a gaping mouth, blinking. “I’m surprised you still remember that. Though are you sure you’re ready to see a portrayal of yourself? I hear they’re doing one about you and your brothers now.”

Aegon bit his tongue right after the words came out of his mouth. He recalled the visceral reaction Luke had when they had this exchange before—the way his nephew turned aggressive whenever there were unpleasant implications hurled at his family. The sting on his cheek was still vivid.

To his surprise, however, Luke only chuckled. It seemed like the bliss from their fucking still lingered. Aegon silently thanked the gods he didn’t believe in that Luke was in an agreeable temper.

“It doesn’t matter what they think,” Luke said, which surprised Aegon even more. It was quite rare to see this side of his nephew without retaliation first. “You’ve seen me on a dragon. Is that not proof enough of my Targaryen blood?”

Aegon’s laughter resounded through the chamber, his head throwing back at the sheer amusement of the response. It was another instance of Luke being unpredictable—no, not unpredictable. Rather, he was shedding his skin, showing his true colors; the fire in his blood. 

“I suppose it is,” Aegon said finally.

Luke responded with a beaming smile. Then finally, he got up from the bed. Aegon watched in silence as he picked up his garments from the floor, but before he could put them back on, Aegon rushed to get a clean rag from the basin in the corner of his room and gave it to Luke.

“For you to clean,” Aegon said, gesturing at Luke’s backside. “You should wipe yourself first.”

“Oh,” Luke responded, his cheeks burning red. “Thank you.”

Aegon took the time to clean himself as well, wiping away the dried oil and seed from his skin. When he turned back to Luke, his nephew was already putting his clothes on so he slipped into his breeches as well and sat back on the bed.

The room was bathed in silence once more, and reality finally hit Aegon like a kick on his abdomen as he watched Luke put the rest of his garments on. 

It was rather dread-inducing, watching Luke while he remained naked on the bed. Every movement reminded him that this—whatever this might be—was at its end. 

Definitely just like what happened after their visit to the brothel, the next time they meet would be different. A brand new day that would only continue their relations as if nothing had happened. As if Aegon didn’t fuck Luke and shot his load deep into him. As if their lips weren’t bruised and raw, their tongue still with traces of each other’s taste.

Aegon could only mull over whether this would be the last time it’d happen. While Luke clearly had a pleasant time, enjoyed doing it with him, Aegon knew his true desires. He knew that Luke would never be satisfied the way Aegon was; would never feel the intense blaze that he felt in his blood.

His thoughts spiraled down further. It was very unlikely of him to think of the undesirable consequences, but they invaded his mind still. Perhaps this was a mistake rather than a victory. Maybe Aegon was getting ahead of himself. Too imprudent with his actions. 

“It’s not true, you know,” Luke suddenly said, breaking Aegon from his incessant thoughts. He was biting his lip, still not looking at Aegon, entirely focused on adjusting the straps of his coat.

“What is?”

As Luke fastened the last strap, he finally met his gaze. There was already a faint blush crawling up his neck. “When you said that you only take what you want and you don’t care about what I want. Because ever since we had these lessons, you’ve been nothing but considerate of my wishes.”

For a short moment, Aegon could only stare and blink at his nephew. He didn’t know how to respond to Luke’s words. He wouldn’t be able to remember that he made such a statement if Luke didn’t remind him. Was this an insult? Or perhaps a compliment? He couldn’t even recall if he ever received one.

His throat was too parched up, and Aegon desperately wished for wine. Fortunately for him, Luke didn’t seem to be expecting a response. Words still eluding him, Aegon distracted himself with laying the sheets in a tidier way. 

“There, all done,” Luke said as he finally finished.

Although Luke was back in his clothes, Aegon could still recognize the state he was in. His curls were still in disarray, and the faint marks were peeking up from the collar of his coat. Aegon wondered if he should point that out.

The two of them stared at each other for but a moment, Luke’s foot tapping on the floor the only sound in the chamber. Aegon already anticipated it, but it still didn’t prepare him for the heaviness in the pit of his stomach when Luke nodded and turned for the door.

Luke was an arm’s reach from the door when he stopped. Confused, Aegon could only raise a questioning eyebrow at Luke’s back as the boy stood there. Then suddenly, he turned back and ran for the bed where Aegon was still sitting.

It was fast. Aegon was unable to utter a single word as Luke stood in front of him and held his face so tenderly that Aegon couldn’t realize what was happening until he felt the warm lips against him. Luke’s eyes fluttered closed, and so did Aegon’s as he finally kissed Luke back.

He didn’t know who pulled away first, but they were both gasping for air. Luke licked his lips and smiled at him, which shouldn’t be as tantalizing as Aegon’s twitching cock made it seem to be.

”See you on the morrow, Aegon.” 

Clearing his throat, he responded, “Of course, Luke.”

Luke went for the door again. This time, he finally opened it, looking around the hallway first before slipping out of the room, shutting the door gently behind him.

Stupefied, Aegon stared at the closed door, not even noticing that, for the first time ever, Luke only addressed him by his name.

Chapter Text

“Shit. Fuck. Go on. You’re doing good. So good.”

Aegon threw his head back, unable to even recognize that he hit the wall with a light thump. His grip on the mass of curls only tightened as he directed the head in a push-and-pull motion, the wet heat around his length contracting.

Garbled sounds were emitted below him, every lick and slurp reverberating through his shaft, raising goosebumps on the rest of his body. It slowly brought him closer to the edge, his own breathing turning labored.

One deep push made his body convulse, the throat around him squeezing, and he pressed his fist against his mouth to stifle his groan. While it would be quite interesting if the whole Keep knew, he could think of nothing good if he were caught fucking his cock into Luke’s mouth.

His nephew didn’t want to attend his lessons once again so he had come to Aegon instead. Not that Aegon had anything better to do, he was planning to sneak into the wine cellars again and drink the day away, hopefully evading Ser Erryk’s vexing presence at the same time. But spending the day with Luke sounded better so there were no complaints from him when the boy dragged him to another tour around the castle.

It was a bore at the start, Aegon wouldn’t deny. Luke had kept quiet, which was strange when the boy always liked to tell a random tale or ask him a question. The silence made Aegon uneasy, which was only heightened by their steps echoing in the hallways like they were bringing forth doom. 

The last time he was with Luke, he had fucked him into incoherence, and while Luke had been amicable afterward, Aegon wouldn’t put it past his nephew to suddenly change his mind about the matter.

But then Luke’s hand brushed his, sending a jolt of lightning down his spine. The two of them halted and stared at each other, bated breaths replacing the silence. One thing led to another, and they soon found themselves in an empty room, their hands grasping for each other’s clothes.

Looking down, he saw that Luke was staring up at him, his eyes pleading and wet from the few times Aegon’s cock had hit the back of his throat. Aegon raked a hand through his curls, unable to look away as Luke’s eyes rolled to the back of his head.

The whine that Luke emitted was high, muffled by the heavy cock still lodged in his mouth. Aegon couldn’t prevent the moan that came out of his lips, sounding desperate to his ears, which he would normally find embarrassing if it weren’t for the heat building up inside him. The muscles in his abdomen tightened, and his thrusts began to stutter.

Aegon’s eyes squeezed shut, blinding white light burning behind his eyelids, and he buried Luke’s face into the base of his cock. He gasped, body wracked with a shiver as his seed shot into the hot cavern of Luke’s mouth. Luke grabbed onto his hips, his cries stifled as he took it all in pliantly.

When Aegon’s peak subsided, he let go of Luke’s head, allowing the boy to finally pull away and breathe. Luke wiped the corners of his lips with a thumb, putting the dribbling seed back into his mouth.

“You don’t have to swallow it. You can spit it out, Luke,” Aegon said, his breath still heaving.

Luke stopped before he could swallow, looking up at him. He looked like he wanted to say something, but his still seed-filled mouth prevented him from talking so. 

“Just spit it out on the corner,” Aegon urged further. With a slow nod, Luke went to the corner and spat out the liquid.

Meanwhile, Aegon tucked himself back in his breeches. With the bliss in the air waning, his mind cleared, and only did he realize how desolated the room was. The chamber was near the wing of Aegon’s quarters—it was one of those rooms that were reserved for important guests during grand celebrations in the capital. On the days when there were no visitors, however, the room was mostly occupied by cobwebs and crickets.

From the corner, Luke dusted off his clothes and turned around. Aegon approached him, cupping his cheek and wiping the corner of his mouth with a thumb. “I wasn’t too rough, was I?” he asked the boy.

“No,” Luke said with a shake of his head, and the movement made it look like he was rubbing his cheeks against Aegon’s palm. His soft cheeks that were now tinged red as he smiled. “It was intense, but you were also gentle. I like it.”

Aegon’s eyebrows raised in curiosity. Thinking about what just transpired, he wouldn't exactly call any bit of it gentle. He had shoved his cock deep down Luke’s throat, and his nephew gagged several times; he had pulled on Luke’s hair so hard it definitely stung, and yet, Luke still called him gentle.

He couldn’t help but take a glance at his hand. The same one that only knew how to hold a wine and grip someone’s hips as he plowed into them. The same one that held Luke’s head steadily as he fucked into his mouth.

Gentle? It wasn’t unknown to Aegon that some people liked a rough hand for their pleasure. He had his fair share of whores who begged to be choked and slapped, but they called it for what it was: a little violence. They never considered it gentle.

Aegon’s mind earlier may have been clouded by intense bliss, but he was certain he was being rough. Perhaps Luke was just mistaken. Or maybe he had an odd way of considering what was gentle or not. A possible consequence of growing up under Daemon’s care—Luke and his brothers had regularly witnessed Daemon’s violent nature and thought it natural; mistook it for a gentle hand instead. 

“You look so deep in thought,” Luke said, bringing his attention back to reality. Luke bit his lip and averted his gaze. “Do you regret what we did?”

“Why would I?” Aegon immediately asked, brushing his thumb across Luke’s cheek again.

Shrugging, Luke let out a sigh of frustration. “I don’t know. Ever since we… you know.”

Aegon felt the tug at the corner of his lips. Luke had already done different sorts of debauchery and he was still embarrassed to say the words. “You can say it, Luke. ‘Ever since we fucked’.”

Luke rolled his eyes, his cheeks flaming again. “Yes, that. Ever since we—fucked, things between us have felt awkward. To say the least.”

There was no denying that. They had been acting the way they were before, but there was an edge to the air around them. And Aegon knew deep down in his chest that it wouldn’t go away even if they found themselves in bed again. 

“It’s just strange,” Aegon finally said, dropping his hand from Luke’s face. He didn’t miss the look of disappointment that crossed Luke’s eyes.

That your attention is suddenly on me. That you’re now looking at me the way I saw you look at my brother. That I am finding myself thinking about you—growing fond of you more than I should.

Yet the words never left Aegon’s lips.

“Strange?” Luke said, and there was a crease on his brow. “I don’t think it’s strange.”

That’s because you are strange yourself, was what Aegon wanted to say. Instead, he asked Luke, “And why do you think that?”

“Because I want you,” Luke answered, his delivery so casual it almost knocked the wind out of Aegon’s chest. “And you want me too.”

Aegon couldn’t speak, his throat drying, his fingers frozen. His tongue couldn’t string words together to make a proper response to that. He felt like he even stopped breathing for a moment.

Of course, Aegon wanted Luke. The moment he saw Luke for the first time again in the throne room, he had been intrigued by his nephew. And that spark of interest only ignited when he had Luke under him as a result of the fight during their dinner with the whole family. Spending time with Luke, teaching him ways how to seduce Aemond, Aegon got to know his nephew better, which only stoked the fire of desire within him and turned it into the inferno that it was now.

He had been in denial then, but there was no point in opposing that anymore. Aegon understood why his brother had been obsessed with Luke despite what he did. He, too, had fallen for their nephew’s charm; for the intense fire that he held inside him.

It was just expected. Natural.

But Luke wanting Aegon—not merely wanting to kiss him, but actually wanting himself? That was a different matter altogether. One that Aegon couldn’t wrap his head around.

Luke’s desires were known to Aegon since their family came back to King’s Landing. It was plain to see, the way he leaned toward the person of his interest; the amount of times he sought him out; the effort he exuded just to catch his attention. 

Aegon knew this very well because he acted as Luke’s mentor. He had spent a lot of his time with his nephew. And so he knew, too, that this person of interest—the object of Luke’s desire—was not him. 

Despite his victory and satisfaction, despite Luke’s reasons, Aegon was aware of the truth. He couldn’t deny the real motive behind Luke’s actions as of late.

The silence stretched too long that Luke began faltering, the confidence in his eyes crumbling away. “U-Unless I’m mistaken then—”

Grabbing Luke by his arm, Aegon pulled him back in and firmly pressed his lips against Luke’s. There was only a brief moment before Luke moved his lips, sighing into the kiss as his shoulders sagged.

Aegon should have questioned Luke, but he didn’t care. The reasons mattered no longer. It wasn’t as though he and Luke belonged to each other. Aegon had taught his nephew about taking his wants, this was expected. And Aegon, himself, was doing the same thing. His actions were always for the benefit of his selfish gains and pleasure.

Luke wrapped his arms around Aegon’s shoulders, pressing against him as though he was afraid to pull away. Aegon’s hands found their way onto Luke’s waist, squeezing it in his grip, and taking the opportunity to slip his tongue in when Luke gasped.

He could faintly taste himself on Luke’s tongue, but Luke’s taste was far more distinct. Sweet and delectable it could rival even the best Arbor red in the Seven Kingdoms. Aegon deepened the kiss, his movements turning a bit frantic, but Luke welcomed it with a keen in the back of his throat.

There was no telling how long they had been attached to each other before they pulled away, gasping for air. Aegon rested his forehead against Luke’s as he caught his breath, his hands remaining on Luke’s waist as if to remind himself that this was real.

“It is safe to assume that you want me as well then?” Luke said.

Aegon snorted, rolling his eyes. “It is quite ridiculous that you should even ask that.”

Luke giggled. Their difference in height wasn’t great but Luke still went on the tips of his toes to press a chaste kiss on Aegon’s lips. His movements were laced with giddiness that rendered him adorable, and it was contagious that Aegon couldn’t help but chuckle as well. 

The same feeling from their flight with their dragons came back to Aegon. It was as if only he and Luke existed. There were no lessons for Luke, no court appearances for Aegon, no training with swords, no duties to attend to. The whole castle was theirs to have a pleasant time.

Every worry in Aegon’s head was plucked from its very root. He felt liberated, no longer shackled by the things that didn't concern him. The reasons mattered little in their current circumstance. As long as things went in his favor, then Aegon would mind his life. 

His nephew was with him, confessing his wants; Mother and Grandfather were not present to force duties upon him. Aegon was living as a dragon, taking his pleasures and flying freely in the skies.

With his big brown eyes, Luke stared up at him. Aegon found himself looking back, not missing the gleam of mirth that seemed to burn forever in Luke’s eyes. 

It further hammered down Aegon’s reassurance, setting it in stone. Luke always wore his sentiments in his eyes—whether he was aware of it or not, his eyes were a mirror of his soul. Even if Luke tried to control his temper, Aegon could always see the raw emotions flickering in those dark eyes.

No further justifications were needed. Everything was plain for Aegon to see, the truth staring at him right in the eyes. 

The truth that Luke wanted him, just as he wanted Luke. 

Deep down his chest, right on the constant thumping behind his ribcage, Aegon felt his blood soar.

+ + +

Aegon had never thought that he would like waking up early, but there seemed to be a first time for everything. The dawn was breaking and Aegon took his time washing his face, combing his hair to ensure every strand fell into the right place. 

He was never the one to particularly fuss over his own appearance. He had always thought that his Valyrian features were enough to attract women. Though there was no harm in making a little bit of effort, finally heeding his mother’s advice regarding his hair.

There was no occasion, but it was one of those mornings when they would break their fast together with Rhaenyra’s family. Which meant he would be seeing Luke again. Aegon wouldn’t deny the excitement he was feeling.

Outside his room, Ser Erryk stood waiting. The Kingsguard looked as though he either just woke up or was only about to sleep. However, any traces of lethargy left his body as soon as he saw Aegon.

“Prince Aegon,” he greeted, his red-rimmed eyes widened. “You’re awake.”

Aegon fought the urge to laugh. Ser Erryk really looked like his eyes were about to burst out of his skull. “Yes, I am, Ser Erryk. Is there any problem with that?”

Ser Erryk shook his head. “No, my prince.”

With a chuckle disguised as a huff, Aegon turned and left. Ser Erryk was quick to follow him obediently, the clinking of his armor echoing in the empty hallways of the castle.

When they reached the dining hall, Ser Erryk remained outside, standing vigilantly, and Aegon went in. For a moment, he thought that the room was empty, but then a blur of green moved in his peripheral vision, making him turn on his feet.

“Helaena,” he said, ignoring the sudden fast beating of his heart. He refused to acknowledge that his sister spooked him more often than he would like. “What are you doing in the corner?”

His sister was standing over a lit brazier, her back facing him. Upon closer inspection, Aegon realized that Helaena was humming an unfamiliar song. She seemed to be holding something in her hands too. Aegon peered over her shoulders and saw in her hands a twig. She was holding it over the fire, lighting up the end as if it were a very thin torch.

With her makeshift light, Helaena finally turned around, jumping in surprise as she came face-to-face with Aegon.

“Brother,” she said, eyes blinking as if she only woke up. She became silent for a while, staring straight at Aegon like he was a wall, the piece of wood in her hands continuing to burn. “What did you do to your hair?”

“Nothing.” Aegon’s answer came faster than he intended. He tried his best not to reach for his hair. It didn’t look too bad, did it? 

“Oh. It looks different,” Helaena said.

“Your eyes are deceiving you, sister,” Aegon said with a snort. The twig in Helaena’s hand was burning down quickly so he snatched it away before stomping it onto the ground to snuff the fire out. “What are you doing?”

“I’m scared, Aegon.”

Aegon halted his movements to stare at his sister. “Of what?”

Helaena’s eyes seemed so far away again. It was as if she was looking at something else—as if she was in another place. “I do not know,” she said slowly.

“You’re scared of something you do not know?” Aegon couldn’t help his frown. “Are you trifling with strange plants again?”

His sister pulled away from her reverie to glare at him. “Do not bring my plants into this.”

“I’m only being thorough,” Aegon responded. Helaena had a particular fondness for insects which also extended to plants. Although rare, there were times when she accidentally dabbled with weird plants and had to be taken care of by the maesters. It was quite hilarious in Aegon’s opinion.

Sighing, Helaena looked down at the charred twig underneath Aegon’s foot. “It’s going to be very dark, and they will need to light their way.”

Aegon looked around the room. There were no windows so he couldn’t ascertain if the skies outside were indeed turning dark. Moreover, all braziers were lit, their fires crackling, casting a bright, orange light all over the room. He could only surmise that something was wrong with Helaena’s eyes.

Clearing his throat, Aegon decided to steer the discussion away. “Where’s Aemond?”

As the obedient son, Aemond was always punctual when it came to these meals. Or to anything, for that matter. Aegon knew that his younger brother was always the first one to arrive, brooding at the end of the table as he waited for everyone.

Though Aegon’s brother had been missing as of late. He hadn’t seen Aemond for a while, hadn’t even felt his presence—not even during their training with their nephews. Which was probably for the best, if he were being honest. Aegon tried to shake the thoughts away, not wanting to dwell on it too much.

“He’s training with Ser Criston, I believe.”

“This early?” Aegon asked, scrunching his nose. He knew how vehement his brother and Ser Criston could be regarding their skills in battle, but even training at such hours seemed too much.

Helaena gave him a shrug before finally moving away from the brazier. She went to sit at her usual chair at the table. Then all of a sudden, she asked, “How is Luke?”

Following his sister, Aegon sat down at the table as well, ignoring the twisting of his stomach at Helaena’s inquiry. His mind was filled with the memories of his nephew, his chest turning wild and fiery. He smiled at Helaena and hoped that she wouldn’t see anything amiss. “Why are you asking me about our nephew?” 

“You two have been attached to the hip as of late,” Helaena answered. It seemed everyone knew of their budding friendship. “I can also smell him on you.”

Aegon almost choked on his own spit. ”It’s early in the morning, Helaena. I only woke up. How can I possibly smell like Luke?”

Helaena gave him a blank stare. Aegon didn’t try to decipher what that gaze of hers meant, and so he looked away. “So? How is he?” she urged.

Before he could answer, the doors to the room opened again, and strutted in were Rhaenyra and Daemon’s children. 

At the head of the pile was Jace, talking spiritedly with Baela, and the two only gave a mere nod as a way of greeting, their conversation uninterrupted. Trailing behind them was Rhaena, who immediately approached Helaena with a smile, not even sparing Aegon a glance. Joffrey came next, the young boy looking lively as ever as he skipped to the table, greeting them all a good morrow.

Then at the end was Luke, who strutted in with a bashful smile on his lips, his curls framing his face beautifully. Aegon could feel Helaena’s eyes on him, but he didn’t pay her any attention. He met Luke’s eyes instead, that familiar warmth blooming in his chest once again as they gave each other an acknowledging nod.

They all took their seats, Aegon abandoning his to sit down next to Luke instead. Jace still sent him a wary glance but lingered no longer as he turned back to his betrothed. Luke’s smile widened as he greeted Aegon, his gaze traveling across Aegon’s face. 

“What did you do to your hair?” Luke asked. 

This time Aegon couldn’t prevent himself from reaching the tips of his hair. He felt a sudden weird churn in his belly, his cheeks heating up. It was shame, he realized—something he only rarely experienced that it felt too odd at the moment. He tried to shrug it off, letting go of his hair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said.

Luke stared at him for a moment before turning back to the dishes on the table. He took a few pieces of bacon and put them on his plate. “I think you look dashing.”

His voice was so low that it took a while for Aegon to realize whether it was his imagination or not. And when it finally settled in, Luke was already digging into his food. 

Aegon shifted in his seat, swallowing the forming lump in his throat. “You… You think so?”

Red spread throughout Luke’s cheeks, the boy still far focused on his bacon to spare Aegon another look. “Yes,” he said, leaning over slightly. “Though I think you’re handsome either way.”

Stunned once more, Aegon could only stare at his nephew, the sounds of clanging utensils seemingly far away. He knew that his Valyrian features had always attracted a lot of common-born people, and he definitely had used this to his advantage multiple times. 

However, Luke was no stranger to this kind of appearance. Every single member of their family donned the distinct silver or gold hair as well as the violet eyes. Even Luke himself had traces of Valyrian beauty, certainly gotten from his grandmother, the king’s first wife, who had Targaryen blood herself from her mother’s side.

Whether Luke was used to this kind of look or not, Aegon still wouldn't have assumed that his nephew would find him handsome. After all, for quite a while, Aegon believed that Luke had a certain preference—something that was different from what Aegon was like. 

Aegon felt the heat crawl up his neck, it was suddenly unbearably warm despite the early hours of the day. His silence must have stretched for too long since Luke finally looked at him. 

Their eyes met, their gazes locked for a moment as though there were only the two of them in the room. Aegon licked his drying lips, thinking of the proper words to say, remembering the words and pronunciations that Luke taught him, and fortunately, it quickly came to him.

“I think you are beautiful too,” he whispered.

Luke blinked at him, and it took him a second to recognize that Aegon wasn’t speaking in Common Tongue at all. And when the words finally registered in his mind, Aegon couldn’t miss the way the corner of Luke’s lips pulled into a smile, his shoulders shaking as he giggled.

Unable to help himself, Aegon found himself grinning as well.

“Is everything alright?” Jace suddenly asked.

The entire table fell silent, and Aegon froze as he looked at his older nephew. Next to him, Luke had already schooled his face, biting down his smile, although his cheeks remained flushed. Jace’s eyes flickered between the two of them, which brought the attention of the rest, and now, he and Luke were under everyone's inquisitive gazes.

Aegon caught Helaena’s eyes, and there was a glint in them that he tried very much to ignore.

He cleared his throat and smiled at Jace. “Of course, everything is alright.”

Jace didn’t care about Aegon’s answer, however, as he continued to look at Luke, waiting for his response instead. 

“Yes. Everything is alright,” Luke answered, shifting in his chair. “I was just telling Aegon about the bacon. It tastes good.”

“Yes, the bacon. The cooks are doing a wonderful job,” Aegon said, trying to offer a friendly smile. Jace glanced pointedly at his plate, which was entirely empty. Aegon cleared his throat before hastily grabbing a piece from the plate of bacon and taking a bite. It was saltier than he liked. “Hmm. Delicious.”

“Delicious indeed, but I think the oatcakes are better,” Helaena suddenly said, which caught Jace’s attention. This caused a discussion regarding the morning’s dishes which everyone else participated in.

Not that Aegon was intimidated by Jace, but he did feel relieved that he was no longer receiving his older nephew’s piercing stare. One more second and he would probably burst out laughing from the awkwardness of it all. That definitely wouldn’t help his case. 

Beside him, Luke was hiding his grin behind a hand, still trying his best not to laugh. Aegon couldn’t help himself at the sight of his nephew, so he hid his chuckle behind his hand as well. This only caused Luke to giggle even more.

Under the table, Aegon felt a soft kick on his leg. He looked at his nephew, mouth agape, and the boy only shrugged with mischief in his eyes. If this was how Luke wanted it to be then Aegon wouldn’t back down.

So Aegon nudged his foot back, and Luke’s stifled giggle turned into a snort. Heads turned toward them but the two of them were quick to act like they were preoccupied with something else. Luke stuffed his mouth with more food while Aegon scooped servings onto his plate. 

When they were safe from their family’s attention, Aegon took a glance at Luke. Their eyes met, lilac to brown, and secret smiles mirrored on their faces. Aegon gave his nephew one last playful kick, but instead of fighting back, Luke hooked his foot on Aegon’s ankle instead.

Aegon suddenly felt at ease as smiles were shared between them. Despite their boots and breeches, warmth bloomed from the point of contact on their ankles, and this shot up right toward his chest, squeezing down on his thrumming heart. Biting down his smile, Aegon pulled Luke’s foot closer. Luke hid his smile behind another bite of his food.

The food that morning made Aegon’s stomach sated, but none of those delicious dishes could compare to the warm touch that made his heart full. 

+ + + 

The corridors were almost screaming in silence, his own breathing too loud for his hearing. Aegon took a peek at both ends of the hallway, and when he found them empty, he continued his tread. 

Even though Ser Erryk was summoned by the Lord Commander earlier in the day, Aegon still acted carefully. It was getting difficult to evade Ser Erryk, the Kingsguard was becoming more vigilant in his job to keep an eye on the king’s firstborn son. Aegon couldn’t blame him—Ser Erryk was probably receiving more firm orders from his mother and his grandfather.

Aegon almost felt bad. He and Ser Erryk had an agreement before that allowed him to leave the castle as long as the Kingsguard was with him. But since Aegon wasn’t taking trips to the city anymore, the deal was no longer beneficial to him. Aegon’s freedom wasn’t found outside the walls of the Red Keep—he had no use for the alcohol in Flea Bottom and whores in the Street of Silk anymore. 

Turning right at the end of the corridor, Aegon emerged outside. He couldn’t see anyone within the vicinity, but he didn’t want to push his luck so he still walked cautiously. 

Soon enough, he arrived at his destination. The place emitted serenity that finally made Aegon relax, the slight tension in his shoulders easing. He was never the one to pray, whether it be to the old gods or the new, but he couldn’t deny that there was something sacred in places like godswood.

Various trees were found in the godswood but only one stood out. The huge tree with its blood-red leaves and pale bark loomed in the center, casting a large shade around it. The beauty of it was strange but nonetheless majestic, so much so that Aegon almost missed the figure standing in front of the tree.

“You’re quite fast,” Luke said, grinning, his hands clasped behind his back. He was wearing clothes in the color of House Velaryon, the rich silk gleaming under the light of the sun. He looked magnificent, rivaling even the heart tree of the forest.

Aegon approached him steadily. “Your letter seemed like the matter was urgent.”

After their daily morning meal, Aegon’s nephews and cousins went off to their respective lessons while Helaena went back to her chambers to continue her embroidery. This left Aegon with absolutely nothing to do so he retreated back to his room to get the sleep he lost from waking up too early.

Before he could fall into slumber, a young maid knocked at his doors, bearing a letter that seemed to be torn from the pages of a book. The writing was neat and familiar, and Aegon could remember because he had been taught High Valyrian words written by the same hand.

Come to the godswood, was the only message. Aegon didn’t need any more explanation to follow it, and so now here he was, standing face-to-face with Luke.

“Really?” Luke said, arching an eyebrow, bumping his shoulder against Aegon’s when they grew close. “It’s not because you wanted to see me?”

Humming, Aegon rubbed his chin. “I think you’re using me to escape your lessons again.”

“I’ve already finished them. And I have never used you as a tool to escape,” Luke said with a pout. Aegon felt the great urge to kiss his lips.

Aegon stepped forward, closing their distance. They had similar height, but Aegon still felt like he was towering over his nephew. “So, you just wanted to see me then?”

There was a glint in Luke’s eyes, one that Aegon could easily recognize. Mischief brewed in those dark eyes as he hummed, the corners of his lips stretching into a wider grin. “Well, actually… I’m supposed to be with my brothers, but that is a different matter altogether.”

“Ah. I knew it,” Aegon said, putting a hand over his chest in feigned hurt. “You wound my heart, Luke.”

Luke giggled, withdrawing his gaze to look up at the huge tree instead. His cheeks were almost the same shade as the leaves, his curls fluttering as a cool breeze went, the sea green of his doublet casting a pretty contrast against the red hues of the tree. Aegon couldn’t take his eyes off the sight in front of him. 

Perhaps this was how nobles felt looking at the pictures on the tapestries. He had never understood why people liked those—they were just threads weaved together, sometimes telling a story that he couldn’t comprehend. But as he stood there, watching his nephew, Aegon finally started to understand.

“The maester was telling me about weirwood trees and the old gods,” Luke said, cutting through the silence.

“I thought your lessons were about governance? Or were you distracting the maester?”

Rolling his eyes, Luke scoffed, but there was amusement on his lips. “Do not apply your practices to me.”

“I have never ever tried to distract a maester in my life,” Aegon said in his best attempt at a deadpan voice. “Anyhow, you don’t distract a maester but you try to hide from them, yes?”

“That was one time!”

Aegon let out a laugh. “Sure, nephew. If you say so.”

Luke rolled his eyes once more. “Anyway, I didn’t distract the maester, I was merely curious. All part of learning, I would say. So I asked the maester about the old gods.” Luke approached the white-bone trunk of the tree where a face was carved into it. He hummed as he looked at it. “There weren’t that many weirwood trees in the Crownlands, none are found in Dragonstone and Driftmark. I only think it’s interesting how different cultures have different gods as well. There are the old gods in Valyria, then there are the old gods here in Westeros.”

Aegon tried not to stare at the weeping face of the tree. There was something eerie about it—as if it was staring right at Aegon, rummaging through his personal being, uncovering all his secrets and desires, and there was nothing he could do about it.

“Do you believe in them, the gods? Either old or new,” Aegon asked. 

Luke shrugged, still looking at the tree. “Truthfully? I don’t know. Mother and Daemon aren't very fond of the Faith of the Seven so it wasn’t really practiced when we grew up. While we try to honor the gods of Valyria, we can only do so by naming our dragons after them. Their true essence is lost to us in time. We don’t truly know the old gods of Westeros either so… I don’t know.”

The sentiment was understandable, Aegon thought. He wasn’t a devout believer of the gods either, they only existed in his mind as a result of his customs growing up. His mother was pious, and so was everyone else from her side of the family, but as far as Aegon knew, none of his siblings practiced the religion wholeheartedly as well.

Clearing his throat, he caught Luke’s attention, who seemed to be spiraling down in thousands of thoughts. He gave his nephew a smile. “I think the gods exist,” Aegon said. “But I don’t believe in them.”

For a moment, Luke stayed silent. He looked so deep in thought that Aegon considered shaking the boy back to reality. But then Luke nodded and looked at him. “You may be right, Aegon.”

Aegon blinked. “What?”

“What?”

There was a long moment when Aegon thought he probably heard things wrong, but then Luke started shifting on his feet as he nibbled on his bottom lip. Aegon gathered himself, unable to prevent his amused chuckle. “Did you just only call me by my name, Luke?”

“I’ve been calling you by your name for a while now,” Luke said, his jaw dropping in disbelief.

Had he? Aegon tried to recall his memories but none came. Luke had always called him uncle, which, Aegon couldn’t help but compare, sounded too polite and formal in contrast to how Luke referred to Aemond. Perhaps it was due to their closer age, that was why Aemond never got the uncle treatment while Aegon did. 

Nevertheless, Aegon couldn’t still remember that Luke had dropped the formalities. He always seemed to be an uncle to Luke, while Aemond was… Aemond.

“Why? Have I been demoted from being your favorite uncle?” Aegon acted in mocked pain again, donning his best pout. “And here I am, treating you as my favorite nephew. You keep wounding my heart, Luke.”

“No, it’s not that,” Luke whined. If he had stomped his foot, he would definitely look like an angry child. Aegon suppressed his laughter behind his hand. “It’s just… Mother, she—it probably sounds foolish.”

Aegon shook his head as he took one of Luke’s hands. It felt cold so Aegon rubbed warmth into it.  “No. Let me hear it. I want to know your reasoning.”

Luke’s tongue darted out to wet his lips. His mouth opened a few times before he finally spoke. “You know how Daemon is Mother’s uncle, right?”

“Of course.” Daemon is my uncle too, Aegon wanted to add but that seemed unneeded.

“And Mother doesn’t call him uncle.”

“I do not as well,” Aegon said, finally unable to help himself. 

“Yes, but that’s because Queen Alicent never really taught you,” Luke said with a chuckle. Which wasn’t entirely wrong. Daemon wasn’t present in most of their lives growing up, so Aegon and his siblings weren’t compelled to call him uncle or even treat him as such. “And you’re not married to him.”

Aegon halted for a moment, his tongue failing him. He looked at his nephew, his face contorted in confusion no doubt. “I still don’t get it.”

Luke pulled his hand and faced away from him. He took a few steps away, and Aegon tried to follow but Luke still didn’t turn, continuing to hide his face. “All I’m saying is that there is a reason Mother stopped calling Daemon uncle.”

It took time, but Aegon finally understood what his nephew was trying to say, and the smile that adorned his face was long and wide. The familiar warmth came back to him, his fingertips tingling with something that made him reach out for Luke. He took his nephew’s shoulders and turned him around, chuckling at the yelp that Luke produced.

Face to face and with only a breadth’s distance from each other, Aegon and Luke swayed in front of the weirwood tree. The scent of something flowery wafted in Aegon’s nose as he inhaled, resting his hands on Luke’s waist while Luke’s palms found their way to his chest.

“I dare you to say it,” Aegon said. He could feel the rumble of his own voice reverberate against Luke. “Say my name again, Luke.”

He could see the flickering fire in Luke’s eyes, igniting every inch of his body. The scorch of it made him shiver, his grip tightening on the slender waist he was holding. Luke gasped, his hot breath brushing Aegon’s lips. Then slowly, his lips formed the name that Aegon had been yearning to hear. 

“Aegon.”

As soon as the last syllable rolled off Luke’s tongue, Aegon closed the few remaining distance between them. Luke immediately responded to the kiss, keening in the back of his throat, his body sagging against Aegon’s hold.

Craving for more, Aegon moved his hands to cup Luke’s ass, squeezing them as he pulled him closer. The heat of their desire slowly formed in their breeches, pressed against each other, which had Aegon groaning.

Luke took the opportunity to slip his tongue in, surprising Aegon. He was used to being the one leading their carnal dance as Luke was always timid in matters like this. Though it seemed his nephew was finding his footing, becoming more comfortable and familiar that he was ready to take the reins.

Aegon didn’t mind. Smiling into the kiss, he let Luke take his fill, welcoming the hunger and desperation in his nephew’s movements. He matched the fervor with his own, savoring Luke’s whimpers on his tongue.

Getting drowned in the fire of Luke’s lips, Aegon almost forgot about his surroundings. It almost felt like they were in their own world, alone with their burning passion. 

Almost.

Because despite the addicting taste of Luke’s lips, Aegon felt strange, almost in discomfort. As though there were eyes watching them.

He pulled away to breathe, Luke gasping for air as well. When he looked around, only the trees greeted him, their leaves and branches the sole witness of their kiss. Then his eyes caught the heart tree again, slightly grimacing at the face that stared at him.

This was definitely not the place to do something so private.

“We should continue this somewhere else,” Aegon said, his smile coming back to his face as he watched Luke gather himself. “Do you want to go to your room this time?”

“No. The risk is high,” Luke said, shaking his head. “My chamber is heavily guarded.”

Aegon’s brow pinched. “It is?”

Luke sighed. “Yes. After we went to the Street of Silk, another guard was stationed outside my bedchamber.”

Suddenly, the fire in Aegon’s veins was quickly extinguished by ice. He looked around the godswood again, searching for any signs of a gleaming Valyrian sword. Or maybe a dragon, albeit it wouldn’t fit in the place. Aegon shifted on his feet, clearing his throat. “Do you think your mother and stepfather know?”

“I don’t k-know. They haven’t talked to me about it.” 

There was only sincerity in Luke’s voice, which meant that truly neither Rhaenyra nor Daemon had confronted him about Aegon. Nevertheless, Aegon’s interaction with Daemon in the Dragonpit was still vivid in his mind. He knew that his uncle knew something—to what extent, Aegon wasn’t exactly sure yet.

Aegon let out a deep breath, calming himself. Everything was fine. It must be. Otherwise, Daemon would have already acted, but since Aegon still had all of his limbs intact, then definitely all was well.

Biting his lip, Luke took his hand. There was a moment of hesitation in his eyes which intrigued Aegon. “We’re still going to continue this, right?” Luke asked in a whisper.

“Oh. Of course, we are,” Aegon said, cackling. “If you think I just leave things unfinished then I’m going to be more wounded, Luke.”

Luke giggled before giving him a quick kiss on the lips. “Well then, let’s continue, shall we?”

“Back to my bedchamber then. Ser Erryk is gone for the day.” 

With one last look around the godswood, Aegon took Luke’s hand and together, they walked carefully back to his room in hushed whispers and laughter, his unease left behind and forgotten.

Chapter Text

Fingers moved in haste, almost clawing through the layers of fabric between them. Aegon pulled away for but a moment to shrug off his doublet, and Luke already whined, chasing and demanding his lips.

Diving in to appease his nephew, Aegon brought his lips back to him. Luke’s clothes were already strewn on the floor, and Aegon tried his best not to trip on them as he led Luke to his bed.

Aegon left a trail of wet kisses across Luke’s chest, relishing his every bated breath and squirm. Reaching down his abdomen, Aegon’s fingers worked to unlace Luke’s breeches, allowing him to lift his hips up so Aegon could take them off him.

Luke’s cock was already becoming rigid, and Aegon spat on his palm to stroke it and bring it to full hardness. One tight squeeze had Luke jerking, his gasp broken and catching in the back of his throat. Aegon watched the pleasure on Luke’s face, heat rushing down his own cock.

It was telling when Luke was close to reaching his peak. His breath became more ragged, and his hips started stuttering to fuck more into Aegon’s hand. His face contorted in pleasure, his lips forming around a soundless syllable, and Aegon could see the explosion that was about to come.

But he ceased his movements, earning a long sob from his nephew.

“Aegon! I’m so close!” Luke’s eyes were wet as though he was really about to cry.

Aegon gave him an unapologetic grin, trying to soothe him by palming the skin of his thighs. “Yes, I know. But just hold it in for now.”

Luke lifted his head to get a better look at him. There was a pout on his lips, his eyes pleading, and Aegon almost gave in even though he didn’t say anything yet. “But why?”

“Trust me, it’ll be better,” Aegon said, his hands groping up to hold Luke’s waist. He brushed his thumbs against the skin, marked with faint prints of Aegon’s fingers from their previous fucking. There had been not a day when they weren’t tangled in each other’s arms. “Can you do that? Can you be a good boy and hold it in for me?”

The shiver that ran through Luke’s body was unmissable. Praising always brought forth a satisfying reaction from Luke. He visibly swallowed before giving Aegon a nod. “Yes. I can do that.” 

“Good,” Aegon said with a smile. “Now, I want you on all fours.”

Always obedient in times like this, Luke turned around and went on all fours, his backside on display for Aegon to admire. Luke’s breathing was still ragged from his unfinished pleasure, and Aegon couldn’t help himself from leaning down and pressing a kiss on his shoulder to give some consolation.

With a hum, Aegon flecked Luke’s back with kisses as well, licking the dip of his spine which had his nephew gasping and leaning back to his touch. Aegon had other plans, however. He pushed Luke forward, the boy falling on the bed face first, the rest of his weight only supported by his shoulders on the bed, while Aegon held his hips up, adjusting them so he had easier access to Luke's buttocks.

He nudged Luke’s legs away from each other and knelt in the space between them. Luke looked so tantalizing from his position, face down on the sheets and ass up in the air, presenting himself to no one else but Aegon. His cock hung beneath him, leaking and wet at the tip, begging for release, but Aegon was not a merciful man. Not today.

Floral saccharine scent and musk permeated in the air. Aegon leaned down and took a deep breath, savoring the moment, marking it on his mind so he could go back to it later. He pulled Luke closer, coaxing out another gasp from him. 

Aegon’s whole body was trembling with anticipation. Not even his first time felt as nerve-wracking as this. Although his movements were sloppy, laced with inexperience, Aegon had no sense of nervousness back then. He was all too eager to wet his cock with a woman’s slick, not caring if it was pleasurable to his partner or not. 

The present moment was different. Aegon had never eaten someone’s ass, though he’d assume it wasn’t anything different from a cunt. As a prince, Aegon always used his status in the brothels, he didn’t like servicing pleasure to other people—that was more of a whore’s job, not his. 

But heat was pooling between Aegon’s legs as he thought of what he was about to do. He couldn’t deny the excitement that he was feeling, the eagerness of youth flowing. Since he and Luke went to the Street of Silk, he had been dreaming about this and now he had the opportunity.

Without so much of a warning, he parted Luke’s ass cheeks and buried his face in between, his tongue peeking out to lick at the puckered hole. Luke jerked at the contact, but Aegon held him in place, giving another lick with the flat of his tongue before inserting it.

He had felt Luke’s walls around his fingers and around his cock, but it felt even tighter around his tongue. Aegon sighed through his nose as he continued thrusting in, taking a brief pause to slurp and lick at the rim. 

“A-Aegon.” Too lost in pleasure, Aegon ignored him, not stopping his ministrations. But then there was urgency dripping from Luke’s voice. “Aegon.”

Finally, Aegon pulled away, just a little, chest gasping for breath. He felt like his own mind was spinning. “What is it?”

“You barred the doors, right?” 

Chuckling, Aegon caressed Luke’s hips. “Don’t worry. I latched the lock.”

“Okay,” Luke said with a nod, his head still pushed against the bed. Aegon could only see his hair, his curls disheveled and sticking out in different directions. The back of his neck and ears were also red, and whether it was because of his position or the heat of the moment, Aegon couldn’t tell. “Can you c-continue?”

Aegon didn’t need to be told twice. Putting his tongue back in, he picked up where he left off. Moans spilled out of Luke, high and breathy, his thighs already shaking and giving up, but Aegon’s grip was relentless. He pulled Luke closer, fucking him with his tongue, relishing every little sound that came out of his nephew.

His thoughts were muddled, his tongue and lips seemingly moving on their own, thrusting and licking, producing obscene noises that echoed in the room. Aegon’s own back and knees were starting to ache, his jaw numb and his chin wet with his spit, but his mind was far from it.

Luke was canting his hips back, begging for more, and Aegon doubled his efforts, making his tongue as rigid as he could to thrust in the direction that had Luke squirming the most. One particular thrust and his nephew let out a broken sob. 

“Aegon, I’m close.”

But Aegon immediately took hold of Luke’s cock, squeezing it in the right place to prevent his release. “Not yet, Luke.”

The cry that came out of Luke was desperate. His hole was clenching around nothing, all wet and raw from Aegon’s ministrations. Aegon felt like he was about to burst as well, his own cock erect against his abdomen.

“But I’m so close. Please, just let me—”

“Shh. It’s alright,” Aegon cooed. “Just a little bit more, can you do that for me?”

The nod Luke gave him was weak, but Aegon knew his nephew was trying his best to keep his release at bay. Slowly, Aegon let go of Luke’s shaft, turning his attention to the table next to his bed where the jar of oil was.

He poured oil onto Luke’s ass, taking a brief time to prepare Luke for the incoming intrusion. However, he only got to insert two of his fingers, barely even moving them, before Luke was squirming and whining for more. 

“Just put it in, Aegon,” Luke whimpered. “F-Fuck me. Please.”

Feeling a little bad for his nephew, Aegon pulled his fingers out and stroked his cock. He put a generous amount of oil on his length, hissing at the sloppy wet contact of the liquid. Discarding the jar, he lined up his cock against Luke’s ass, the head catching onto the barely loosened hole.

Pushing in, Aegon had to grip Luke’s hips tightly to control his own release. With barely any preparation, Luke felt tighter than he had ever been. Aegon sucked a breath through his teeth, easing his cock in inch by inch, taking a few moments to respite, until it was buried to the hilt.

Luke wasn’t faring any better, trembling and panting, the sheets clenched in his white-knuckled fists. Aegon pulled him up, and Luke’s limbs had already turned to mush, almost like clay so Aegon had to hold his waist and support him against his body. Luke’s back flushed against his chest, the new position nudged Aegon’s cock into a new angle, dragging a keen out of Luke’s throat, his head dropping back on Aegon’s shoulder.

Aegon started out with slow, shallow thrusts, pressing wet kisses on Luke’s exposed neck. His cock felt so deep inside Luke, wrapped in heat so tight it was almost suffocating, the tip of his cock pushing against that tender spot that sent a little shiver down Luke’s body.

“A little bit more, yes? You’re doing good, Luke,” he murmured against the skin of Luke’s neck.

Speeding up his pace, Aegon wrapped his arms around Luke’s abdomen, one of his hands reaching down to hold Luke’s cock again and impede his release. Aegon knew it was impossible, but the idea of his cockhead taking shape in Luke’s belly made him groan into Luke’s neck, his teeth grazing the supple skin, making Luke whimper. 

The sound of skins slapping mixed with their heavy breaths and moans. It was a music of debauchery, and Aegon knew they must be a sight as well. Their bodies were glistening with sweat, glowing and flushing with the rush of blood in their veins. Luke was getting delirious, his hands grasping behind for Aegon’s hair, the corners of his eyes welling up with tears, his words incoherent as he begged Aegon for mercy.

“Keep it up. I’m almost there,” Aegon rasped. He himself felt like he was in a frenzy, putting more force in every push, pulling his cock out until the tip was left inside before pounding back in again. Every thrust dragged out a delectable sound from Luke, his lithe body quivering.

“A-Aegon!”

Heat and pleasure were building up inside him, coiling in and flowing through his body. His movements became more erratic, losing rhythm but not their vigor. If anything, he fucked Luke with even more heightened intensity, feeling like a feral animal out for blood. Luke was getting restless in his hold, choking out cries, his grip on Aegon’s hair tightening.

“Fuck. I’m close, Luke.” He pressed a kiss onto the juncture of Luke’s neck and shoulder. “Do it with me, alright? Let go with me.”

A few more thrusts, and Aegon bit on Luke’s neck as white exploded behind his eyelids, plunging his cock in one last time as his seed spurted into Luke’s clenching hole. At the same moment, he loosened his hold on Luke’s cock and tugged it fast. 

Luke convulsed against him, head throwing back against his shoulder, his high-pitched moan transforming into a soundless one as he reached his peak. His cock twitched in Aegon’s hand, shooting out white ropes of semen on the sheets. Though Aegon didn’t stop, his hips still thrusting shallowly, riding his own peak while his hand continued stroking Luke, milking every single drop of his seed. 

When Luke’s chest hacked with a sob, his hands letting go of Aegon’s hair to scratch at his neck, Aegon finally showed some mercy and ceased his movements. Luke’s limbs were lifeless, almost falling over if it weren’t for Aegon’s arms still around him.

Aegon chuckled, burying his face in Luke’s neck before sucking a mark on it. Luke could do nothing but sigh with content against him. 

“Are you alright?” he asked.

He felt Luke nod, but it was so subtle that he could easily miss it. For a moment, Aegon basked in the moment, with Luke in his arms, his softening cock still inside Luke’s ass. But then he started to feel the ache in his limbs, exhaustion catching up to him.

Gently, he settled Luke down on the cleaner side of the bed, the boy still dazed. Aegon grabbed a rag to clean themselves up with, then he pulled the sheets and put them out of the way, letting them droop on the floor, before lying down next to Luke.

A moment’s silence of peace, and then Luke spoke. “I feel like I’m flying through the clouds.”

“It seems like you enjoyed it,” Aegon said with a chuckle.

Luke turned to him, his eyelashes fluttering when he blinked. “Did you get all of your knowledge in the brothels?”

“Yes,” Aegon answered. “There aren’t places to learn them from within the castle walls. You certainly can’t find those in books. Experience is the best teacher, some would say.”

There was a grin on Luke’s face, the corner of his eyes crinkling. “Wrong. I’d say, you are the best teacher.”

Aegon mulled his nephew’s words. He licked his lips, swallowing the sudden dryness in his throat. “Am I your teacher still? Is this one of our lessons?”

His answer took Luke aback, his nephew blinking at him with a gaped mouth. Aegon didn’t mean for his words to sound so accusing, after all, he had already established that Luke was only taking what he wanted, the same way he was getting what he wanted. But the words just slipped right out of his lips before he could even think. 

It was obvious how the wheels were turning fast in Luke’s head as he tried to come up with an answer. His forehead was contorted in a frown, which Aegon strangely found adorable still despite their discussion.

“I only meant—” 

But Aegon put a finger against Luke’s lips, effectively making him halt in an instant. With the sudden silence, Aegon tried to focus on his surroundings, ignoring the wind rustling against the windows.

Then there it was, the faint echo of footsteps that seemed to grow louder with every step. Aegon’s eyes found Luke’s, finding a similar dread in that dark gaze. No more than a few seconds later, there was a sudden bang to his doors, shaking as they were trying to be opened.

“Shit.” Hastily, Aegon got out of his bed and so did Luke, the boy immediately grabbing his clothes on the floor.

Whoever it was outside seemed to be confused at the barred state of Aegon’s doors, the sudden silence ringing. Aegon looked around, searching for possible escape routes, but he knew there were none. When he learned about the existence of secret passageways in the castle, he tried to look for one in his bedchamber, but after a meticulous search, he only came empty-handed. There was simply no escape in his room unless someone jumped from the windows.

He rummaged through the hung tapestries next even though he already knew that there were only smooth walls behind them. No alcoves or any obscure spaces that could be used as a hideout. Aegon muttered a curse under his breath.

“Prince Aegon?” a voice called from the other side of the door.

An intense, chilling shudder wracked his entire body. Luke, too, had halted in his steps, his eyes widened in horror. The voice was familiar—too familiar—one that Aegon had always heard in the court and behind closed doors whenever he was summoned. 

It was the Hand of the King, his grandfather.

”Prince Aegon, why are your doors locked?”

Aegon’s throat was drying. He didn’t know what to do. Fortunately for him, Luke seemed to still have his wits with him. Already dressed in his clothes, albeit disheveled, Luke grabbed him by the arm and shook him.

“Answer him,” Luke whispered. “I’m going to hide under the bed. Just act as you usually do.”

“What?” Aegon was still dumbfounded, but Luke had already moved and crawled under his bed. 

For a moment, Aegon could only look around his chamber. It looked like a mess, the sheets and pillows all strewn about, but that was quite nothing out of the ordinary. His grandfather would probably judge him for it, but he wouldn’t find it odd. What was important was that the absolute unkempt state of his bed helped conceal Luke underneath.

“Are you in there, Prince Aegon? Shall I call for the guards?”

“Go, Aegon!” Luke hissed.

Blinking back to reality, Aegon took his clothes and started putting them on. “Just a moment!”

He almost stripped trying to put his trousers on, but he managed. As he slipped his arms into his tunic, Aegon unlocked his door and opened it, revealing the face of one Otto Hightower.

Who was obviously vexed and suspicious of Aegon’s late responses.

“Grandfather,” Aegon greeted, his own voice sounding hoarse and high at the same time. He cleared his throat, giving his grandfather a smile. “What brings you to this side of the castle?”

Without so much of a word or even a glance at him, his grandfather entered his room. Slowly, he let his gaze wander around, observing, his hands clasped in front of him. Aegon could only hope that Grandfather’s tall height prevented him from looking down below.

“Why is your chamber in such a state?” Grandfather asked. He turned his gaze back to Aegon, those piercing eyes raking down his whole form. “Including yourself.”

“I was in the company of a whore.” Aegon fought not to show his grimace. He would rather have a different answer, considering Luke was probably listening, and the fact that Grandfather always found his interests in whores distasteful, but the words slipped out of his tongue before he could even think.

Though his answer was not without its advantages. It was believable enough that his grandfather didn’t think of it further, only giving an indifferent hum.

“Has the whore left?” Grandfather asked.

“Yes. She already did,” Aegon said.

Grandfather raised an eyebrow, so subtle that Aegon almost missed it. Then his grandfather took another look around in his room, his every step making Aegon’s heart pound faster. When he walked too close to the bed, Aegon held his breath. If Grandfather’s nose was as keen as Helaena’s, he would definitely smell Luke’s flowery scent as well.

Aegon cleared his throat. “Why are you looking for me?”

This caught Grandfather’s attention, and his movements ceased. Instead of answering his question, Grandfather stepped away from the bed, and relief flooded Aegon’s chest. He approached Aegon once again, his towering form casting a shadow on Aegon’s face.  

“I must say the timing of your lecheries is always impeccable, Aegon,” Grandfather said, his face impassive. “Why must you always act this way on days like this? Going as far as bringing your whore inside the castle walls.”

Confused, Aegon couldn’t help the frown that creased his brow. He felt like he had heard such familiar words from his mother before but he couldn’t remember the full of it. “Why?”

“The health of your father, the King, has been faring well as of late. As such, he wanted to host another supper and dine with the whole family tonight. Which, in case you forgot, includes you and Rhaenyra’s family.” His grandfather’s eyes never left him, his gaze back to being sharp like a hawk. It was as if he was carefully watching Aegon’s response.

Aegon relaxed his features, not letting anything slip—a dark contrast to the thoughts rampaging inside his mind. The whole family meant that his grandfather would be there. That Daemon would be there. That his brother would also be there. 

It was like Aegon was dumped with a bucket of cold water, his whole limbs stinging with unshakeable frost, his mind waking up from the peaceful dream it had been resting in. It was but a reminder of what his reality was actually like.

He had been in his fantasy, not caring about what was happening around him. How could he even forget the events that transpired recently? Daemon and his dragon had already paid him a visit; even Grandfather had known what he was doing albeit not the whole truth of it. But Aegon had disregarded all of those and forgotten them as if they didn’t happen in the first place. Truly a lack of vigilance on his part. 

Moments like this reminded him that Rhaenyra and her family weren’t in King’s Landing just to visit. There wasn’t a grand celebration or a jolly affair that brought everyone back together. Something far more consequential was at play—the inheritance of houses, questions of bastardy, and doubts of ruling capability. Not just with the Velaryons, but within their own family as well.

And Aegon… Aegon himself was involved no matter how hard he tried to get away from it.

He only wanted to enjoy the peace that Rhaenyra brought with her arrival. Free of his duties, he took the opportunity to engage in his leisure pursuits. In doing so, he got the chance to spend ample time with his nephew. What was supposed to be for Aegon’s amusement spiraled into something more, something that he, too, didn’t foresee. 

Though this thing between them wasn’t the only fruit of their recent proximity. It wasn’t only hidden kisses and trips to abandoned chambers, not everything was about intimacy. During the short time he had spent with Luke, Aegon had met a kindred spirit, from which an unlikely yet not unwelcomed companionship had been born. 

Aegon didn’t only find a paramour. He also found a friend. Someone who understood. Someone who cared. 

But perhaps Aegon was far too optimistic, thinking everything would be out of his hands. That he would no longer be a part of what was happening in court. That he would be living peacefully in this secret world that he and Luke had carved for themselves.

The impulse to look at the space underneath his bed was great, but Aegon willed himself. 

Grandfather’s eyes continued to observe him, no doubt picking apart all his movements. Aegon cleared his throat again, his tongue feeling numb and heavy, as he tried to shake all the thoughts away in his head.

“Tonight, is it?” he asked.

“Yes,” his grandfather said. “I trust that you’ll grace the table with your presence. Preferably, not inebriated and not stinking of a whore.”

“I will be there.”

“Good.” Grandfather looked around his room once more, his lips pursing. “I will be sending servants to clean your chamber. This is not a room that exudes the proper behavior of a prince.”

With that, his grandfather finally walked out of the room, not even bothering to close the doors, leaving Aegon exposed to the hallway as he stared into nothingness.

He heaved a sigh and went to close the doors, leaning his head against the wood with a thud. Remembering that he was still far from being alone, he latched the lock once again. Behind him, he heard the shuffling movements of his nephew, and soon, there was a comforting hand on his shoulder.

“Hey, is everything alright?” Luke’s voice already felt like a warm embrace, its tenderness caressing Aegon. His shoulders sagged under Luke’s touch.

“Gods, I should’ve picked a different bedchamber with a secret passage.”

Gently, Luke pulled him away from the door. He led Aegon back to the bed and made him sit down. Luke took his face in his hands, his gaze all too affectionate that made Aegon’s chest constrict.

“It’s alright,” Luke said, smiling. “Otto didn’t see me. He doesn’t know I’m here.”

Aegon leaned further into Luke’s touch, pressing his cheeks in the palm of his nephew’s hands. Despite the reassurance, Aegon couldn’t still remove the dreadful thorn in his body. Why must good things always be ruined? “I know,” he said eventually, giving a small smile.

Luke pulled him into a hug, letting Aegon’s head rest against him. Aegon sighed once more, closing his eyes before breathing in the familiarity of Luke’s scent. Then he felt something press faintly on the top of his head. “I always found your grandfather scary. Even when we lived here. He always had an eerie air around him.”

Humming, Aegon said, “He’s a bit of a twat.”

The body against him slightly shook as Luke laughed. “I think he’s just looking out for you. As his grandson and as the King’s son.”

Aegon felt thorns sprout in his throat. Otto Hightower, a man whom Daemon definitely didn’t speak about in kindness, and yet, Luke still held high regard for him. Aegon didn’t know whether it was evidence of Luke’s kindness or naivety. Perhaps both.

After all, he was certain Luke wouldn’t have the same judgment if he knew that Grandfather wanted Aegon to spy on him in hopes of uncovering Rhaenyra and Daemon’s plans. That—Aegon finally realized with dread rushing in his limbs—Grandfather probably sought him out to ask him for more information because he thought Aegon was actually spying on Luke. He could only thank the gods he didn’t believe that Grandfather never mentioned Luke earlier.

Swallowing down the thorns, Aegon could only chuckle weakly. “Still a twat,” he said.

For a moment, they remained in each other’s hold, unmoving and with only the silence accompanying them. Aegon would never leave his position if it was only possible. He wanted to forget everything else again and enjoy the remaining hours of the day with Luke.

“So…” Luke started, breaking the silence. Aegon couldn’t help but notice the slight jitter in his voice despite the amusement in it. “Whores, huh?”

Aegon thought for a while, confused at what Luke was getting at, but then he remembered the conversation he just had with his grandfather. He let out a snort. “It was the first thing that came into my mind.”

Luke took a step back and Aegon almost whined at the loss of contact. His nephew put an arm’s distance between them to look at him properly, his lip caught between his teeth, his eyes glinting with curiosity. Aegon felt intrigued and waited for Luke to speak.

“Have you ever brought whores here in your bedchamber?” Luke barely met his eyes, his voice low, almost like a whisper.

The inquiry was a bit of a surprise if Aegon was being honest. He thought it was one of the obvious things about him, especially after his conversation with Grandfather. Aegon licked his lips, nodding. “Uh, yes. I have before. A few times.”

“Oh,” was only Luke’s response. It looked like he wanted to say more, but he bit his tongue instead, conflict passing in his eyes. Whatever it was, Aegon didn’t get to hear it because Luke turned away from him.

Somehow, the air around them had become uncomfortable. Aegon was terribly confused. One moment, Luke was all too gentle embracing him, then the next, he was acting strange and avoiding his gaze. Sometimes, he still couldn’t quite understand how Luke’s mind worked.

“It’s a misunderstanding,” Luke said suddenly.

Blinking, Aegon could only raise his eyebrows. “What?”

“It’s a misunderstanding. What I said earlier—I didn’t mean to imply that this was another lesson of ours.”

Ultimately, things fell into place, and Aegon’s lips formed into a small ‘o’ as he understood what Luke was getting at. Truth be told, he had all but forgotten about their exchange after Grandfather left, though it seemed like it took root in Luke’s head instead. 

It was a small matter. Not of importance. Who cared about the reasons for their coupling? Certainly, not Aegon.

Or at least, that was how he would like reality to be.

However, there was a knot inside his chest that he couldn’t unwind. Both of them were having fun, that was all that mattered. That was all that should matter. He wanted not to care, he wanted to act like Luke’s words—whether they were a misunderstanding or not—to have little to no effect on him, but it was impossible. 

Aegon tried to smile, though he wasn’t sure how genuine it came across. “It’s fine if you still see this as a lesson, nephew. There is nothing wrong with that.” 

He knew that Luke wanted him—his nephew had said it, and Luke wasn’t particularly a good liar to deceive him in any way. A part of him genuinely wanted Aegon. Though that didn’t mean that he no longer saw their trysts as a lesson for his future endeavors, which may or may not include Aegon. Things could exist as truth at the same time.

Luke finally turned on his feet to meet his eyes. There was a spark of anger in them that made Aegon want to scoff. Aegon was giving him more freedom in his proclivities and he still had the gall to be angry at him?

“Don’t dismiss me like that,” Luke said. “I’m saying that I see this as a lesson no longer.”

“And all I’m saying is that it’s fine if you do,” Aegon responded, throwing his hands in frustration.

The frown on Luke’s brow deepened. The anger in his eyes was unlike any Aegon had seen. It wasn’t as fiery and sharp—not a true wrath then. It was more akin to disbelief, almost like disappointment that made Aegon clench his jaw. 

“Why? Do you still see it that way?” Luke asked, and this time, Aegon couldn’t prevent his scoff. To accuse Aegon, out of all people, of such things was truly laughable. And he would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the sharp prick he continuously felt in his chest. “Do you still venture to the Street of Silk and seek out the company of a whore?”

“What?” Aegon stood up, walking back and forth to calm himself. Grandfather visiting and almost catching them was enough, Aegon didn’t really need any more on his plate. He ran a hand down his face, sighing, before turning back to Luke.

Luke’s face was crimson. Aegon took his chin and made him look at him. He searched in those dark brown eyes of his nephew, hoping to find more answers. And in those dark depths, Aegon found something that he had seen before.

It reminded him of their time in the brothel once again. When Luke was being pleasured by a whore while Aegon took the liberty to call a whore for himself. He remembered the sudden silence; he remembered Luke watching him getting pleasured with raw fire in his eyes. It was still vivid in his memory how Luke asked him to make the whores leave because he didn’t like it. Because he wanted the moment for themselves instead. 

“I have never gone to the city since our little trip,” Aegon said, not tearing his gaze away, watching all the emotions flicker in Luke’s eyes. “You need not worry. I have never touched anyone else since then.”

“Oh.” Luke seemed genuinely surprised, and Aegon couldn’t blame him. Aegon couldn’t quite believe it either. “So it’s alright with you to just cease your routine?”

“Well, I’ve done it, haven’t I?”

Luke didn’t move as Aegon cupped his cheek, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips. However, despite his best attempt at comfort, Luke still seemed conflicted. 

“What are you thinking?” Aegon asked softly.

Licking his lips, Luke’s eyelashes fluttered as his eyes met his. There was an air of nervousness around him as if he was trying to make his way through a path full of shattered glass. He swallowed visibly and asked, “What were you to do then… if it was I who sought out the company of another?”

The words were like a slap, so hard that the sting was numbing. Aegon almost reeled back, his knees almost quivering, but he stood his ground, his hand slowly dropping from Luke’s face. His palm felt scorched, and he clenched his fist by his side to hide the tremble that the burn came with.

Only one person came to Aegon’s mind, the one who was arguably the reason why Aegon started doing all these things in the first place. In hindsight, it was another foolish moment on his part to try to forget about Aemond. Despite being absent recently, his younger brother would always come to haunt him. Almost like a ghost in the night evoked by the mere mention of its name.

Aegon should probably start getting used to it. As much as he would like it, the chances that Luke’s interest in Aemond dwindled down were close to none. Given their history, they were always fated to clash against each other. One way or another, Luke and Aemond would always be present in each other’s lives, either physically or as a waking thought. It was inescapable, and there was nothing Aegon could do about that.

Shifting his weight on another foot, Aegon scratched the back of his neck. He had no problems saying things he didn’t mean, but at that moment, Aegon felt like his tongue had been removed. He cleared his throat. “In that, I do not lie. If you consider what we do as a lesson, it’s fine. And if you wish to bed someone else then I don’t find any problems with it.”

“I see,” Luke said, his shoulders sagging, casting down his gaze. Aegon wanted to reach out to him, but the moment had already died down. He wouldn’t know what to say anyway so there was no point in continuing the conversation.

“Right. We should go,” Aegon said, remembering his grandfather’s words. “The maids will probably arrive soon to clean this up.”

They fixed themselves, ensuring that they both looked presentable as much as one could after fucking. Then Aegon checked for any lingering person outside, and when he deemed it safe, he and Luke walked out.

For a brief moment, they stood outside of Aegon’s room, trying to look anywhere but each other. Aegon had been in multiple uncomfortable situations but none were like this. The bliss they shared together earlier seemed like it had waned into nothingness.

“I’ll go back to my room then,” Luke said after a while.

“Let me walk you back,” Aegon said. He wanted to prolong their time together as much as possible. Once Luke was gone, Aegon would be alone to his own devices again and he didn’t like the idea of it. Especially since his grandfather paid him another visit and would be probably back later on.

“Okay,” Luke said with a nod.

Silence continued to accompany them on their walk, though the uneasiness lingered. Aegon tried to clear his mind, focusing on the dull sound of their footfalls, but he still couldn’t find it in himself to relax. 

It was the middle of the day, and everyone in the Red Keep seemed busy doing their chores. Despite that, Aegon looked around their surroundings a few times, checking to see if there were any other people nearby. Which shouldn’t be necessary. It wasn’t a strange thing for him and Luke to be seen together. It was already known that Aegon was spending more time with Rhaenyra’s children, specifically with his nephew, and so there was no point in being subtle about this.

Perhaps it was still the nerves from being almost caught earlier that kept bothering him. Aegon felt like there were eyes of judgment upon him, telling him that it wasn’t still safe to be seen with Luke even though they were far from what they were doing behind closed doors. He put his hands behind his back and clasped them together lest his fingers started fidgeting for no reason. 

As they reached the part of the castle where Luke and his family resided, Aegon immediately noticed a particular door with two guards outside. Not even Aegon, who was the son of the King, had that kind of security—his only guard was Ser Erryk, and that was if he wasn’t busy doing other Kingsguard duties. If Aegon didn’t know any better, he would’ve thought that it was his father’s chamber.

He slowly came to a halt, a good distance away from the guards, and beside him, Luke stopped as well. “Your room is heavily guarded indeed,” he said.

Luke sighed. “I know. It isn’t so bad. They mainly keep to themselves. Though they can be quite strict on the servants who came and went.”

“And you say this started after we went to the city?” Aegon asked, his voice almost a whisper even though there was no one immediate to hear them.

“Yes,” Luke said again, nodding. “I think they answer to Daemon.”

Aegon went cold to the bones. It was another proof that Daemon did know something. Otherwise, there wouldn’t be such drastic measures to safeguard Luke and his room. What Aegon couldn’t understand was that, for the reputation Daemon had, it seemed strange that Daemon only gave him an intimidating visit. 

Not that Aegon was asking for more or wishing that something else happened to him. In fact, he was close to praying to the gods for Daemon to never approach him ever again.

“They still haven’t talked to you about our little excursion?” Aegon asked.

Luke shook his head. “No. They may still be unaware. Everyone was acting normally the day after we went to the city. I think… perhaps the guards are there because of the gruesome result of my inheritance being challenged by Ser Vaemond.”

It was a possibility, but Aegon couldn’t help thinking that it was such a small one. The dispute had already happened weeks ago. Moreover, Vaemond Velaryon had no allies left in the capital as they already scurried back to Driftmark along with his corpse. Adding more guards would be a moot action.

For the moment, however, Aegon conceded to the idea. All this thinking was making his head hurt. First, his grandfather, and now, it was Daemon. Was this how it usually was when Daemon Targaryen and Otto Hightower were working in the same council? 

He shrugged his thoughts away and gave Luke a small smile. Suddenly, he remembered their exchange in the godswood. “With all these guards, I think it would be impossible for you to fulfill your dream of going to a playhouse.”

Luke giggled. “Don’t they operate during daytime?”

“They do. But the plays are far better during the night,” Aegon said with a hum.

Then there was a creak as the doors to Luke’s room opened. Instinctively, Aegon tried to step aside and hide next to the wall, but he saw that it was only a servant coming out of the chamber. Probably a maid who finished cleaning Luke’s room.

Aegon sighed in relief as the servant walked in the opposite direction. Before the guards closed the doors, he had a small peek at what Luke’s room looked like inside. It was not different from his own, perhaps a tad neater, but Aegon found it oddly too familiar. He reached out for Luke’s shoulder.

“Wait,” he said. “I think I recognize your bedchamber. This one has a secret passageway, it leads to a hallway.”

“Are you certain?” Luke asked.

Aegon took another good look around the area, making sure that they were indeed in the right part of the Keep. “Yes. I’ve stumbled upon this when I was looking for more secret doorways. It was a shame that it only led to a room.”

Luke’s eyes gleamed with interest. “Can you show me?”

Going back to where they came from, Aegon made a different turn and led Luke to a flight down the stairs. They reached another corridor, one that wasn’t as occupied as the royal quarters, but Aegon still kept up his guard as they approached the wall with the secret door.

Ensuring that there were no unwanted eyes or ears nearby, Aegon took a deep breath. He held Luke’s hand, and together, they entered through the secret door before closing it behind them. 

They were engulfed in darkness, the air inside cold and muggy. Luke’s grip on his hand tightened, and Aegon could hear the deep breathing he made through his lips. Aegon forgot that no light shone inside this particular passageway, and the fact that there would be stairs and the space would be very narrow.

“Luke, are you okay?” he asked, his voice echoing.

“Yes. It’s so dark.” There was a slight jitter in Luke’s voice.

Aegon brushed a thumb on the back of Luke’s hand. “I know. Can you bear with it?”

“I’m not a craven,” Luke retorted, and Aegon could almost see his pout.

“Never said you were,” Aegon said with a chuckle. “I don’t think we can walk up the stairs together. You should go first. I’ll be right behind you and make sure you don’t fall.”

“Okay,” Luke said. Aegon heard him inhale deeply, and there was a moment of silence before Luke finally started moving forward.

True to his word, Aegon followed right behind him. His one hand rested on Luke’s waist, supporting his every climb, while his other hand groped for the wall. It was a difficult trek, especially with the spiraling path and the steps being a bit uneven and slippery, but Aegon continuously reassured Luke. 

It felt long, but Aegon would rather take his time than have both of them fall from being too hasty. Eventually, Luke paused with a small yelp.

“I see light!” Luke’s voice reverberated through the narrow walls.

Aegon peered up, and there was light indeed. “We’re here then.”

Reaching the final step, Aegon leaned over to push the door open. The light momentarily blinded them as they stumbled forward to the room. Aegon blinked a few times and found that he and Luke had fallen in heaps on the floor.

He stood up and offered his hand, which Luke gladly took. There was a huge grin on his nephew’s face, his eyes glinting with mirth, and Aegon had all but forgotten the worries creeping in the back of his mind.

“We’re actually in my room,” Luke said, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “It was indeed a secret path.”

Aegon grinned back. “Now, your plans on visiting a playhouse are no longer impossible.”   

Luke hummed and stepped toward him, closing their distance. The flowery scent that Aegon grew to be entranced by filled his nose. “As long as you come with me,” Luke said, his voice almost sultry, taking Aegon’s breath away.

He was about to lean forward and take Luke’s lips when suddenly, there was a muffled voice outside the doors. The two of them immediately stepped away from each other, their eyes round and wide.

“Is Luke inside?” said the voice. A woman.

“That’s Rhaena,” Luke hissed. 

“He hasn’t gone back, my lady,” answered one of the guards.

“Are you certain? We haven’t seen him anywhere again. I’d like to come in.”

“You need to go,” Luke said, ushering him toward the secret door.

Aegon almost wanted to laugh. It was like the events earlier in his room were happening once again. He turned toward the door, but then Luke suddenly pulled him by his hand and planted a quick kiss on his lips. Before Aegon could respond, Luke gently pushed him to the passageway and closed the door.

Inside, he heard the doors open and the muffled voice of Rhaena streamed in. He tried to stay for a while and listen to them out of pure curiosity, but he couldn’t discern their words. The secret door was too thick for an eavesdropper, it seemed.

Looking ahead, Aegon was met with the total darkness of the passageway. He heaved a sigh. He only hoped that he wouldn’t fall.

+ + +

Fortunately, Aegon survived his way back from the secret passageway.

What was unfortunate, however, was that Grandfather not only sent servants to clean his bedchamber but also handmaidens to help him with his bath. Aegon tried to make them leave, but they only said that they were on strict orders from the Hand of the King.

Aegon couldn’t countermand that authority. 

Begrudgingly, Aegon had to scrub himself raw while the maids stood by. At least, they obeyed when he told them that he could clean himself on his own. Though when he finished, they all flocked to him once again to dress him.

It felt like there was more to the occasion with the way the servants pampered him, combing his hair and putting mysterious oil on them. Not even Mother had fussed him over like this. The garments they brought him were extravagant with rich fabric and intricate patterns, their color vibrant like an emerald.

He wasn’t quite adept in the history of the houses, but he knew that green wasn’t the color of the Hightowers. However, his mother had a particular liking for it and always dressed them in that color even though they should have been wearing red and black. Now, Mother and Grandfather’s faction were distinguished by this color while Rhaenyra’s family—the same ones they called bastards—were associated with the colors of House Targaryen.

It all seemed ironic as Aegon thought about it. If Mother’s words when they were children were all true, shouldn’t Aegon and his siblings be the ones garbed in the color of their house? 

Sometimes Aegon wished that this kind of thought never grazed his mind. His day had already been a long one, and it wasn’t done yet, the evening still awaiting him. These thoughts only made him feel ill, his throat craving for the burn of a rum. 

When he was finally done dressing, Aegon decided to go to the dining hall early. Maybe he could down a few glasses of wine while waiting for everyone. 

Ser Erryk was already waiting for him outside when he stepped out of his room. Aegon fought the urge to groan and roll his eyes. The Kingsguard didn’t say anything and only led him to the dining hall.

The guards outside opened the doors and Aegon entered, almost skipping on his feet to his excitement that he’d finally get to drink. But then as the doors behind him closed with a thud, Aegon felt his heart drop to the pit of his stomach.

Because standing in the middle of the room was Luke, and towering in front of him was none other than Aegon’s brother.

The two seemed to be so lost in their own world that their gazes didn’t even break away from each other at Aegon’s arrival. They weren’t probably aware that they were no longer alone in the room.

Aemond’s face was impassive, almost like a hard stone, but Aegon could still see the tightness on his jaw, the subtle purse on his lips. There was ire and displeasure in his purple eye as he stared down at Luke, unblinking, his fingers gripping the collar of Luke’s doublet.

Aegon followed his brother’s gaze. Aemond wasn’t looking at Luke’s face but rather at the collar he was holding in his fingers. No, Aegon realized, his brother’s gaze was focused on Luke’s neck instead—at the deep purple mark that bloomed on the skin of it. The same mark that Aegon had made only earlier in the day.

His eyes wandered to Luke. His nephew held his head up high, not backing down from Aemond’s looming form. There were no signs of fear in his eyes—he never had in the face of Aegon’s younger brother. Luke was always defiant, fire crackling in his veins, ready to retaliate if needed.

But that wasn’t the only thing Aegon saw. 

In the midst of the challenging blaze in Luke’s eyes, there was also something else. Something he had seen before. A flicker of a different heat, almost encompassing Luke’s brown eyes and turning them black. And it was more than just his eyes. His cheeks were flushed, matching the color of his doublet. His lips were in a similar shade too, parted and slick with spit as though he had been chewing on them.

Or—Aegon couldn’t stop his thoughts—as though someone else had turned them into such a state.

Suddenly, Aegon’s throat felt narrow, cutting off the air in his chest. He unconsciously took a step back, his body screaming to get out as soon as he could. Though the sound of his movement finally cut through the spell between Luke and Aemond, and Luke’s head whipped around, his eyes widening at the sight of Aegon.    
  
Luke quickly pushed away from Aemond’s hold, taking several steps away, adjusting his collar to hide the mark. A mix of emotions went across his face, his mouth opening several times as if he wanted to say something, but ultimately, no words came out.

Aemond turned his attention to Aegon as well, his eye twitching, probably vexed that his moment with Luke was interrupted. But there must have been something obvious on Aegon’s face, that or Aemond’s remaining eye was keener than expected, because Aemond looked back at Luke, his gaze flitting on their nephew’s neck before turning back to Aegon again.

Days ago, before any of this had happened, Aegon would’ve laughed at the deep scowl on his brother’s face. He didn’t know why he couldn’t do it now. Why the sound was stuck in his throat, almost choking him.

This was what he wanted, after all. To rub salt into Aemond’s wounds. Because no matter how blatant Aemond’s desire was, he would never be able to act on it properly, always continuing to act like a fool. 

Aegon should have been sneering, gloating at his victory, but for some reason, all he could do was stand there like a lifeless statue, his gaze darting between his brother and his nephew.

It felt like this day kept slapping him in the face, and his mother was screaming at him again, reminding him of his duty as the oldest son.

There was an audible shaky inhale from Aemond, his nostrils flaring. His fists were clenched by his sides, trembling to hit something. Aegon didn’t need to think hard that the said something would be him, especially when Aemond started moving toward his direction.

A panicked shout rang in the room, coming from Luke. Aegon stood his ground. No matter how conflicted he felt at the moment, he wasn’t afraid to meet his brother head-on.

However, before Aemond could take more than three steps, the doors gave a loud groan as they opened.

“Aemond, Aegon, Lucerys… you three are already here.”

Aegon took a deep breath and turned to face his mother. There was uneasiness in her movements as she clasped her hands together, her lips pursing, and her gaze cautiously flitting between the three of them. Her eyes lasted on Aegon, and he already knew that she was to blame for something she didn’t even witness.

He waited for her to raise her voice, but surprisingly, her next words were calm. “Is everything alright?”

Sensing that none of the brothers were going to answer, Luke spoke up, smiling at Mother. “Yes, Queen Alicent. We’ve all just arrived as well. Coincidentally.”

Mother looked at him and Aemond once more, hoping for them to speak but silence only greeted her back. “Well then. The King and the others are arriving, you should all take a seat.”

As soon the words left her, guards came through the doors, carrying the King on his chair. Following them were Rhaenyra and Daemon, engaged in a quiet conversation. Shortly, Jace, Baela, and Rhaena came in, and of course, Helaena was with them, listening intently to their tales. The youngest Velaryon brother wasn’t around again, probably asleep already along with Rhaenyra and Daemon’s young children.

Surprisingly, Aegon’s grandfather wasn’t there yet. With how Grandfather made it seem imperative for Aegon to attend the supper, he thought that Grandfather would put importance to it as well and arrive on time.

They each took their usual seats, dividing the table once more to the two sides of the family. As Aegon sat down on his chair, he expected to see Jace once again and prepared himself for another boring night. But a different face greeted him instead. 

It wasn’t Jace and his ridiculous hair. It was Luke.

Aegon froze. Their eyes met and Luke opened his mouth but seemed to realize that they were not alone and thought better of it. He gave Aegon an acknowledging nod instead, his lips pulled by an uncertain smile.

The image of Luke and Aemond earlier occupied Aegon’s mind once more, the two of them so close to each other, heavy breaths coming out of their parted lips. It was only expected, especially after his talk with Luke back in his chamber earlier. Despite that, Aegon couldn’t control the lashing out of his heart, trying to escape the rope that was wrapping around it so tightly.

He had never felt so… wounded. Betrayed. It couldn’t even compare to the time when Aemond wrongfully pointed the blame at him or when his mother slapped him for all the court to see. What was worse, perhaps, was that Aegon knew what he was getting into—he had already thought about this exact scenario, and still, nothing could ever prepare him for it.

Sighing, Aegon licked his dry lips. He gave Luke back a smile, though it seemed like there was something wrong with it as Luke’s face dropped completely. Aegon shifted on his seat, and set his gaze straight ahead, ignoring the fact that Aemond was watching as well.

This was too much for one day. 

Fortunately, the servants arrived with the food and drinks. Aegon immediately grabbed a flagon of wine and poured it into his cup before downing it as if his life depended on it. He couldn’t even appreciate its taste, not when his mind was flooded with conflicting thoughts. He needed something stronger than this. 

He was finishing his second drink when his mother took notice of him. “Aegon, slow down,” she said, her eyes full of that familiar disapproval.

Aegon slammed the cup down on the table, catching the attention of those around him. More especially his nephew who was sitting beside him. Even if Aegon didn’t turn, he could still feel the concern that dripped from Luke’s gaze.
 
“Someone’s thirsty,” Daemon said, chuckling. Aegon made the mistake of looking at his uncle because the threatening smile on Daemon’s face only made him want to bury in his cups more.

“I’m only appreciating the wine,” Aegon said with a weak smile, holding up his empty cup.

Father hummed. He indeed looked well, apparently well enough that he remembered Aegon and gave him a look. “Best listen to your mother. Do slow down,” he said and promptly turned back to Rhaenyra to continue their discussion.

It almost made Aegon burst into laughter. Everyone turned back to their own meals, and Aegon turned back to his drink. His mother eyed him again, but he no longer cared. He drank the whole cup and gave her an empty smile.

As everyone busied themselves with their food, the doors opened once more, and Grandfather strutted in. “Apologies for my tardiness, I had to see to something important.”

“Something important?” Daemon repeated with a snort. “I wonder what that could be.”

On the other end of the table, Grandfather stared down at Daemon. “Another small dispute erupted among the merchants, and I had to come up with a temporary resolution to cease their fighting. You’d well remember this if only you were listening at the council earlier.”

Daemon scoffed, rolling his eyes. “Ah, yes. And as I recall perfectly, the disputes wouldn’t exist in the first place if it were not for the sudden levy of taxes. Wool, was it? So unnecessary.”

Grandfather’s jaw clenched, and Aegon could see his calm visage slowly slip away. Before he could respond, however, the King intervened.

“Let’s have enough of these talks about the matters of the court,” the King said with a dismissive hand. “We are about to dine. This is no place to discuss such things.”

With that, Grandfather took the empty seat next to Mother’s while Daemon didn’t try to hide the snicker on his face. These arguments, and the fact that the table was distinguished in red and black, and green colors once again—even Luke was wearing red rather than his usual Velaryon clothing—Aegon could only surmise that there were more tensions than usual in the council today.

His father requested for music to be played and the supper continued. Aegon wasn’t quite feeling hungry, but he did scoop some meat onto his plate only to stop his mother from giving him a pointed look every second.

Sooner than later, the flagon on their side of the table was empty. There was another one near his father, but he’d have to ask Luke to get it for him, which Aegon wasn’t keen on doing. It felt awkward to talk to Luke now, especially when there was still one purple eye watching his every move. 

However, as though hearing his thoughts, Luke grabbed the flagon and set it down in front of him. “Are you alright, Aegon?” Luke whispered, his hand not letting go of the wine yet.

Aegon took a deep inhale. He met Luke’s eyes and felt a pang in his chest. “Yes, I’m perfectly fine.”

Luke seemed like he wanted to say more, but he nodded instead and let go of the flagon to turn back to his meal. When Aegon took his gaze off his nephew, he found himself looking straight at Daemon, who had his eyebrow raised. Aegon turned his head away but then found that Grandfather was staring at him as well.

He could only do nothing but pour himself another drink, not bothering to look anywhere else knowing that his younger brother also saw his exchange with Luke. At this point, the wine was starting to taste like water.

As he was taking more gulps of his drink, he felt something nudge his leg. He almost choked, sputtering out wine which earned him both an exhausted sigh and a disgusted look from his mother. Aegon didn’t care. He wiped his mouth and took a quick glance at Luke, but the boy remained occupied with his plate.

I must be drunk then.

However, Aegon felt another bump to his foot. Then before he knew it, a leg crossed over his and their ankles were intertwined. Aegon took another glance at his nephew, and this time, he saw a small smile pulling the corner of Luke’s lips.

The buzz in his head was getting stronger, and Aegon felt himself chuckle. Upon noticing his grandfather’s sharp, curious eyes at him, it all died down in his throat. 

Aegon wanted to pull his foot away from Luke, but he couldn’t find it in himself to do so. He didn’t want to see disappointment on Luke’s face despite what happened; he didn’t want to let go of the warmth that his nephew’s touch gave him. It wasn’t like anyone would be able to see their legs under the table—as long as he kept a straight face, then it would be fine. 

The supper stretched on, only filled with music and chatter and occasional laughter. Grandfather and Daemon eventually stopped looking at him, but the same thing couldn’t be said for Aemond. Though truthfully, his eye was probably on Luke, who just happened to be next to Aegon so it felt like his brother was looking at him too. 

Other than that, everything went well. There were no speeches made, which was an improvement in terms of peace but a setback in terms of entertainment. It meant that no fighting occurred, which Aegon found strange relief in.

When the supper came to an end, Father thanked them all for indulging his wishes then he was escorted back to his bedchamber by the guards. With the King gone, the veil of animosity in the room dropped back, and no words were said as they all filed to leave.

There was a slight pull on Aegon’s sleeve as he stood up. Luke turned to leave as well, but as he did so, he leaned toward Aegon’s ear and whispered, “Meet me in my room.” Then within a blink, Luke already walked away.

Aegon fought the urge to groan. Doesn’t he have a single subtlety in his bone? He knows Aemond is always watching him. 

Of course, he didn’t need to look at his younger brother to confirm that he had indeed seen what happened. He didn’t bother seeing that infuriation in Aemond’s eye—if their eyes met, it would only provoke Aemond. Aegon had had enough for the day.

So instead of following his nephew’s words, Aegon went back to his bedchamber. There was still haze in his mind which he expected to lull him to sleep as he plopped down on his bed, not even changing into his nightclothes.

But despite the long day he had, Aegon’s mind remained awake, much to his frustration. He groaned and turned, but no matter what position he put himself into, sleep never came to him. He should’ve sneaked wine earlier to bring to his room. 

Laid on his back, Aegon stared at the dark ceiling of his room, heaving a sigh. Even through the layers of sheets and his clothing, the cold of the night made itself known to him, especially his bones. It made him miss the warmth on his ankle—the warmth that lingered still, tingling across his skin. 

A hot gush of breath hit the skin of his neck as though Luke was there, whispering into his ear, luring him into his room. Would Luke be disappointed that Aegon didn’t go to his room? Or would he have a deep slumber regardless?

“Fuck,” Aegon muttered under his breath as he got up from his bed. He wouldn’t be able to sleep like this if Luke kept haunting him awake. It wouldn’t be a bad idea, right? Everyone had probably gone to sleep. There wouldn’t be eyes to watch him anymore.

He opened his door slowly and found no Ser Erryk in sight. He deemed it a good sign, and with haste and still caution in his steps, he went to the secret door that led to Luke’s room.

Only to find that the door was ajar.

Aegon halted in his steps, his blood running cold. He was suddenly aware of his heart pounding against his chest. Had he forgotten to shut it earlier? He was most certain that he did, but seeing the significant gap between the door and the wall, he couldn’t help doubting himself.

Slowly, he approached the door. He yanked it open as fast as the weight of it would allow him, but only the darkness greeted him. The damp smell of the walls felt thick, and Aegon couldn’t do anything but breathe it in so he could calm himself.

This was perhaps the work of the too many cups of wine he had. He was being delirious and too antsy. Aegon shook his head, chuckling at himself. There was nothing scary about the dark.

He was about to go in when he heard a faint clang. Then another, and another, and another. It went on and on, the sound echoing through the narrow passageway, and it kept growing louder as though it was coming close to him. Then when the sound was at its loudest, something heavy rolled onto Aegon’s foot and he stepped back with a curse.

He picked up the object that hit his foot and brought it to the dim light of the hallway, his breath catching in his throat when he finally saw what it was.

A torch, and based on the warm touch to it, a recently lit one.

Aegon clambered up the stairs of the passageway, almost on all fours with haste. Thousands of thoughts flooded his head and he tried to ignore them, his own breathing becoming too loud for his ears. But he saw light, too bright to come from a closed door, and Aegon felt his limbs go numb.

Running up the remaining steps, Aegon burst into Luke’s room.

His eyes quickly adjusted to the difference in brightness, and the sight before him made him freeze. 

There was a man in Luke’s room, one that Aegon had never seen before, and he got Luke in his hold. Luke struggled in the stranger’s arms, but he couldn’t really move with the gleaming knife against his neck. 

Luke’s eyes met his, so wide with terror. “Aegon!” he cried.

His sudden outburst caught the stranger off guard, his head snapping toward Aegon. It took Aegon a second to move, throwing the torch at the man’s head, but the man had already ducked away. 

The small commotion allowed Luke to bite the stranger’s hand, making him yelp and drop his knife, the steel clattering on the ground. Luke swiftly snatched the weapon, but the man tried to take it from him. 

The two of them struggled for the knife, pushing it at each other’s face. Though it was clear that the stranger had more strength, the tip of the blade slowly inching near Luke’s face. Aegon moved before he could think. He ran toward the man and tried to tackle him, but the man was swift to dodge. But in doing so, his hold on the knife slipped, and Luke lurched forward, slicing the man across his face, blood splashing on the floor. 

The man screamed, resounding through the walls. Blindly, he tried to grab Luke, but then Luke stepped aside and, without a falter in his movements, buried the knife into the man’s eye.

Aegon flinched, taking a step back, almost choking on his spit as the dead man fell on the floor with a loud thud. Blood seeped out of the body, thick and red, pooling around it and staining the carpets.

Luke made a retching sound, his hands trembling uncontrollably. When he looked at Aegon, his eyes were red, tears overflowing down his cheeks. Aegon longed to pull his nephew into his arms, press a kiss on his forehead, and tell him that he was safe now.

Before he could take a step, however, the main doors burst open and the guards outside streamed in. “Prince Lucerys, what happened?”

Chapter Text

Aegon could barely remember what happened the day they visited Driftmark. They had received the news of the death of Laena Velaryon, Daemon’s wife, and the King immediately made preparations for all of them to go to the funeral. 

He could remember flying there on Sunfyre’s back. The brief travel allowed him some time to be at peace and enjoy the freedom of flying through the skies. After their arrival, his memories started to fade, and only bits of pieces of the funeral remained.

He remembered drowning himself in wine. He remembered Grandfather kicking him and hauling him up to go to bed. Other than that, he had no recollection of what transpired throughout the day. It might as well as though he was never there.

The night, however, was still vivid in his memories. 

They were all woken up and were ushered to the Hall of Nine. Something had befallen Prince Aemond, the servant had said. At the time, Aegon thought that it was no reason to disturb their slumber. 

His mind was still clouded with the amount of wine he had drank, but he all too remembered the maester sewing his brother’s eye shut. Then there came his mother, inquiring about his whereabouts with a slap. That sobered his mind as quick as a bat of an eye. But the pain didn’t matter, because Mother said it was nothing compared to what Aemond had suffered through while he was minding his own business.

The bastardy of Rhaenyra’s sons was put into question, and Father interrogated Aemond about where he heard such things. It was a stupid thing to ask, Aegon had thought, because even if their mother wasn’t telling it, everyone else was already doing so. 

Still, he remembered how Aemond had put him in front of the dragon’s maw, pinning the blame on him. And for the second time that night, Aegon was questioned in front of everyone for the things he had not partaken of.

Years later, Aegon found himself in that same position, albeit this time, it made sense that they put him into question. After all, they had found him in his nephew’s room despite not entering through the doors. There was another man as well, who they should interrogate more than him but alas, that man was dead. 

The hour of the night had almost plunged the whole throne room into darkness. Only some of the braziers and candelabras were lit up, their fire casting a faint orange glow in the hall. That meant their warmth wasn’t enough as well for the vast room, and so Aegon had to hug himself.

“What were you doing there, Aegon?” The King’s voice boomed from where he sat atop the Iron Throne. Aegon was surprised that his father could still be awakened at such an hour and that he still had the strength to sit the throne. Though maybe it shouldn’t be a surprise at all when the matter involved his beloved firstborn child and her son.

Aegon looked up and met his father’s remaining eye. He was aware of the other gazes set upon him, some already seething with judgment, but he paid them no mind. “I was planning to go to the city. But I saw the opened secret door instead and heard noises.”

“To the city?” Daemon snorted from the side. Aegon couldn’t help but notice the Valyrian steel sword hanging from his uncle’s hip. “There is no way to the city in that area of the castle, you dumb cunt.”

On Aegon’s other side, his mother stepped forward, and it was the first time he saw that the fury his mother harbored was for his sake instead of hurling it at him. “How dare you talk to my son like that!”

Daemon’s laughter rang in the throne room. “And now you care for your drunkard son?”

“Enough!” shouted the King. “Where is Ser Erryk?”

The said knight stepped forward and bowed. “Your Grace.”

There was already obvious pain in Father’s movements, but he pressed on, clutching onto his cane. “Where were you? It was your sworn duty to keep an eye on Aegon.”

Mother couldn’t even contain her scoff of disbelief. “It was his sworn duty to protect Aegon.” 

“I was abed, Your Grace,” Ser Erryk said. “As I always am during these hours. My duty to Prince Aegon comes in the dawn again.”

“And none of the other guards took your watch? Why is the prince free to roam around at night, even going as far as venturing to the city?” the King asked.

Aegon wanted to laugh the emptiness out of his chest. He had been escaping to the city for the last decade, a fact that was known to the whole court, and yet, his father didn’t know a thing. It was a miracle that his father could even remember that he was his son.

“What does it matter, Your Grace?” Mother said, her voice laced with disappointment. Aegon wondered if she was also remembering the night of Driftmark. “The culprit has been found, and he is dead. What is the point of questioning your own son? Prince Lucerys is even fortunate Aegon stumbled upon them by chance as their guards are incompetent.” 

For the first time since they stepped into the throne room, Rhaenyra let her voice be heard. “Was it mere coincidence? Or was he there to finish the deed, I wonder?” She stepped to the front, her sharp gaze landing on Aegon, her purple eyes turning so dark they looked almost black. Aegon never feared his half-sister until that moment, a shudder running through him.

“You must be out of your mind to even suggest that my son has a hand in this!” his mother screeched. Her eyes were brimming with tears because of her rage. It was strange, knowing she was angry for his sake, but Aegon felt a sense of warmth inside him. “We should question Lucerys instead. If there’s anyone who knows anything about the matter, it’s him.”

“My son is terribly mortified by what happened,” Rhaenyra said, her jaw clenching. “He is shaken and cannot speak.”

When the guards burst into Luke’s room, panicking with questions, Luke never spoke a word, tears endlessly flowing from his eyes. Aegon had tried to reach for him, but the guards were quick to point their spears at him—the audacity of them who couldn’t even do their duty properly.

One of the guards inspected the dead body on the floor, bringing Luke’s gaze back to it. Aegon called for him, telling him to turn away, but his words only reached empty ears. Luke then stared at his trembling hands, stained with the blood of the man he had slain, and slumped down on his knees, staring off into the void. 

More guards arrived after that.

Aegon wanted to look at his nephew. He wanted to leave his position, all else be damned, and walk across the throne room to gather Luke in his arms. But his nephew was safely shielded behind his brothers and cousins, all of whom were throwing daggers at Aegon. Rhaenys was even there too, wrapping a protective arm around them. 

The fact that Daemon also stood in the way with Dark Sister remained. Aegon wouldn’t probably make it to a step even if he dared.

Mother’s scoffing was mixed with delirious laughter. “Perhaps he cannot speak because there is nothing to speak about. How can we be certain that this attack truly happened? That it is not some farce to create a disruption?”

Aegon inhaled through his nose. “Mother…”

Rhaenyra’s eyes went wide in incredulity, her mouth agape. It took her a moment to formulate her words. “Are you—Are you insinuating that I would put my child in harm’s way to, what? Fabricate some story? Why would I even do such a thing? And let us not digress to the fact that your son was there!”

“My son was merely a passerby!”

“And how can we be certain that this was truly the case?”

“You are mad—

“Silence!” bellowed the Lord Commander of the Kingsguard from the foot of the throne. “His Grace demands silence and wants to speak.”

Father was leaning back on his seat, the remaining visible half of his face contorted in pain, his breath becoming labored. Another Kingsguard tried to approach him, but he waved his hand away stubbornly. He put his head on his hand, unable to look at anyone because of the pain, and yet, he still had the energy to rasp. “I will have the truth of it, Aegon.”

“What else truth is there?” Mother muttered, shaking her head.

“Silence, Alicent,” Father croaked out. He then finally turned his attention back to Aegon, pinning him under that rotting eye. “Tell me the truth, boy, and include all the details. What happened and what were you doing near Lucerys’ bedchamber, Aegon?”

Aegon couldn’t help but look at his mother. It was like an instinct to turn to her for guidance when problems arose. She always seemed in control of his life, always telling him what to do even if what Aegon all wanted was to be left alone. It only seemed expected that she would know what to do in that situation as well. 

However, Mother could only look at him with pity in her eyes, her fingers fidgeting. She looked lost, powerless in the very court she was trying to navigate whenever his father was incapacitated. Aegon had accepted long before that his father would never treat him and his siblings the same way he did Rhaenyra—that they would never be listened to, that they would always be at fault until proven otherwise—though it looked like Mother hoped for the opposite still.

He licked his lips, swallowing the lump that formed in his dry throat. He longed for a drink, though he doubted he could ask for one. 

“After supper, I went back to my room,” Aegon said, trying his best as he could for his voice not to show any signs of quivering. “But I couldn’t find my sleep so I wanted to venture into the city and drink at a tavern.”

The throne room was so silent that one could probably hear when a pin fell. There was an urge to look at his right even though he knew it would be for naught. Was Luke listening? Was he alright? Aegon wondered if someone was there to hold his trembling hands.

Clearing his throat, he continued. “So I left my room. I tried to look for the way outside, but I supposed my mind was clouded by the wine I drank earlier because I found myself on that side of the castle instead.”

There was another snort from Daemon, but he didn’t interrupt him. Aegon took a deep breath and looked steadily at his father’s eye. “Then I noticed that there was an open door where there should only be a wall. It was so dark I couldn’t see well inside.”

From the side, someone murmured under their breath, catching his attention. He found his younger sister, staring at the floor, her fingers moving restlessly as she mumbled incoherent words. Next to her, Aemond was trying to calm her, but their sister only tried to get away from his touch.

Then Helaena stopped and looked up at him, her lavender eyes quivering with fright. Suddenly, Aegon remembered her words from that one morning.

It’s going to be very dark…

“And?” the King pressed on.

Aegon turned back to his father. He took a deep breath, trying to pick up from where left. “And… and then an object rolled down the stairs. It was a torch, and it was still hot when I touched it.”

…and they will need to light their way.

His fingers were getting cold, and he clasped them together. “So I went up to see what was going on.”

“You went there out of curiosity? You didn’t know the path was leading to Luke’s bedchamber?” the King asked.

“Yes,” Aegon said, then he realized his answer, shaking his head. “No. I meant, yes, I went there out of curiosity. But no, I had no idea it was Luke’s bedchamber.” 

He could feel everyone’s gaze at him, weighing his words, trying to deduce whether he was telling the truth or not. Though out of all those eyes, a lone purple eye stood out the most, and Aegon could feel the heat of chagrin from his younger brother. Of course, Aemond never knew how to put his anger in the right place. 

The King nodded. “What happened then when you arrived in Luke’s room?” 

For a moment, Aegon faltered. He wasn’t certain if it was appropriate to lay out all the details of what happened when there was a possibility that Luke was listening still. He didn’t want his nephew to relive it all again. But the King was waiting, and it was evident that he was growing impatient with the frown on his face.

“When I arrived in Luke’s room…” Aegon swallowed again, shifting weight between his feet. He took a quick glance at Luke’s direction but as expected, his family was still covering him. “When I arrived there, there was a man, and he had a knife against Luke’s neck.”

There were some gasps among the small audience. Rhaenyra, upon hearing the tale, could only close her eyes and take a shaky breath.

Aegon felt like his voice was going hoarse. He really needed that drink soon. “My arrival took the man by surprise, and I threw the torch at him. This allowed Luke to bite the man, which prompted him to let go of the knife. Luke got away from his hold and took the weapon. They struggled for a bit and I tried to tackle the man down. It was enough of a distraction for Luke to… you know what happened.”

“And this is the truth, Aegon?” his father asked.

“Yes, Your Grace,” Aegon answered, hoping the sincerity in his voice was carried to the King’s ears. The reason why he was there may be false, but the rest were the utmost truth. Aegon would never hurt Luke.

“If I may, Your Grace,” said someone. Aegon turned and saw that it was Larys Strong, limping forward to speak. When the King gestured for him to continue, Larys bowed and spoke again. “Prince Aegon’s account seems to be true, Your Grace. There was indeed a bite mark on the assassin’s hand, and the torch was found under Prince Lucerys’ bed.”

“Has his identity been uncovered yet?” asked Rhaenyra.

“I’m afraid not, Princess. It’s quite difficult to tell his identity with his mangled face, but I believe the man is not known to us,” Larys answered.

“Which makes this matter graver than we thought,” Rhaenyra said, her face hardening, though her eyes remained molten in wrath. “How could a man, an outsider, know the ways of the Red Keep? Unless he was invited by someone who does.”

Mother’s laughter sounded empty and tired. “And you still think that it was my son?”

Rhaenyra looked at her, raising an eyebrow. “Did I say that?” Then she looked at Aegon. “Tell us. Was it you, brother?”

“No!” Aegon exclaimed, unable to help himself from all these accusations from his half-sister. He tried his best to stay calm, frustration in his chest was threatening to blow over. It would be so easy to tell the whole story and completely deny these allegations, but the truth would only create more problems. Both for him and Luke. “I have no reason to hurt Luke. I would never hurt him.”

Glancing back to the side, Aegon saw that Luke had finally peeked behind his family. His eyes were red-rimmed, his pupils still mirrored with palpable terror that clenched Aegon’s chest. His lips were raw from the constant chewing on them, and his curls were sticking on his forehead with sweat. Aegon wanted to reach for his hand. How could he even hurt the very man he cherished in his heart? 

His gaze went unnoticed by Daemon, and the man immediately stepped in to block the view. Then what happened next was all a blur to Aegon. There were sudden screams ringing in the room, and he heard the singing of a metal. 

The next thing Aegon knew, something cold was pressing against his neck, and Daemon Targaryen was looming over him with a sneer. Aegon tried to step back, but his blood had gone cold, his whole body becoming frozen.

“Daemon!” screamed Rhaenyra.

“Sheathe your sword, brother!” shouted the King.

“Disarm him!” yelled the Hand.

However, in the face of Daemon with Dark Sister in his hand, the guards couldn’t do a thing even with their swords pulled out. Aegon saw that they were encircling them, but none dared to move. 

Aegon squeezed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the sword grazing his skin. He had been thinking about this. He always thought that it would happen while he was alone, walking in the hallways of the castle where no one would be able to hear him scream for help. But no, here it was, happening in front of the eyes of the whole court. 

He couldn’t help but think that he was standing in the same place where Ser Vaemond Velaryon was beheaded by the same sword.

Daemon’s hand was steady, his purple eyes calm. Aegon knew his uncle wouldn’t blink an eye if he decided to swing his sword through his neck. He tried not to show much fear, but it was impossible.

Slowly, Daemon leaned forward and whispered so Aegon was the only one who could hear. “You think we wouldn’t know what you were doing?”

Aegon’s breath came out shaky and loud. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Daemon chuckled. “You’re a terrible liar, I tell you that.”

One of the guards tried to come forward, his sword ready in his hand. Though despite Daemon’s eyes on Aegon, he still saw it and pressed the blade of Dark Sister closer to the skin of Aegon’s neck.

“No! Hold your positions!” cried Mother, stopping the guard. “Daemon, please, let go of my son!”

Though the pleading of Aegon’s mother fell on deaf ears. Daemon stood his ground, studying him, waiting for him to break. Aegon only raised his chin, not giving his uncle the satisfaction.

“It seems like you can’t remember. Shall I shake your memories then?” Daemon said, voice still low but seething. “You and Lucerys. In a brothel. In an abandoned room. In your room.”

Aegon’s eyes widened, the air in his lungs leaving him. He knew the possibility of Daemon knowing about the one in the Street of Silk, but the others? Were they being watched? How long were they being watched? Did Luke know? He tried to move his head, but the Valyrian sword followed his movements closely.

“You knew,” he rasped.

“Of course, we fucking knew,” Daemon hissed. “Do you think we’re dumb?”

“Why didn’t you do anything then?” Aegon asked.

“Yes, why indeed.” Daemon’s face contorted in a scowl. Then he clicked his tongue, his eyes glinting with malevolence. “But I can do something now. I can fucking take your head right this instant—”

“Daemon. Please.”

Everyone seemed to halt and held their breaths. Daemon slowly leaned away, allowing Aegon to stumble back and finally take a gulp of air back into his chest. 

“Luke,” Rhaenyra called, worry dripping from her tone.

This cleared Aegon’s mind in an instant, his head whipping around to find the one he was looking for. And there he was indeed, approaching the center of the room slowly, approaching Aegon, his puffy eyes looking at him directly. 

There was nothing more Aegon wanted than to run right into Luke’s arms, but Daemon was still there, the sharp edges of his sword glinting even in the dim light. Luke seemed to realize that he couldn’t get close as well, sorrow crossing his face.

He stopped a good distance away from Aegon. So close, yet so far still. He took a deep breath and faced the court. His words came out shaky but not any less determined. “Aegon—Uncle Aegon has no fault in this.” 

Somewhere, Aegon heard his mother breathe in relief.

“Luke, are you certain?” Rhaenyra asked.

Luke glanced at Aegon once more, chewing on his lip. There was still fear in his eyes and the tears had yet to dry, but Aegon could see the trust in them too. He wanted to thank his nephew, but in the meantime, a nod was all he could do.

“Yes,” Luke said, voice louder this time. “Uncle Aegon is not to blame for what happened. The man who tried to kill me is already dead. Uncle Aegon saved me.”

Daemon’s jaw clenched, his grip on the hilt of his sword tightening, turning his knuckles white. However, Luke didn’t back down and continued to plead with his stepfather with his eyes. Begrudgingly, Daemon grunted and finally sheathed his sword.

A series of relieved sighs went across the room as the guards sheathed their swords as well. Daemon looked back at Aegon, giving him one last glare before strutting back to their side of the room as if nothing happened. 

With Daemon away, Mother took the opportunity to run toward Aegon and pull him to their side. It had been so long since his mother had wrapped her arms around him that it took him a moment to realize he was in her embrace. Aegon could only remain unmoving in her hold as she pressed a kiss on his temple.

“That is—that is good to hear, Lucerys,” the King said. He looked so weary now, it was a miracle he hadn’t fallen asleep yet. “Now, this affirms that Aegon is innocent of any malicious intent in the incident.”

“This still doesn’t erase the fact that someone tried to kill my son, Father,” said Rhaenyra. She then turned to face Aegon’s family again. “I want Aemond to be sharply questioned.”

“Rhaenyra,” said their father, sounding more exhausted.

“You’ve gone mad, Rhaenyra,” Mother spat.

Aemond only let out a loud grunt. 

Rhaenyra wasn’t deterred by these reactions, however. If anything, they only fueled the anger within her. “An outsider was able to get inside the castle and he knew his way around. That could only mean that the person who planned this resided within these walls. Moreover, Lucerys is specifically targeted. Perhaps Aemond still harbors resentment from the accident that happened to him all those years ago.”

To Aegon’s surprise, Aemond didn’t rise up to their half-sister’s words. It was strange to see Aemond keep his wits with him, although his fists were clenched tightly by his sides. 

While his younger brother could be questionable at times, Aegon believed that Aemond wouldn’t be able to do such a thing. At least, not to Luke. Aemond was too infatuated with their nephew, and if he did somehow lose his mind, he would be the one standing there in Luke’s room and not that stranger.

“If we’re pointing at people who might have held a grudge against Prince Lucerys, then perhaps we should point at Driftmark. Maybe some Velaryons are not happy with what happened to Vaemond,” Grandfather said.

It was the first time that the Hand of the King had spoken since they gathered in the throne room. He stood near the throne and had been silently observing the whole time. It had been the same case back in Driftmark as well, Aegon remembered. Grandfather never uttered a word or intervened until he deemed it necessary.

“Mind how you speak about my husband’s house, Lord Hand,” said Rhaenys. 

The King slammed his cane three times, it was weak but it caught the attention of everyone in the room. “What has this family become? We must stand together instead of pointing blades at each other’s necks. We share one blood. We are one family!”

“Family,” Rhaenyra repeated with disdain. “You always speak of family but it has been proven time and time again, Father, that my own family isn’t safe in the walls of this Keep. Not from vile accusations, not from baseless rumors, and not even from fatal harm. How is that a proper treatment for a family?”

“Rhaenyra,” their father said softly. 

The King’s voice, no matter how gentle, didn’t have an effect on Rhaenyra, her lips still set in a straight line. Her hands were fidgeting as though she was turning imaginary rings on her fingers. Then she took a deep breath and looked up at their father. “This is enough. My family and I will go back to Dragonstone at once.”

“No,” said the King in disbelief.

Aegon didn’t realize he had said the same thing out loud until he noticed his mother’s gaze at him. Confused and questioning. He couldn’t be bothered to keep a straight face, not when his world was falling apart.

On the other side of the room, Luke was holding onto his older brother, his face a mixture of surprise and upset. Aegon caught his gaze, noticing the denial that mirrored his own, a thousand unsaid words passing between them. Luke opened his mouth several times, but eventually, not a single sound came out.

This is not happening. Aegon refused to believe that any of this was happening. Everything that had occurred for the past hours was a creation of his mind. He had fallen asleep and the rest of the day was all but a vivid nightmare. Soon, he would wake up back in his room with Luke next to him, the afternoon for them to enjoy again. 

Grandfather never came to his room. He and Luke never had that conversation. The dinner never happened. Luke was never attacked. Aegon would wake up tomorrow and his day would start anew as it always did.

But Rhaenyra’s voice thundered once more, trembling the walls, waking Aegon to the present, reminding him how real it all was. There was no escape and Aegon’s living nightmare unfolded right before his eyes. 

“We have overstayed our welcome. It’s time my family and I go back home. Dragonstone and its people await us,” Rhaenyra said, holding her head high.

“My dear daughter,” was all the King could say before he slumped back in his seat, groaning from his pain. Mother was quick to leave her position and run for her husband, always by his side even though she was frustrated with him moments prior.

The Kingsguards clamored to help their King walk down the throne, the maesters following and monitoring closely. Rhaenyra watched with worry in her eyes but kept her distance, her fingers playing with one another. Their father was barely conscious, but he still had the strength in him to look at his beloved daughter one last time before he was hauled out of the room.

Aegon’s knees felt weak, the air in his chest getting thin. Everything seemed so far away, blurred and out of reach, the noises almost like a buzz of a bee in his ears. He couldn’t be bothered to fret over their King as most people did. His gaze remained on the other side of the court where Luke and his family stood.

Luke was as beautiful as the day he first stood in this room, with his quivering eyes and rotund cheeks that were flushed red like the sweetest wine. Back then, Luke had been clinging to his mother, anxiousness plain on his face. Still, his eyes were still filled with something enigmatic that very much intrigued Aegon.  

Though now it was all different. The light in Luke’s eyes was dim and full of sorrow. His cheeks were red and stained with tears, his lips almost wobbling as his gaze met Aegon’s. There was a time when Aegon didn’t like to see his nephew sad because he didn’t know what to do. But now, all he wanted was to wipe Luke’s tears and whisper comfort in his ears.

An apologetic smile slowly appeared on Luke’s face, which Aegon didn’t understand. What could Luke be sorry for? It was ridiculous because Luke suffered the most throughout this whole thing, and none of it was even his fault. Aegon was perfectly fine—allegations were thrown at him, but he was fine.

Both of them would be. It would take time but everything would go back to how it was. Aegon would break his fast with his nephews and cousins again. He and Luke would spend the rest of the day together again.

Except—Luke was being led away by his family. They would go back to Dragonstone. They would leave King’s Landing, and with them were Aegon’s freedom and happiness. Luke is leaving.

Aegon took a step forward, but Luke was getting farther away, slipping from his fingertips. He wanted to tell his legs to move, but they wouldn’t listen. His vision was getting blurry, focusing and unfocusing, and he just wanted to scream. But even that, he couldn’t do, not when his throat had dried up.

Luke turned his head around and took another look at him. Another smile—no longer apologetic, but it felt like a goodbye. Aegon heard something crack in his chest. He tried to smile back but the muscles of his face were frozen. He could do nothing but only stare as Luke disappeared out of the room.

The rest of the audience had turned to leave as well, but Aegon remained where he stood. He was like a statue, hollow and petrified in time. 

This is not happening.

Someone stood next to Aegon and held onto his sleeve tightly. “I’m sorry, brother.” It was Helaena, her voice barely there like a fleeting wind.

Aegon didn’t turn to look at her, his gaze still set upon the doorway where he last saw Luke and his family, hoping they’d come back. 

He was suddenly compelled to laugh, but just like before, he couldn’t. I’m sorry, his sister had said. And Aegon felt sorry for himself too.

+ + +

There was a dull ache in Rhaenyra’s temples, but no matter how hard she pressed her fingers into them, it wouldn’t seem to go away. A firm hand was placed on her shoulder, a little bit comforting but also demanding attention. She couldn’t do this, she wanted to sleep, but she must.

Daemon’s face was painted with displeasure, which she sympathized with and understood well. However, she wished he picked another time to do this battle. The night had already been long thus far, and they still had many hours ahead of them for their travel.

“I have told you, many times. We should have killed that drunken cunt while we had the chance,” Daemon spat, pacing back and forth. 

Rhaenyra felt her ears ring, deafening her and worsening the pain in her head. She couldn’t contain the venom in her voice when she spoke. “And then what? You’ve seen them tonight. As much as I wanted it to be false, you know that Luke truly cared for his uncle. We’d only hurt Luke.”

“We didn’t do anything, and Luke managed to get hurt anyway,” Daemon said, not caring how sharp his words were.

“You said it before, Daemon. You said that Aegon isn’t capable of this. You said that he had genuine feelings for Luke, and I believed you, but now you're throwing it all back at me!” Rhaenyra’s voice was getting hoarse, her throat becoming scratchy. She only now wanted to prepare for their leave in peace.

Daemon huffed a laugh, though it sounded cruel. “I did say that. But I also said we should have used him to our advantage, and now perhaps, his traitorous family got to him first.”

“Was it wrong of me to want my son happy?” Rhaenyra asked, shaking her head and throwing her hands in disbelief. “I only wanted him to experience what I did not with you.”

“You’re being too soft on Lucerys.”

“I am trying to be a mother to him.”

“And by doing so, you’re forgetting that he is to be one of your lords. One of your subjects.”

“Must everything be about the throne to you, husband?”

Suddenly, the doors to their chamber opened, cutting off the words from Daemon’s lips. Then one of the guards announced Rhaenys’ name, and the said princess walked into their room. She looked unimpressed as she sighed.

“Are you two fighting?” she asked as the doors closed behind her. Though she didn’t wait for their answers, not that Rhaenyra and Daemon would talk to her about it anyway. “Where are the children?”

Rhaenyra took a deep breath, silently grateful for the older woman’s arrival. She didn’t know how much screaming and arguing she could take for the night. “They’re all with Luke. They’re consoling him.”

“That is good. The poor boy needs it,” Rhaenys said, nodding.

Always an impatient man, Daemon grunted and asked in a hostile tone he didn’t hide, “What are you doing here, Rhaenys?”

Rhaenys didn’t pay him attention, much to Daemon’s annoyance. Her eyes remained on Rhaenyra, only addressing her when she spoke. “Your father seems to be fine now. He refuses to take the milk of the poppy, but he has succumbed to sleep.”

“That’s a relief,” she said, breathing deeply and closing her eyes for but a moment. She was glad to see her father’s condition get better for the past weeks, but the council earlier must have exhausted him.

“That’s another matter to be discussed,” Daemon said, finally sitting down. “We can’t leave. Not when Viserys is in this viper’s nest and always addled with the poppy.”

“Our son’s life has been almost taken from us, Daemon. I will not allow them to spend another day here in this castle,” she said, her voice raising. “Who’s to say that they wouldn’t attack again?”

“Rhaenyra is right,” Rhaenys said from where she was leaning against the wall. “It is fortunate that Lucerys was able to fight back, albeit it traumatized him. But what happens if there were such attempts on your younger sons? You wouldn’t always be around to protect them.”

Daemon scoffed, not hearing any of their reasons. Rhaenyra knew he was getting restless, his blood seeking violence and chaos. “Why are you still here?”

Rhaenys huffed, raising an eyebrow. “I still haven’t forgiven the both of you, but unfortunately, you are the parents of my grandchildren.”

The reminder of what they did, even if untrue, sent a sharp pang in Rhaenyra's heart. She wished she could tell Rhaenys the truth, ease a mother’s pain, but she would only open an old scar. She turned to her husband, his face still twisted in a scowl. “The children are not safe here. And there are people on Dragonstone who depend on me as well. I can’t just rule Dragonstone from afar for too long.”

“We’d be foolish to leave my brother here,” Daemon said. “They’re poisoning his body and his mind when we are not here.”

“Don’t you think I know that?” Rhaenyra fought back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes. “My father needs us, but our children need us too.”

“May I propose a solution? Though it is a temporary one,” Rhaenys said before Daemon could speak. When Rhaenyra nodded, she continued. “The children need both of you now more than ever. See to their safe travel back home, and see to the affairs of Dragonstone, rest if you must, then go back here on dragonback again. Viserys isn’t going anywhere.”

It was clear that Daemon didn’t like the idea still, and he immediately made it known. “And who’s to say they won’t try to put down Viserys as they did Lucerys during that time?”

“That is why I’ll be staying here,” said Rhaenys, crossing her arms against her chest. “Take care of your children. I’ll remain here and await your return.”

“What about Driftmark?” Rhaenyra asked.

“There are still good men from my husband’s house who oversee the matters on the island, and we have been exchanging ravens regularly,” Rhaenys said. “I have been doing this for the past moon. What are a few more days?”

Rhaenyra nodded, seeing the hope in their rather grim situation. After settling the affairs in Dragonstone, she could come back to King’s Landing and rule it from afar. Daemon could stay back and watch over their children—the frown on his face already told her of his disapproval, but that was another matter to be discussed back home. 

“Thank you, Rhaenys. I appreciate your support in these times,” she told her, smiling.

Shrugging, the woman only said, “Well, as I said, you are the parents of my grandchildren.” With that, she nodded and left the room, not sparing a single glance at Daemon.

“I don’t like this, Rhaenyra,” Daemon said once they were alone again.

“I don’t like it either. But what choice do we have?” Rhaenyra took his hand, brushing the back of it. She felt him relax under her touch. “I need you by my side to ensure the safety of our children. As soon as everything is settled, I’ll come back to King’s Landing.”

“We’ll come back, you mean.”

Rhaenyra gave him a smile. Their time was running. She’d relent, for now. “Yes. We will.”

Despite her own reassurance to her husband, uneasiness lingered in her fingertips. She longed for the weight of the rings on her fingers but she had already removed them before going to bed earlier. The only thing she could do at that moment was to hope that everything would go in her favor. 

For her father. For her children. 

+ + +

The castle felt so desolated as the seconds passed by, the hour of the night already unknown to him. Wind echoed wildly in the empty corridors, murmuring tales of the dark. It was already a different place, one that he couldn’t recognize.

Aegon wandered without a thought, his feet moving on their own. He didn’t realize where he was heading, his mind floating far away until two spears were crossed in front of him, barring him from taking another step.

“What is this?” he asked, his words barely sounding like himself.

One of the guards bowed but his stance remained. “Apologies, my prince. We are on strict orders not to let anyone through.”

It felt like a prank. A terrible one at that. Aegon waited for someone to cackle in his face. He thought it’d be more bearable that way—to be the target of some ridiculous jest rather than what was actually happening. But the silence stretched on, the guards unmoving.

“I’m the prince,” he said. The words sounded weak rolling off his tongue, but he needed to try everything he could. 

The guards were undeterred, not moving a single inch. Aegon’s hands itched to strangle their necks, but he doubted he had the skills, much less a clear mind, to fight two guards at once. The points of their spears were gleaming at him, telling him of their sharpness.

One of the nearby doors behind the guards opened. Aegon had hoped to see a mop of dark curly hair, and for a moment, he was confident that he was going to, but his hopes were crushed in an instant as a silver-gold head stormed out of the room instead. 

Rhaenyra stared at him for a moment, a plethora of emotions passing through her face. There was a frown on her forehead, her lips pursing as though she wasn’t pleased to see Aegon. Though her eyes told another story—they softened for a moment as appreciation passed through them so subtle that Aegon almost missed it.

That was the only acknowledgment he would get as Rhaenyra turned on her heels and walked the other way. Following behind her were her servants, carrying small crates and chests. Aegon reached out, hoping to call her, but Daemon appeared from the room.

“What are you doing here?” Daemon said, sneering. He gestured at the guards and they immediately went at ease, pulling back their spears.

Daemon strutted toward Aegon, making a show of resting his hand on the pommel of his sword. Aegon tried not to look at it, but he was reminded of how the weapon felt against his skin. How cold it was, how sharp it was. He calmed himself. He would not be made a coward in front of his uncle for the second time in the night.

“You’re leaving?” he asked, ignoring the slight shake in his voice. “All of you are truly leaving?”

The look on Daemon’s face turned murderous. He stalked forward and Aegon took a step back instinctively, his eyes darting down to Dark Sister, waiting for it to be unsheathed once more. 

However, Daemon ignored the sword and used his own hand instead, his fingers wrapping around Aegon’s throat. The guards looked alarmed but none dared to interfere, even when Aegon was beginning to tear up as he smacked Daemon’s arm, trying to break his hold.

“Be grateful. The only reason your head is still attached to your neck is because of Lucerys,” Daemon all but growled before letting go of him.

Aegon stumbled back as he gasped and coughed for air, reaching for his throat. An abundance of curses was ready to come out of his lips, but Aegon couldn’t speak. Instead, he glared at Daemon, and his uncle responded with a hoarse chuckle. 

If Aegon only took his training seriously, then he might have struck down his uncle right there. Kinslaying be damned. Before, he thought Grandfather’s words about the so-called Rogue Prince were exaggerated, though it seemed Grandfather was right in completely loathing the man.

“Don’t show your face to me ever again,” Daemon snarled. “I might break my vow to my stepson.”

Not even desperation could compel Aegon to respond or ask what vow he was talking about. He could only stand there as Daemon finally turned and followed where his wife had gone. Now that Rhaenyra’s family had left, the guards finally moved and left their station.

The empty corridor stared back at Aegon, the air becoming colder. His eyes were starting to blur again so he squeezed them shut, his fists trembling from clenching them too hard. He dropped down to his knees, hoping that the floor would open and swallow him whole.

He would wake up soon. Everything would go back to once they were. The image of Lucerys smiling appeared in his mind.

This is not happening.

“I’ve seen the body,” drawled a familiar voice. Aegon opened his eyes and looked up to his brother’s towering figure. He didn’t even hear him arrive or approach. 

Aemond was composed as usual, his eyepatch unskewed and not a single hair strand out of place. Underneath his calm poise, there was a hint of amusement on his lips, his purple eye glimmering in the night.

For a moment, Aegon only stared at his brother, blinking before finally finding his voice. “What body?”

“The body of the assassin,” Aemond said in a tone that told the answer should have been obvious from the start. Aegon couldn’t help his scoff. Why his brother would even purposefully look at a corpse was beyond him. Aemond didn’t mind the judgment, of course, as he continued to speak. “Our nephew really has a habit of going for the eye, hasn’t he? Thank the gods it weren’t me or else, I would’ve been fully blind.”

Silence occupied the corridor as Aegon mulled over his brother’s statement. The choice of words, the gleeful tone, even the deranged look in his eye—Aegon knew his brother was twisted in some ways, though perhaps he had underestimated Aemond.

Rhaenyra’s voice echoed in his head. Lucerys is specifically targeted. Perhaps Aemond still harbors resentment from the accident that happened to him all those years ago.

Of course, it wasn’t easy to forgive and forget when one lost an eye, even if it was deemed an accident by most people. However, Aemond also harbored other intense feelings toward the very same person who blinded him—a certain desire and possessiveness that were never acted upon. 

Unless he finally did. Aemond had had enough and took matters into his own hands, as depraved as they were.

It wouldn’t be the first time Aegon’s younger brother resorted to violence after he felt slighted. Aegon still remembered how Aemond choked him for uttering a word of his secret; how Aemond punched him for reasons he couldn’t even comprehend; and how Aemond was all but ready to attack him for doing what he couldn’t until Mother arrived. 

His younger brother liked violence just as Daemon did. Though it was usually Aegon who received his ire. Luke was untouchable. 

Or perhaps that was what Aegon thought.

Aegon took a deep breath, and before he knew it, the words were out through his gritted teeth. “Did you have a hand on it?”

Aemond halted for a moment before looking at him. When he realized that Aegon’s question was not a jest, he let out a scoff. “You must be going mad.”

There was a sliver of smugness in Aemond’s expression, his head held high, his eye looking down at Aegon as though he was filth stuck on his boot. Aegon felt the heat in his veins, the blood simmering as he tried to compose himself. He wanted to rip that look off his brother's face. 

So he did.

With a cry, Aegon leaped up to his feet and pounced at his brother. Aemond’s eye widened, surprise rendering him immobile, and he couldn’t do a thing as the sudden force made him and Aegon fall to the ground.

However, the moment of surprise was a short one. Aemond recovered and flailed in Aegon’s hold. He tried to throw out a punch, but Aegon was quick to dodge, his brother's fist only grazing his ear. They wrestled for a while, though Aegon came out the victor for now as he put Aemond in a chokehold.

“Did you fucking do it, Aemond?” he hissed.

Aemond let out a raspy laugh. “Your mind is filled with delusions, brother. Is that what happens when you stick it in where it shouldn’t be?”

“Shut your mouth!” Aegon tightened his hold. hoping to cut off the air in his brother’s throat, but Aemond had unnatural strength in those lanky arms of his. 

There was a sudden sharp pain in Aegon’s abdomen, knocking the air out of his body, making his limbs slack. This allowed Aemond to finally escape and switch their positions. Aegon found himself lying on the floor, his brother hovering above him, and a pair of hands loosely wrapped around his neck.

One eye glinting with hostility, Aemond’s fingers started to enclose bit by bit. “It was true then? You fucked him, didn’t you?”

Despite the pressure threatening to cut out his breath, Aegon couldn’t help the giggle that came out of him. It was empty but nevertheless dripping with mockery. “What does it matter to you?”

“You always ruin things for me,” Aemond spat. 

Aegon laughed once more, the sound of it echoing into the night. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “Me? You’re the one who always made things difficult for no apparent reason. You know, I tried to help you, you fucking ungrateful idiot.”

His brother didn’t hesitate to put more pressure on his airway. There was no remorse in his single eye—only venom fueled by pure hatred. Aegon had never seen him like this before, not even when he lost his eye that night. There was no doubt that Aemond would put an end to his life. “Was it out of the kindness of your heart then? You fucked Luke because you were simply being altruistic? Because you were fucking helping me?”

Eyes brimming with tears already, Aegon started to choke. He brought his fists down on Aemond’s arms as he tried to gasp for air. “You don’t even want him… He c-came to you and you drove him away so m-many times.”

Air rushed into Aegon’s chest as Aemond immediately pulled back, his face twisting, the skin under his blind eye twitching. There was vulnerability underneath the heat of his rage, and it was plain to see, not even his mask could cover it. Aegon knew had hit him where it hurt the most.

No excuses came out of Aemond, refusing to acknowledge his own failures lest he made them more real. He only exhaled through his flaring nostrils, his jaw clenching so hard Aegon could hear his teeth grind. “And you were there to pick up the pieces, weren't you? Acting like a helpful uncle. Taking advantage of his vulnerability. Always taking what’s not yours.”

When his coughing ceased, Aegon glared at his brother. “Like he’s yours? No matter how many fantasies you have conjured in your head, he’s not yours, brother.”

“He came to me first,” Aemond said, his words firm and his confidence unwavering. 

It was a truth that Aegon couldn’t deny, Luke indeed came to Aemond first. They shared a history, one that was ingrained deep into their bones. Even though they hadn’t seen each other in years, fate still had drawn them to each other.

Though that seemed like a lifetime ago. Many things have occurred since then. Luke had been with Aegon every day, not only accompanying each other in bed but also in their day-to-day activities. Luke had told him that he wanted him—not Aemond, but him, Aegon.

A harsh laugh came out of Aegon's lips, it tasted victorious and bitter at the same time. “And yet, in the end, he was in my arms.”

He barely saw the punch that was swung at him, but he did feel the pain right away. It took Aegon for a second to realize what happened. Aemond was about to bring his fist down again when a growl ripped out of Aegon’s throat. He retaliated without a thought, throwing a punch of his own.

Pain bloomed on Aegon’s face one after another, but the sting on his knuckles, the feeling of his brother's jaw against his fist made him forget about the hits he was receiving. Curses were hurled at each other, no more ruthless than their punches, which only fueled the strength of their blows.

There was no grace in it—not like Aegon was ever born with finesse in his body. Their movements were like a whirlwind of fists, sloppy yet forceful, almost like a fight between wild cats. Almost like a bloody brawl between the children in the fighting pits.

It was a fight to the death, and no one held back. The calculation in his brother’s movements had slipped, all those years spent training gone in the wind. Aegon already felt triumphant, making his brother undone. Nevermind the wrathful punches and kicks done to his body, Aemond was so rattled he was destroying himself. It was a two-against-one fight.

“I told you not to meddle in my business,” Aemond growled, his fist connecting with Aegon’s jaw.

Aegon sent his knee to his brother’s stomach. “Was it your business when nothing even happened between you two?”

Aemond stopped his fist before it made contact with his face. There were further cracks in his mask, vulnerability slipping in.  “I was—I was waiting! But you took that from me!”

“Of course, you’re always the victim, aren’t you? It’s no fault of mine you couldn’t do something normally about your wants. You had to resort to depravity to take it.”

“You imbecile. It wasn’t me!”

“What is this madness?” a voice resounded through the walls.

The next thing Aegon knew, the strikes suddenly ceased and the weight above him was gone. Aemond thrashed as Ser Criston hauled him away, Aegon would laugh at the sight if his grandfather’s towering figure didn’t appear next to him.

Clambering to his feet, Aegon dusted off his hands and clothes. He couldn’t decipher the look in Grandfather’s eyes, but it didn’t need much thinking to know that he was displeased with Aegon and his brother’s behavior. 

Aegon couldn’t be bothered to feel ashamed about it. Neither did Aemond as he finally pried himself free from Ser Criston’s hands. His usual neat look was gone, his hair disarrayed and his clothes disheveled, and Aegon felt satisfaction run through his body. There was no clear victor in their scuffle, but seeing his brother lose composure was enough.

“Ser Criston, see Prince Aemond to his bedchamber,” Grandfather said.

The Kingsguard hesitated for a moment, giving Aemond a side glance as though checking his temper. The two were quite close—aside from always heeding Mother’s commands, their love for weapons and battles had drawn them together. They were almost like the same person but in different bodies, both boring and ridiculous.

Eventually, Ser Criston nodded, still following the higher authority. He nodded at Aemond, but the man only clenched his jaw, staring at Grandfather. Aegon couldn‘t help the slight pull of his lips, which caught his younger brother’s attention. His scowl turned uglier and he took a step forward.

Ser Criston stopped Aemond by grabbing his elbow, but Aemond was quick to wrench his arm away. Finally accepting the draw—or defeat, in Aegon’s opinion—Aemond grunted and walked away without looking back. The Kingsguard bowed at Grandfather before following him.

Aegon took a deep breath as their footsteps faded away. It was a brief relief before remembering that he was left alone with his grandfather. Not looking at the said man, Aegon turned to leave.

“What happened?” his grandfather asked.

Suppressing his groan, Aegon halted in his steps and turned back to face his grandfather. “It was nothing,” he said begrudgingly. “A mere boyish fight as it always was.”

Grandfather hummed. He gently but firmly pulled Aegon to the side, far from any doors or light from the torches. In this dim light, Grandfather’s face looked more ominous. “Is that all there’s to it then? Your mere boyish fight didn’t concern a particular bastard?” 

His grandfather’s hand remained resting atop his shoulder. If he felt Aegon stiffened, he didn’t show any acknowledgment. It shouldn’t be a surprise. Grandfather knew about Aegon’s spending time with Luke albeit under false pretenses, it only made sense that he would have an inkling regarding Aemond’s obsession with their nephew.

“Aemond was being a fool,” Aegon bit out, trying his best not to show his anger. It was difficult but the sympathy in Grandfather’s eyes soothed him a bit. “It was his fault.”

“Don’t blame your brother. He doesn’t know anything,” Grandfather said as though he could see in the hidden depths of Aegon’s mind. “Ser Criston had done a great job making him occupied as of late.”

The already quiet hallway seemed to plunge deeper into silence. Aegon could almost hear the steady beating of his own heart. Slowly, he turned to his grandfather with confused, blinking eyes.

“I don’t understand what you mean,” he said, his tongue getting dry already.

Grandfather sighed, patting him on the shoulder. It felt heavy, but Aegon couldn’t move under his grandfather’s unreadable gaze. “Believe it or not, I find this way distasteful. Undignifying. But certain things needed a push.”

He felt his heart skip a beat, his blood freezing his bones. Aegon wanted to say something, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t even feel his limbs. It was as if his body had gone numb and he was forced to see things through.

As he stared at his grandfather longer, he recognized that there was darkness swirling in his grandfather’s eyes, a hint of satisfaction seeping through despite his supposed distaste. When Aegon remained silent, Grandfather hummed once more before continuing further.

“Lucerys wasn’t in immediate danger. He wasn’t going to be harmed,” Grandfather said, his voice calm and steady as though he was only speaking about the weather or the green grass of the summer. 

Aegon didn’t realize he took a step back until he noticed that his grandfather’s hand was hovering in the air. Grandfather put it down with a purse of his lips. He didn’t make any move toward Aegon, but he didn’t need to. No matter how Aegon tried, he still couldn’t move.

His younger brother might be right, he might be having delusions. Or perhaps he was quick to jump to conclusions, twisting everyone’s words. He had misunderstood what Grandfather was implying, that was all there was to it.

Grandfather could be a git at times, always pushing duties upon him, always watching him, hoping to shape him into the proper prince that he had been dreaming of. But dabbling in depravity was not one of his pursuits. Immorality was more of Daemon’s area while Grandfather treasured his honor and integrity.  

“Your worries were unnecessary, my grandson. Lucerys was always going to be fine.” Each time a word came out of his grandfather, Aegon wanted to put a hand over his mouth and shove it all back in. Though his grandfather didn’t seem to notice the conflict of emotions within him—or he chose to ignore it on purpose. “I know you care for your nephew more than what you showed. I understand why you had to lie and hide things from me, but in the end, everything went accordingly.”

There was a choked-off sob, and Aegon realized that it came from him. He found his voice but it was weak and trembling. “I don’t understand what you’re saying.”

“We all each have a part to do, and now this is done,” Grandfather said, giving what seemed to be a reassuring smile, but it only sent a shudder down Aegon’s spine. “I suppose you have done your part as well.”

His tongue felt dry and heavy, but Aegon managed to speak again. “What do you mean I have done my part?”

Grandfather raised an eyebrow, his head tilting. Aegon laughed, this was ridiculous. He had done nothing—he had no part in whatever plan his grandfather was making. Of course, Grandfather always had a rebuttal for every thought in his head. “It’s because of you, Aegon, that the secret passageway became known to us.”

“No,” Aegon said, shaking his head. It was the only thing he could say as he felt something wet run down his cheeks. “No, no, no. No.”

“You’re not naive, Aegon. You knew this already,” his grandfather said with a tut. “You knew that I’m aware of your little trip to the Street of Silk, of course, I’m also aware of everything else.” 

How could he be so stupid? Otto Hightower wasn’t a naive man. He had served as the Hand under the reign of two kings, he wasn’t some random man that could be fooled by a single lie. Even if Aegon managed to be convincing with his false reports, his grandfather had eyes everywhere to confirm any statement from him.

Aegon’s body was drained of blood as he thought more about it. Those moments when Aegon felt that there were unwanted gazes upon him came to his mind. It wasn’t only Daemon, his grandfather was having him watched too—his grandfather knew the true nature of his and Luke’s relationship too.

But unlike Daemon, the Rogue Prince known for his brutality, it was his grandfather who had taken action.
 
“That’s why you were tardy during supper,” Aegon said, and there was nothing but disbelief in his tone.

“It’s not easy to arrange plans quickly. I knew we had to take the opportunity that you have presented us.”

“Stop doing that,” Aegon hissed. “Stop acting like I am a part of this. You’ve used me!”

The look on his grandfather’s was unimpressed. He inhaled deeply and shook his head at Aegon as though he was disappointed. “But you are indeed a part of this, my grandson. Sacrifices are always going to be made for the sake of the realm. Now you have done yours.”

Aegon felt like he was getting sick, bile rising up to his throat, his vision becoming hazy. His mind was filled with the image of Luke—his nephew with a knife against his neck, fear flashing in his eyes, and the emptiness after he was forced to slay the assassin. Luke couldn’t even speak afterward, his body becoming an empty shell because of the horror he had done in order to save himself.

Quivering, Aegon couldn’t help but look at his own hand. The same hand that tried to save his nephew, that caressed and held him while they were alone in their own world. It might be the same hand that put Luke in harm’s way after all.

He was going to retch.

This is not happening.

Looking at his grandfather one last time, shuddering under his sharp gaze, Aegon turned on his heels and ran. The walls and columns of the corridors were a blur as he passed by. He didn’t dare to take pause despite his breath becoming thin. He didn’t stop—he couldn’t stop. He let his legs take him, his mind slowly falling apart.

Familiar doors came into view and he quickly dashed inside his bedchamber, barring the doors. He heaved as he caught his breath, resting his hands on his knees. There was a loud pounding against his ears, and he squeezed his eyes shut, blocking everything in sight and hearing.

When the air finally came back to his lungs and his head no longer felt like it was going to split into two, Aegon opened his eyes and stood up straight. He looked around his room, the crack in his chest extending to his limbs. It was as empty as he had left it mere moments ago. 

It was as hollow as how his heart felt.

As he dragged his body to the bed, he noticed something on the table next to it. There was a parchment, crumpled and hastily folded by the look of it. Aegon couldn’t remember acquiring it. After all, he didn’t have any reasons to write, and he didn’t like going near tomes as well.

He picked it up and unfolded it carefully, his breath catching in his throat as he recognized the familiar handwriting. The letter only contained one word, and Aegon felt like his world was caving in on itself once more.

Farewell—

The word ended with a scribble of a line as if it were unfinished. Luke was being rushed by his family to leave and yet, he still tried to leave a little note to Aegon. He wondered what else Luke would have said, though perhaps that was something that he would never be able to uncover.

Images of Luke filled his mind. The perpetual curiosity in his eyes; the bursts of anger, contorting his beautiful face; the glow on his cheeks as he was filled with mirth; the innocence of his smile, so bright and warm. And now—

Gone, it was all gone. 

He was gone.

Aegon sat on the bed, staring at the letter, reading it again, and again, and again. And when the word had all but lost its meaning, he folded the letter and clutched it against his chest. 

Everything had lost its meaning too.

Chapter Text

He didn’t know what hour it was anymore, only that the sky was so dark not even the stars could alight it. The walls were like blocks of ice, the coldness burning his fingertips as he staggered and leaned against them.

Back when he was a young child, Aegon was under the tutelage of a maester who came from the north. Aegon didn’t like listening to him, but he remembered the maester always telling him of legends of the long night that supposedly happened thousands of years ago. It was a time when the night stretched on forever, and the sun refused to shine.

Aegon wondered if it was anything like what he was experiencing or perhaps worse. His night had felt so long that he no longer knew when it would end—if it would even end, for that matter. It was like he was plunged into the darkness; not even the brightest of fires could light his way out.

Listless feet wandering, Aegon found himself in the cellars, and a hollow laughter rang out from his throat as he realized where he was. It seemed that he’d always come back to his cups. Maybe all the things that his mother had chided him for were true.

He grabbed one of the wine bottles from the shelf, removed the cork with a pop, and took a chug until the drink was halfway empty. With the back of his hand, he wiped the liquid that dribbled down his chin, the burn in his throat only feeling like a tingle.

The wine tasted watered down, not satiating the thirst and craving within him. Irritation bleeding through his fingertips, he wanted to smash the bottle on the floor.

But then he heard the whispers.

Some servants were always up and about even in the darkest hours of the night like rats that scurried in the grimy parts of the Red Keep. Though this seemed different—the steps were hurried and the voices were hushed.

Aegon listened in, recognizing a name, feeling his breath hitched at a certain word.

The voices stopped, silence filling the gaps, Aegon took a step, his back hitting a barrel. The bottle slipped from his fingers, but it didn’t break, only making a loud clang that echoed through the walls. 

The King is dead, they had said.

Aegon didn’t think—not about the how, the why, or the when—he only turned and ran away as fast as he could.

+ + +

The wisest option was to leave the castle grounds. It would be ideal to leave the city altogether, though it would pose another problem for him. He wasn’t familiar with the lands outside King’s Landing. 

All his life he had been in the capital, mostly confined in the damp walls of the Red Keep. There were only a few times when he took a step outside of King’s Landing, but only for a short while. There was also a complication with Sunfyre. He couldn’t leave his dragon behind, but Sunfyre was too huge not to be seen flying in the skies.

With no other choice left, he ventured to the city and made his way to the slums. Flea Bottom was alive as it always was, the people busy in their own world, no one even batted an eye at Aegon despite his lack of disguise. 

Ultimately, and perhaps predictably, Aegon found himself in the tavern.

A hand slammed in front of him as he sat at the bar. “What are you doing here?” 

Jeyne’s tone was harsh, mirroring the piercing look on her face. Aegon found it strange, the barmaid could get hot-tempered at times, but that was only when her drunk customers got disruptive. On most nights, she was nice and welcoming, always ready with a tankard for him.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Is that a way to greet your most loyal patron?”

She pursed her lips, finally relaxing, but the wariness in her eyes didn’t leave. With a sigh, she left for a moment and came back with a tankard of rum. “You’ve been absent for a while.”

Aegon took a gulp of his drink. He had missed this burn. “Did you think me dead again?”

The barmaid shrugged. “Told ‘ya, you’re like a weed. Can’t be killed that easily.”

“Like a weed,” he repeated with a chuckle. “Cheers to that.”

Jeyne watched him finish his drink, her gaze attentive. Aegon shifted in his seat, swallowing the warm liquid. She hummed as her fingers drummed on the bar. “I heard some stories.”

“What stories?” 

“About the prince,” she said, which was confusing. There were a lot of princes, she had to be more specific. The question must have been evident on his face since the barmaid continued. “The one that ‘ya brought here.”

Aegon tensed up, the rest of the tavern suddenly far away. His grip on his tankard tightened as he stared up at the woman. The sun hadn’t even risen yet, and the body of the assassin was probably warm still. “Where did you hear that?”

“I told ‘ya, word gets around fast,” Jeyne said, not tearing her eyes away. 

He stared at her for a moment, searching her face. Though the barmaid was resolute, she was as firm as steel, not letting anything slip. Aegon looked at her harder, refusing to back down easily.

“Which one of them are you working for?” he asked. That took Jeyne aback, her gaze faltering, and she tried to cover it up, bringing down the visor of her imaginary helm, but it was too late. Aegon had seen the raw glint in her eyes. “Ah. You work for Daemon, don’t you? Is that why you befriended me?”

This was Flea Bottom, a barely charted water for his Grandfather but a familiar territory for Daemon. A kingdom, more like. It wasn’t implausible that Lord Flea Bottom still had people loyal to him in the said place.

It was a shame, however, that Aegon felt the sting of betrayal in his chest. Jeyne was just another barmaid in the city—a bit different from the others, kinder and congenial, but nevertheless, the same. Though she let him sleep when he was too smashed to go home and gave him free drinks all the time as well. He wondered how many of those acts of kindness were not in exchange for information given to Daemon.

Probably none.

Jeyne clenched her jaw but didn’t deny the allegation. “Don’t take it so personally, little prince. I enjoyed your presence. Truly.”

Using that nickname was undeniably worse, and Aegon felt himself chuckle bitterly. It would’ve been better if she had crushed all his hopes and stomped on it to smithereens. 

“Give me more,” he demanded, voice taut and cruel, slamming down the empty tankard with more force than he intended.

The barmaid wasn’t impressed, putting her hands on her hips. “That’s enough.”

“Give me more!” He slammed the tankard again, rattling the bar. Some of the nearby customers turned their heads, but Aegon didn’t care. They could look if they wished, none of it mattered.

“I think it’s time for you to leave,” Jeyne said firmly. There was anger brewing in her eyes, but there was also something else. Something soft like sympathy. Or pity. He didn’t need either from her.

“No,” he said defiantly. His vision was starting to blur at the edges, the people around him moving slowly, their chatters turning muted. His grip on his tankard tightened.

Jeyne sighed, shaking her head. “Oh, little prince.”

He couldn’t say he was surprised to find himself thrown outside, stumbling on the grimy stones of the alley. He wanted to scream at them—how dare they treat a prince like this—but everything was spinning. Everything swirled into one, and when he tried to stand up, he only slipped and fell back down.

The bottle of wine he had finished in the castle wasn’t watered down after all.

Surrendering to the fatigue in his limbs, Aegon slumped into the ground. People walked past him, their feet almost tripping and stepping on his arms, but he didn’t care. He only wished to rest, get his sleep, and be swallowed by the cold ground.

Perhaps he’d find his peace here again. His freedom.

All of a sudden, he was flipped onto his back. He groaned and shielded his eyes from the flames of the nearby lanterns. Why did they seem as bright as the sun?

“The White Worm sends her greetings, my prince.”

Blinking owlishly, it took him a moment to remember who the hell White Worm was. He let out a loud burp, tasting bile in the back of his throat. “The White Worm can fuck herself.”

“She says she can take you somewhere far away.”

Aegon hiccuped. He couldn’t see who he was talking to, his vision filled by the blurry midnight sky and dilapidated roofs. He rolled back again and face-planted into the ground, the mud and grime squelching as it stuck to his skin. He just wanted to sleep. 

He wanted to get away. 

So he called out weakly, his voice barely a whisper. “Take me.”

+ + +

The White Worm was a deceitful bitch.

Aegon honestly didn’t know where he was, but wherever this was, wasn’t far away, that he was sure. The prior moments had been all but a blur to him—he remembered meeting the White Worm, her voice whispering into his ear, and then a bag was put over his head.

Then the next thing he knew, he was stuffed into this tiny, dusty dark place. 

He tried to roll over, but the space was too cramped, he couldn’t even stretch his legs or raise his head. There was something wet and warm against his cheek, which had a high chance of being his vomit. His nose was too used to the smell to even feel disgust from it.

Small squeaks echoed in the darkness. It seemed like he wasn’t alone. Who would’ve thought he would appreciate the company of rats? They were silly little things, scurrying away when he coughed.

Before he could go back to his peaceful slumber, a hand yanked his leg, making him yelp. He tried to kick it away, but suddenly, he was dragged out of the confines of his newfound safe place.

Light blinded him as he emerged from the darkness. He blinked the bleariness away, trying to get away from the steel hands holding him firmly. It was the twins from the Kingsguard, he realized as soon as his vision came back to him. Ser Erryk and—Arryk, was it?

“Where is the White Worm?” he slurred, his tongue heavy and dry.

“She sold you for a price,” the one on his right said. Aegon thought it was Ser Erryk but he wasn’t quite sure. He couldn’t tell the twins apart when they stood next to each other like this. It felt like his vision was doubling and spinning once more.

The White Worm’s betrayal was no surprise to him, though he had foolishly wished otherwise. What was there to expect from someone who was supposed to take him somewhere far but only dumped him in the Sept, out of all places? 

“And why have you paid it?” There was only one person who would send the twins after him, and Aegon felt the dread creep in his drunken veins. Before he knew it, the words were out of his lips. “I want my mother.”

As though sensing his agitation, the one on the left said, “You grandfather, the Hand, will meet you outside the city walls.”

It was a reflex. Aegon mustered the remaining strength in his lifeless limbs, pushed them away, and made a run for it. He didn’t make it far before someone tackled him down.

“You flee what other men die seeking, Aegon.” At that moment, Aegon knew that this was Ser Arryk, and the urge to punch him was great. But the Kingsguard had more strength as he held Aegon down.

You flee what other men die seeking? Then let them take it. I did not ask for this. I do not want this.

Ser Arryk’s grip on his arm was like steel as he led him out of the Sept. Aegon flailed as he tried to escape, but all his efforts were for naught. The Kingsguard was determined to bring him back to his grandfather.

Outside, however, Ser Criston Cole was waiting for them, his sword ready and pointed at Ser Arryk. And of course, the bloody hound of his mother wasn’t alone. Aegon’s brother was there as well, wearing a cloak as though that would hide his conspicuous eyepatch.

Their gazes locked—the fury in Aemond’s purple eye still lingered. Aegon didn’t think twice. He broke free from Ser Arryk and ran to the stairs opposite his brother.

Aemond had ridiculously long legs, which was unfair, so his brother immediately caught him at the bottom of the stairs. Behind them, the Kingsguards clashed their swords with a clang.

Aegon tried to crawl away, but Aemond pulled him back by his leg. “No! Stop! No!” he cried as his younger brother tried to restrain him.

It was probably the alcohol still clouding his head, the haze making him feel funny. Because as he struggled against his brother, Aegon couldn’t help but laugh. It sounded maniacal even to his own ears. Perhaps he was finally losing his mind.

“Ah, we’re back at this again. I was hoping you disappeared,” Aemond said through gritted teeth. There was no lie in his words, only the plain truth that didn’t even graze Aegon’s skin.

“Is our father truly dead?” he asked. A useless question.

“Yes,” Aemond answered, “and they’re going to make you king.”

Aegon spat at his brother’s face. Aemond recoiled, allowing him to slip away. But his younger brother was quick to recover and trapped him in his arms. Aegon tried to wiggle his way out of it, kicking and screaming at the top of his lungs.

“No! Let me go!” 

But his brother was unfortunately stronger than him. Like a statue, Aemond was unmoved as Aegon writhed and thrashed. 

“Let me go!” His voice was hoarse, and his throat was scratchy. He tried to ignore the little quivers in his plea, the blur welling up in the corners of his eyes. “I have no wish to rule! No taste for duty! I’m not suited.”

He recently lost the only good thing that happened in his entire life. He couldn’t bear the thought of letting his world fall further apart—he didn’t even think that it could get any worse.

“You’ll get no argument from me,” Aemond said from behind, contempt dripping from his tone.

Aegon twisted in his brother’s hold and faced him, taking Aemond’s cheeks in his hands. Aemond flinched, obviously trying to get away, but desperation clung to Aegon. “You let me go, I will find a ship and sail away, never to be found.”

The lone eye of his brother stared down at him, the interest sparking and making it darker. Aegon knew that Aemond was considering it. Of course, he was—always ambitious and demanding great things. 

Realizing that there was hope in this yet, Aegon went for the bullseye, pulling Aemond’s face closer. “Or better yet, kill me, brother. You're the next in line, your claim will be undisputed. You’ll have everything you want and more.”

You’ll have the throne that you desired and trained and studied for. You’ll have revenge against your brother—the one you claimed ruined and took things from you. The one you claimed stole Luke away from you.

The spark of interest ignited into something massive, overtaking the purple of Aemond’s eye. It was comical to see his brother being presented with something he wanted for once. It was as though he couldn’t believe what he was hearing.

Aegon felt the tug of his lips. His brother was going to do it. Of course, he would. He would do it without a thought, right there in the open where everyone could see them, his hand reaching for the sword hanging at his hip.

But then there was another arm around Aegon’s shoulder, and his smile immediately dropped. “The Queen awaits,” Ser Criston said.

He clung to his brother’s face, waiting for his answer, ignoring the annoying presence of the Kingsguard beside him. Aemond would do it, he knew his brother would. 

Craven, Aegon thought as he was only met with silence. Even after all this time, his brother still refused to act on his wants. All talk and no actions. A damn idiot through and through.

Trembling with rage, Aegon let go of his brother. Ser Criston then hauled him away, leaving Aemond and Aegon’s hopes for freedom with him.

+ + +

The doors to his bedchamber opened with a creak.

There were multiple guards outside, specifically tasked by the Hand to forbid anyone to come in. Though of course, it wasn’t just anyone—it was Helaena. With her exhausted lilac eyes, wobbly lips, and furrowed brow.

“A dragon is back in its cage, and there is a beast beneath the boards,” she blurted out before Aegon could open his mouth. She was wringing her fingers, unable to maintain eye contact with him.

“Helaena,” he greeted her, his voice still hoarse. He didn’t want to think about her words or what they entailed so he tried to give her a smile instead. “To what do I owe this visit?”

She stood there, looking so lost. She was dressed in lavish clothes as well, vibrant and glimmering. Garments that were fitted for a celebration as opposed to Aegon’s dark attire, which seemed to be more for lamenting than anything else. Today was the day that he would lose himself, and everyone would revel in it.

He and Helaena were never good at conversing with each other, especially when the discussion was profound and sentimental. Helaena was a blank canvas, mostly devoid and cryptic, which Aegon had difficulty understanding. On the other hand, Aegon was an overflowing cup, especially when he turned to his vices, and that only overwhelmed his sister.

A heavy sigh came out of his lips. It would never work out if he tried to describe what he was feeling in his chest—the desolation, the pain, the longing. So he told her something different. A simple truth.

“I don’t want to be the king.” The words left his mouth easily, and there was so much more—I don’t want the crown, I don’t want this duty, I don’t want the whole realm at my feet, I want to be free—but he stopped himself. He didn’t want to shove everything into his sister’s arms.

“I know,” she said, giving him that blank smile of hers. She never moved from her position but she had finally set her eyes upon him. They looked so far away but still full of sorrow and sympathy. “I miss Lucerys.”

Aegon’s heart was engulfed in flames. He wanted to say it too, but hearing it out loud from his own voice would only remind him that it was not a nightmare. That everything that had happened was real. 

So he bit his tongue, cutting off the words before they even started to form.

“I’m sorry, brother,” Helaena whispered, her voice fleeting like the wind. 

His sister left after that, and the room plummeted into a dreadful silence.

A dragon is back in its cage, his sister had told him today. A memory suddenly came into his mind. 

There was a time when Helaena had told him, A dragon out of its cage, to which he snorted. After all, dragons were dragons. They were gods, free to roam every corner of the world. With their enormous sizes and unchallenged strength and scorching breath of fire, A dragon cannot be put in a cage, he had responded to his sister.

But as Aegon looked out to the window of his room, waiting for the impending doom of his freedom, he wasn’t sure if that was true anymore. Perhaps a dragon could be locked in a cage, one that was gilded in gold and sought after by many, but a cage nonetheless.

Aegon could only laugh at himself.

+ + +

“Have the decency to look grateful. Do you know what has been done to give you this day? In an hour, you will be king.”

Aegon leaned against the walls of the royal wheelhouse, his head wobbling and hitting the wood as the carriage traversed through the bumpy roads of King’s Landing toward the Dragonpit. He could hear the whispers outside, though he couldn’t decipher them.

Curses were probably thrown at him. After all, what kind of brother would steal his sister’s birthright? Never mind the fact that he and Rhaenyra didn’t have the same mother or that she never acted like a sister to him. Rhaenyra was his blood still, but Grandfather and Mother had done everything to put him on that throne.

“And Father never wanted this,” he told his mother.

“That’s not true,” Mother quickly retorted, though she couldn’t look him in the eyes as she said the words.

“He had years to name me heir and he never did.” 

In the back of Aegon’s mind, he wondered if that would change anything. If perhaps his father favored him instead of Rhaenyra, would Aegon still be averse to his duty? Would he despise it still if it was truly given to him? Would he search for his freedom or would he accept his birthright gladly?

He already felt sick, entertaining those thoughts.

“He changed his mind,” Mother said.

Aegon found himself laughing, shaking his head. It was such a ridiculous statement that everyone in court would not believe it, and they both knew it. “Mother, don’t lie. We both know Father never wanted me on that throne. He named Rhaenyra his heir and he always upheld her claim.”

“I speak the truth, my son. With his final breath, he whispered to me that you should take his place on the throne. Perhaps your father was cross that Rhaenyra left.”

He wanted to snort. Rhaenyra could commit a massacre and forsake everyone in the realm, and their father would probably still think the best of her. He would simply not withdraw his decision just because Rhaenyra left. He chose Rhaenyra because he loved her—Aegon wasn’t even certain if their father knew his name on most days. Not that he cared about it.

Sensing his stubbornness, his mother opened the box sitting between them. It contained his father’s Valyrian dagger, another heirloom that was passed down through the Targaryen kings of Westeros. 

Though Aegon saw it for what it truly was. An appeasement.

He picked up the dagger, its dark steel and ripples staring back at him. It was light, but it also felt wrong in his hand. This was not his to wield, but Rhaenyra left with her family and perhaps Father was truly crossed and died because of it, so the weapon was now in Aegon’s grasp.

Aegon didn’t know how much of that he believed. And how much of that he wanted to believe.

Mother took a deep breath. “Your grandfather, the Hand, will try to impress on you that Rhaenyra should be put to the sword. You must reject this counsel. We must not rule with cruelty and callousness. For all her faults and the accusations she hurled at us yesternight, she is your sister, your father's daughter—”

He laughed again, not taking his eyes off the dagger. Here in his palm was a symbol of power, of duty, of love, and it seemed to mock him with its curved and sharp edge. “So he’ll only put me on the throne to spite his beloved daughter.”

“Aegon, did you even hear what I just said?“

He did hear her, but the dagger’s mockery was louder. Rhaenyra should have never left, Father should have never died, this dagger should never have been in his hand, and yet here he was because all of those things happened. Because his father loved his sister so much that his improving health crashed down as soon as she stepped out of King’s Landing.

Putting the dagger down, Aegon turned to his mother. “Do you love me?”

“You imbecile.”

+ + +

It was strange. The crown that Ser Criston put upon his brow fit him nicely, but it was heavy despite being made of Valyrian steel. Too heavy. 

Perhaps it was a reminder to its wearer of all the burdens that this power came with. It wasn’t only the crown that sat on his head, but also the fate of the Seven Kingdoms. Of all the people that stood in front of him.

Blackfyre and the dagger hung from his hip, and they seemed to get heavier too.

Aegon didn’t want any of this. He didn’t want to be anchored to the ground and forced to do a duty that was never truly his. It was getting difficult to breathe. He only wished to wake up and start the day anew again. 

He met Helaena’s eyes, and he found that her cheeks were wet with silent tears. This was his funeral, after all, and she was mourning him. Because despite her blank eyes, she always had a kind heart toward pitiful creatures.

Somewhere in the deep caves of the Dragonpit, he could feel the cries and purrs of his beloved Sunfyre. He seemed to be mourning too. Aegon wished he could escape and run to his dragon, and they would fly away to a place where no one would find them.

The final moments were approaching. They presented him to everyone like a body settled down on a pyre for all the people to stare at. One last goodbye to the life that he would leave behind.

But they refused to let him go. They raised him up again, branding him with a new name. A new life. 

“Long live King Aegon!” his grandfather shouted at the top of his lungs.

Murmurs filled the pit, but Grandfather didn’t relent. He cried again and again until it was ingrained in the minds of the smallfolk. Soon, they were screaming for him too, believing the words out of their mouths, as though he was going to save them from whatever suffering they were going through.

Aegon didn’t understand. They should be hating him. His half-sister was called the Realm’s Delight for a reason. Everyone loved her—she was the chosen heir of their father, which they all accepted to be the truth. They wanted Queen Rhaenyra, not another King Aegon.

Yet, here they were, putting their fists up in the air as they cheered for the crown on his head, looking up at him with hopeful eyes and crying his name with admiration. 

How could people who only knew him by his name welcome him in their arms willingly? It was almost like they were worshiping him. A man—no, a god who came down from the skies to save them from their measly lives. King, they called him with hope and reverence.

When his mother told him he would be king, there was only anguish and regret in her eyes. As though she was disappointed that out of all her children, it had to be her most useless son who became the challenge to the throne of his old childhood companion.

When his grandfather told him he would be king, there was only hunger and determination in his eyes. As though he only saw his grandson as a tool, uneager but malleable enough to bend to his whims, to reach his ambition for power and the throne.

Now, as he stood there in front of the people of King’s Landing, Aegon felt conflicted. He didn’t want this, but a part of him wanted the adoration that he never got from his family. He felt wanted. He felt seen. It reminded him of what it was like to be around his nephew.

Luke. 

Luke. 

Luke…

Aegon couldn’t help but wonder what his nephew would think, his heart squeezing and cracking in the process. There was no doubt that Luke would despise him for stealing his mother’s throne. It wasn’t Aegon’s doing, but the reasons mattered not—it was him who wore a crown and bore the title. 

He felt his heart rising up to his throat.

Then the ground started to rumble, and before Aegon could blink, something burst out of the ground, dust and rocks erupting at the center of the pit. The screams of terror were deafening but not as loud as the trembling roar that followed.

It took a moment for Aegon to realize that a dragon was breathing down at him. The Red Queen, they called her, and sitting atop her saddle was none other than Rhaenys herself. Aegon didn’t even know that she had stayed behind.

Perhaps not all hope was lost. Here would be the final part of his funeral. He would be bathed in dragonfire, and its flames would reduce him to nothing but ashes. He had hoped that Sunfyre would be the one to do it, but such were the circumstances.

He heard Mother asking someone to protect Helaena. Then she ran toward Aegon, putting her between him and the dragon as if that could shield him from the impending fire. Though that didn’t matter—Aegon never thought that his mother cared for him like that, her grip on his arm cold and tight. He couldn’t remember if she ever held him like this before.

The dragon bared its teeth, emitting a deep growl, its hot breath sweeping the dais. Aegon’s heart was pounding, trying to break out of its cage, his palms sweating by his side. It was different staring at death right in the face rather than simply being aware of one’s funeral. Aegon couldn’t prevent the fear that overtook his body.

Rhaenys caught his gaze, and despite their distance, Aegon could see the indignation in her eyes. Underneath that, however, was a flicker of sympathy. Almost like an offer of condolence. Aegon didn’t understand—she should be angry. 

Another growl came from the dragon, leaning closer with a gush of hot breath. Mother took a step back, her hands still holding him tightly. Aegon wasn’t sure whether it was her or him who was trembling.

Swallowing the lodge in his throat, Aegon stood his ground and closed his eyes. The face of his nephew burned in the back of his eyelids, his smile bright and his eyes even brighter. This was it. This would be his end. 

He waited for the burst of flames enveloping him, but nothing happened. The dragon’s deafening roar only came with a rush of hot breath, making him and his mother stumble back, her grip on him tightening.

When Aegon opened his eyes, Rhaenys and her dragon had turned and were trying to get away, stomping the cries and bodies of the smallfolk left in the pit. The guards outside were closing the doors, locking everyone in, and Grandfather tried earnestly to shout his orders amongst the screams of the people.

Aegon watched as the dragon slipped into the space of the closing doors and flew away from the pit and from the city. He didn’t realize he had his arm reaching out as though he was asking Rhaenys to take him with her.

I should’ve asked her to take me with her. I would’ve gone to Dragonstone. I would’ve told Luke that I wasn’t a part of this. I would’ve bent the knee—

Mother gathered him in her arms, and all the life in his limbs seemed to drain away. He slumped against her hold, his mother pushing his head to lean on her shoulder as she whispered comfort into his ear. The crown on his head felt heavy but his heart was heavier.

Beneath the gaping hole of the pits, Sunfyre’s cry echoed, shaking the walls, and Aegon cried along too.

+ + +

“Aegon. Wake up!”

He had been awake for a while. He wasn’t sure if he had slept—he couldn’t quite remember the last time he had slept, for that matter. The days passed by like a blur, fleeting out of his grasp.

Mother was standing over his bed, her hands on her hips, her face twisted into a frown, her eyes glassy as though she had been crying. Aegon didn’t know why she looked so forlorn as of late. She had been vying for his position at court, and now he was crowned as king. She should be spending her days hosting grand celebrations.

Though even until now, even with the title of a king tied to Aegon’s name and crown sitting on his head, disappointment still painted her face. Aegon supposed that nothing would be ever enough for her.

“How can you keep carrying on like this?” she asked, fury and misery ringing in her voice. Aegon sat up, rubbing his eyes, the ache in his head was getting worse. “We have done everything for you!”

He paused, his jaw clenching. How could she keep shoving things back into his arms as if he were the one to cause all of this in the first place? “I never asked for this. I don’t want this. Father didn’t want this. I should give the throne to Rhaenyra—”

“Don’t you even dare finish that sentence,” Mother screeched, and Aegon heard the sound more than he felt the slap she gave him. “Do you think it would be that easy? You think you can just give up your crown and bend the knee now? As long as you live and breathe, you remain a challenge to Rhaenyra. People will look up to you and urge you to fight for what is right. The same goes for your siblings. And if you somehow give up now, the Blacks wouldn’t be kind to you—you’d be a traitor in their eyes, and the kindest mercy you can get other than dying will be taking the black.”

Mother shook her head and took a deep breath in frustration. She stared at him, no doubt wondering what she would do with a king for a son who didn’t want to act like a king. 

The short silence passed, and then she leaned down and leveled her gaze down at him. She took Aegon’s face in her hands, her palms soft against the warmth of his cheeks that they made contact with earlier. 

“Listen to me,” she said, her voice softer but not any less foreboding. “For years, Westeros has been ruled by a king. You are your father’s chosen heir. You may not see how important this is, but you’ll learn to love your duty as time goes by.”

“Is that what happened to you when you married the King? Did you learn to love your duty as his wife as time went by?” Aegon asked.

With a purse of her lips, Mother dropped her hands from his cheeks. She stood straight and sighed once more. “I’ll call for the maids to help you get dressed. You’re holding an audience in the throne room today.”  

+ + +

There was not a time that Aegon wasn’t guarded by a Kingsguard. One that seemed to see the Hand’s authority higher than the King’s. At this point, Aegon was inclined to think that the knights were a part of the Hand-of-the-Kingsguard instead. It didn’t help that the new Lord Commander was Criston Cole, his mother’s most loyal hound. 

He missed Ser Erryk—a thought he never thought he would have—but Ser Erryk was gone. Never to be found.

Damn him. He should’ve taken me with him, wherever he went.

Aegon did try to escape. The very same day he was crowned, he snuck away only to find that all the secret passageways he was aware of were blocked shut. He tried to break them down with a torch, but they wouldn’t budge an inch.

During the night, he tried to escape using the main gates but they were closed off as well. The guards stationed were more vigilant too, telling him that no one was to leave. Not even the royal family themselves. 

When he tried to go the Dragonpit in the guise of checking in on Sunfyre, the guards forbade him as well. 

“The Dragonpit is out of bounds, Your Grace,” they said. “The dragonkeepers advised against going until the repairs are done.”

I am the prince, he used to say. It always got him what he wanted. Though now that he was on a higher station, a crown sitting upon his brow, it seemed to restrict his movements more than give him power and liberty. He couldn’t even say those four words to get his way. I am the ki—

He wanted to throw up.

Grandfather was also alerted of his attempts, of course. More guards had been stationed outside his bechamber since then. “The King isn’t well,” his grandfather had said to the guards. His voice sounded so concerned that it even took Aegon aback. “You must understand the terror that Rhaenys Targaryen caused during his coronation. He wants to go outside and see to the conditions of his people, but it isn’t safe for him yet.”

Aegon couldn’t even refute that. Not when Grandfather immediately shut the doors to the guards’ faces. When he turned to look at Aegon, his sharp eyes infuriated, Aegon could only look away and wallow in defeat.

He wasn’t the fucking King. He was a mere puppet pulled by strings. Was this the plan all along when they forced him to attend the meetings at court? When they made him sit at the council even though he was too hungover to register anything?

The Red Keep seemed to get smaller, and Aegon couldn’t find a way to navigate within it. Every turn he made, there were eyes watching him. It was way worse than when he was still a prince. Gilded cage, Helaena’s voice whispered in his ears.

It wasn’t a surprise that Aegon found himself buried in cups once again. At least, they didn’t deprive him of his alcohol—they even gave him special bottles of rum as well aside from the usual wines in the castle.

While his mother made her distaste of his drinking known, his grandfather didn’t mind it. Probably because it was easier to deal with him this way. It turned him more pliable—too easy to mold to whatever they wanted. 

Aegon spent most of his time in his room when he was not needed. The supply of drinks was abundant, his cup seemingly bottomless. If Aegon cut a line down his arm, he was certain alcohol would seep out and not blood.

Though there were still moments when saw the bottom of the flagon.

He sighed, sliding further down his seat. He pushed the flagon with a finger, and it almost tipped sideways before coming back again. The sound of the rattling glass sounded so far away. 

Positioning his finger near the bottom of the flagon, he gave it a push once more. Instead of tilting, the glassware slid forward, and he did this until it was on the edge of the table. One last nudge and the flagon tipped over, breaking into tiny pieces on the floor with a loud crash.

It no longer resembled a flagon. It was broken beyond repair.

His doors opened. Grandfather came in with the Kingsguards. He glanced at the pieces of broken glass on the floor but gave no comment to it. He only smiled at Aegon. “Your Grace, your council awaits you.”

In Aegon’s mind, he had thrown the flagon at his grandfather’s head instead.

+ + +

The council seemed different. Aegon couldn’t quite remember what exactly was the position of each person at the table, but he knew they were a man short. The old man who never failed to make him fall asleep was missing, and Aegon decided not to ask what happened to him.

Aegon spun the spherical stone in his hand. His mother was the one to put it in front of him when he forgot to do it. The stone had some weight to it, he couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if he were to throw it across the room.

“What do you think, Your Grace?” Mother asked, putting her hand on his to stop his fidgeting. She snatched the stone from his hand and placed it on the dish in front of him with a forced smile.

“Of what?” Aegon bit out through his clenched teeth.

“Of negotiating with the Baratheons with a marriage proposal,” she answered, unable to prevent the frustration in her tone.

When Aegon didn’t say anything, only staring at them, the Lannister twin—Ser Tyland, if his memory served him right—cleared his throat and shifted on his seat. “I’m certain that His Grace remembers our previous discussions about House Baratheon quite well. Borros’ undetermined loyalty remains a problem to our cause, and knowing his character, it is likely that he won’t easily accept our terms without a generous proposal. He has four daughters, and since His Grace is unwed—”

“Do you mean to marry me to one of Borros’ daughters, Ser Tyland?” Aegon said. He could feel one of his eyes twitch at the implication of it. They already gave him to the bloody throne, and now they also wanted to give him to a random woman to marry. “You’re giving him too much power so easily, don’t you think?”

“Well—”

“How about the other princes?” the man sitting on Aegon’s left said. “There’s still Prince Aemond and Prince Daeron.”

“Ah. There it is. That’s a great idea—Lord Jasper, was it?” Aegon asked, and the man nodded. Aegon gave them a smile, which he was certain looked empty with his dead eyes. “Daeron is still in Oldtown, so why don’t we offer Aemond instead?”

“Your Grace,” his mother started. He knew there was a string of protests ready to leave her but Aegon cut her off before she could voice them out.

“It’s more sensible, isn’t it, Lord Hand?” he said, turning to his grandfather. “Marrying me to the Baratheons would elevate their status instantly. I’m sure we wouldn't want to give more power to other houses, am I right?”

Unfortunately, Grandfather was unmoved by his provocation. He only gave a hum as he faced the other council members. “His Grace is right. It is most wise to offer Prince Aemond instead. Even better if he can reach agreeable terms with Lord Borros himself along with his dragon.”

“Aemond wouldn’t like this,” Mother mumbled.

So his brother’s wants were considered but not his? Aegon could only scoff at the hypocrisy of it. All his life, a duty that he never desired was forced upon him, and now in the midst of the discussion of a problem to their so-called cause, Aemond’s opinion suddenly mattered. 

“We all have a part to play in this,” Aegon said, voice seething with unbridled rage, his fists shaking on the table. “Aemond must now do his. It is the King’s orders.”

When he caught his grandfather’s eyes, there was only pride in them. Aegon dismissed the council after that and vomited all over the floor of the council chamber.

+ + +

Aegon stared at the ceiling, sleep evading him yet again no matter how many cups he had drank.

It was the Hand who broke the news to Aemond. Aegon didn’t witness the exchange but the whispers through the walls told him that his younger brother didn’t take it well. There was comfort in that, knowing that Aegon wasn’t the only one miserable in the schemes of their family.

When Aemond left, Vhagar let out a loud roar that shook the Red Keep. Still, Aegon couldn’t help but be envious of his brother being able to fly away with his dragon. He wished that Sunfyre didn’t reside in the Dragonpit as well. 

He didn’t know how many days had passed since then. The only thing he knew was that it was currently the evening. Somewhere in the castle, Helaena was playing with her insects while their mother was busy entertaining other noble ladies, all grasping for a sliver of power.

Turning in his bed, Aegon missed the warmth that used to occupy half of it. Now, the other side of the sheets were cold, smelling too much like the soap and oils they used to clean them with. All traces of his nephew were gone as though he never went there to begin with.

Aegon found himself wondering again what Luke would think. They had spent their days together talking about their unwanted duties, but here Aegon was with Luke’s mother’s birthright.

Luke must be cursing him, calling him a hypocrite. And the thing was, Aegon deserved it. He had many chances to run away before the coronation, life outside King’s Landing would have been better than this, but he was a coward.

Maybe he was not different from his brother, after all.

Getting up from his bed, Aegon went to the window and opened it. The night breeze swept in instantly, his tunic not enough to shield the cold from his skin. He felt the fine hair on his arm rise, and he resorted to hugging himself for warmth as he stared at the view of the city beyond the walls.

Across the capital, he could feel Sunfyre’s longing, the purrs of his poor friend who shared his desire of wanting to be free in the skies. It seemed so easy to do when he thought about it. He could just strut from the castle, navigate the streets of the city, and slip into the Dragonpit—repairs be damned.

Unfortunately, the reality was anything but. Even if he conjured so many dreams about flying away with his dragon, the Dragonpit remained far away from where he stood. The knights of the Kingsguard continued to be watchful of his movements, the other guards around the Red Keep still kept the Hand’s statement in their minds. 

It was ridiculous. Aegon might not have been listening to his lessons when he was growing up, but he knew that there were no kings who were like a prisoner instead of a ruler. He might be the first one in history. Really ridiculous.

He heaved a sigh, the chilly air rushing into his lungs. If only there was a secret passageway that magically appeared in his room, but alas, the only escape would be to jump from the windows. 

Aegon halted, his gaze darting down below. His bedchamber was located on the second level of the Red Keep, which meant that there was a considerable amount of height between the windows and the ground. Though it wasn’t an impossible height. Perhaps if there was hay to cushion his fall, Aegon would most likely survive.

Of course, it wasn’t that easy. Aegon couldn’t just ask the stableboys to put hay in front of his chamber window without a reason. That would definitely raise suspicion. Maybe if Aegon had a ladder. Or a rope.

Frantically looking around his room, Aegon could only find tapestries and bedsheets in his room. He supposed he didn’t need a rope that reached the ground—he only needed to climb down until the jump was safe enough.

He quickly grabbed the sheets and tore off anything that was made of cloth. As calm as he could be, he tied the ends of the fabrics, and by the time he finished mking his own makeshift rope, Aegon was sweating. 

Then he looked around his chamber once more and concluded that his bed was the heaviest thing in the room. He tied the rope onto the foot of the bed and tugged on it hard, putting as much weight as he could. It felt sturdy—Aegon felt hope bloom in his chest.

As expected, the rope didn’t reach the ground when he threw it over the window. Though that was fine. The end of the rope was a safe vantage point, and that was all he needed.

Taking a deep breath and shaking his clammy hands, Aegon willed himself in front of his window. He’d still be inside the walls of the Red Keep after this, but that was better than nothing. The next problem was for another time to think about. For now, he had to focus on this.

One last exhale, Aegon stepped forward. Before he could step on the sill, however, the doors to his room burst open.

He whipped around and saw Ser Criston. The Kingsguard didn’t fail to notice the makeshift rope tied to his bed and dangling down the window, but when his gaze went back to Aegon, he didn’t make a comment about it.

There was urgency and alarm on his face. One that seemed to be more important than the King trying to escape. Aegon’s curiosity got the better of him, and he asked the Lord Commander. “What is it, Ser Criston?”

Ser Criston bowed. “Prince Aemond has arrived, Your Grace.”

Aegon raised an eyebrow. He couldn’t see the importance of his brother’s arrival. They all knew that Aemond definitely got the favor of that Baratheon cunt, now what? “And you went to my room at this hour just to announce this?”

“No. There’s another urgent matter, Your Grace,” Ser Criston said. The Kingsguard had always been stoic, unafraid of anything, but this seemed to shake him. He shifted on his foot. “Prince Aemond is not alone.”

“What do you mean? He already brought that Baratheon girl he’s going to marry?”

“No, Your Grace,” Ser Criston answered. Their gazes met, and Aegon could only see trepidation in those dark eyes of his. “It’s Rhaenyra’s bastard.”

Aegon’s blood went colder than the wind that came. His fingers twitched, his throat suddenly drying—the world was spinning once again. He shook his head as though that would erase what the Kingsguard said in his mind.

Rhaenyra has many bastards. It couldn’t be…

But Aegon’s silence only urged Ser Criston to speak again, and the words that Aegon dreaded left his lips.

“He’s brought Lucerys with him, and the boy is unconscious.”