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If someone had told Jacaerys that by the end of the Dance of the Dragons - a bloody succession war which took half his family from him and left the remaining half scarred and haunted - that he would be marrying the uncle who murdered his little brother, he would have laughed himself silly.

And yet, that is precisely what he finds himself doing, as he covers Aemond in a cloak of red and black.

The Dance of the Dragons had been the most devastating conflict Jacaerys had ever seen and hopefully would ever see. He dreads to think of a war more bloody and brutal.

It all started when his other uncle had been crowned Aegon, Second of His Name, and his mother miscarried little Visenya. He and Luke departed from Dragonstone with sorrow in their hearts and determination to see their mother become Queen as was her right. Only one of them returned.

Jace had been in Winterfell when news reached him of Luke and Aemond. His little brother dead because his uncle could not let the past go, because he had decided his eye was worth more than Jace’s brother’s life.

He wept, he raged, he screamed himself hoarse and beat his fists bloody against the wall, but nothing, not his anger nor his sorrow nor even his pleas to the gods could bring Luke back to him.

He remembers thinking it was the worst moment of his life, that no matter what came next, nothing could ever match the hopelessness and utter agony he felt knowing he’d never see his little brother again.

Unfortunately, he was wrong.

While Jacaerys was treating with Lady Arryn and other Black supporters, Daemon had already dispatched Blood and Cheese in revenge for Luke’s death. The cold calculated murder of a child is not something Jace will ever be able to forgive his stepfather for. Not that it particularly matters since Daemon is long dead now.

After the brutal murder of little Jaehaerys, Daemon and Rhaenys met Aegon and Aemond in a fierce battle above Rook’s Rest. The result was the death of the largest dragon in the world. Vhagar fell, and Aegon and Sunfyre fled back to King’s Landing, though not before fatally wounding Meleys. The Red Queen hadn’t survived the confrontation. Her rider miraculously survived, though only barely.

By this point, Jace had returned to Dragonstone, his stepfather celebrating the success of felling Vhagar and the Kinslayer, and his grandfather threatening to abandon his mother’s cause due to the toll it had taken on his wife.

His mother, lost in grief, could do nothing, so it fell to Jacaerys to name Corlys Hand of the King to ensure the Velaryons stayed true. He then recruited dragonseeds to fly the remaining dragons and got lucky when Hugh Hammer claimed Vermithor, Ulf the White; Silverwing, Nettles; Sheepstealer and Addam of Hull; Seasmoke.

The latter was allegedly his half-brother. Jace thought this was as likely as him and his brothers being Laenor’s sons but he kept it to himself.

It was about this time that one of his grandfather’s naval captains came to Dragonstone with a certain silver haired captive.

Vhagar may have persished at Rook’s Rest but her rider hadn’t.

Aemond was brought to them in chains, kicking and screaming. He did not go down easy, did not yield his attempts at escape even as he tired.

Both Daemon and Rhaenyra wanted to execute Aemond the moment they laid eyes on him, but he and Corlys managed to convince them of the benefits of having him as a prisoner. Leverage against the Greens.

”You’re not seriously considering letting him live, are you?” Daemon asks, his eyes full of disbelief and rage. His mother is too angry to even say anything, staring at Jace and Corlys as though they were strangers.

“Of course not,” Jace scoffs. “Aemond will pay in due time, but for now, it serves our purposes better to keep him alive.” He would see Aemond burn for what he did even if it was the last thing he’d ever see.

That’s a funny thought to look back on now.

It is decided that Aegon and Viserys should be moved from Dragonstone, as well as Rhaena and Joffrey. The latter two went to the Vale, to stay with Jeyne Arryn, Tyraxes and a pink egg accompanying them.

Gerardys went with Aegon and Viserys that day they faced the Triarchy. His mother wanted someone she could trust with them. When the fighting began, Aegon had been able to flee back to Dragonstone on Stormcloud, the little dragon still clinging for life. Both rider and dragon are recovering now, slowly but surely.

But Viserys had no dragon, only an egg and Gerardys. It was Gerardys who had helped Viserys swim to Driftmark, a monumental feat, and Jace is still unsure how the two of them pulled it off. He is only glad that they did. Aemond is quietly moved to Driftmark some time after, per Jace’s orders.

To this day, Jacaerys is still not sure how he managed to survive the Battle of the Gullet, only that he did. He’s still trying to decide if that’s a good thing or a bad.

Other things happen. The Battle of the Honeywine. The Riverlands burning, Cole and the rest of the traitors marching through it. The Butcher’s Ball, Tumbletown. Joffrey returning after King’s Landing falls into Rhaenyra’s hands. Dragonstone falling into Aegon’s.

Helaena, almost killing herself, the only thing stopping her being the plaintive cries of “Mama” and Jaehaera looking at her with sad, purple eyes. The storming of the Dragonpit. Tyraxes dead, Dreamfyre, dead, Shyrkos, dead. Morghul, the only survivor, fleeing to Dragonstone.

Syrax, dead. Joffrey, dead.

Tumbletown, a second time. Ulf and Hugh, the traitors, dead. Silverwing and Vermithor, dead. Addam and Seasmoke, Daeron and Tessarion, Daemon and Caraxes, dead, dead, dead.

Rhaenyra, eaten by Sunfyre. Aegon the Elder, poisoned by his council.

Yet through it all, Jace and Vermax survive.

He’d been crowned in the Dragonpit as Jacaerys Targaryen, First of His Name. Thousands of lords, ladies and smallfolk cheer him on, as though half of them hadn’t wanted him dead for the entirety of the war. But the war was over and if Jace wanted the peace to last, he had to work for it.

It is no easy thing, to wear a crown.

———

When Jacaerys steps onto Driftmark for the first time since the end of the war, he is in no way prepared for the drastic turn his life is about to take.

Baela is with him, just as keen as he is to set eyes on Viserys again. He is who they are there for after all.

Well. Him and someone else.

Jacaerys crushes Viserys to his chest the moment he’s in his arms, relieved beyond words to know his brother is still alive and well. He wants to stay there, in that moment, for as long as he can.

But he is King now, and a king does not belong to himself. There are other duties he must attend to.

He leaves Viserys in Baela’s hands. The alpha woman clings to their little brother, who clings back.

Jace turns to address the steward at Driftmark. “Take me to him,” he commands. He does not need to specify who he means.

It is as they are walking to the dungeons that the steward starts talking. He’s an alpha, like Jacaerys, with an unremarkable face and dull eyes. He debriefs Jace on the war’s effects on Driftmark, the state of their food stores, their armoury, the prisoner he is leading him to now. Jace listens with half an ear, his mind preoccupied with the confrontation he is about to have. It isn’t until they’re walking down the stone steps that anything the steward says registers.

“I suppose you’ll be executing him once you get him back to King’s Landing? Shame. The men had their fun with him, and even I indulged every now and then. Still, nothing to be done about it, death is the kindest fate for filthy traitors.”

Jace blinks, wondering what on earth he could mean by that. He’s about to ask as much when they arrive to a certain cell that has an old friend standing outside of it.

Gerardys is talking frantically to a female servant in low tones, the servant nodding along and then taking off as soon as he tells her to. The relief of seeing him alive and well is almost enough to take away the shock of seeing his maseter robes stained with blood.

So much blood.

“Gerardys,” he breathes out, as the steward takes his leave. The maester’s eyes set on him and a relieved smile almost undoes all of the worry and grief on his withered face.

“My king,” the beta says and Jace cannot help but pull him into a hug. Gerardys allows it for an only a moment before he is pulling away to grip Jace’s shoulders. “It is good to see you again.”

“You too,” his smile dims when he catches sight of the blood again. “Gerardys, what is happening? Is someone hurt?”

Any of the calm the maester felt at seeing him is wiped from his face in an instant. Gerardys hurriedly starts speaking.

“It is the prince, Your Grace, the Prince Aemond that is, he is-“

Jace’s eyes narrow at the mention of his name. “Aemond? He did this?” His voice is a quiet fury. What had the Kinslayer done now? If he hurt anyone on Driftmark-

But Gerardys is shaking his head. “No, Your Grace, no, this is his blood, he is hurt, he is- That is to say-“

But whatever the beta was about to tell him is cut off by an agonised scream coming from the cell. Gerardys pales considerably and turns on heel to enter the room. Jacaerys follows.

Jace is not sure what he had expected to see upon entering Aemond’s cell but he was fairly certain it wasn’t this.

The first thing he notices is the overpowering smell of blood. The coppery tang is heavy in the air, the red stains visible all over the floor. He sees it on the two attendants in the room, their grey dresses painted carmine. The two servants - both female, one a beta and the other an omega - are gathered around something in the corner.

“My prince, please, let us help you-“ one of the women says, taking a single step forward.

A voice answers her, one Jacaerys recognises well, though he has never heard it so afraid.

“No! No, no, no, stay back!” He hears him before he sees him, desperate and sobbing.

Gerardys steps forward too. “My prince, you are going into-“

“No! I’m not! I can’t be, it’s too early, so I’m not, I’m not, I’m fucking NOT!” The last word is screamed so violently, one of the attendants takes a step back and Jacaerys gets a look at his uncle for the first time in two years.

Aemond is dressed in a white shift whose lower half is absolutely covered in blood. He is thinner than Jace can remember ever seeing him. His one violet eye is crazed and bloodshot, the other socket open and gaping, clearly infected. The thing that grabs his attention most though is the unmistakable bump beneath the stained gown.

He knew Aemond was an omega, of course. Everyone knew that, what with the Targaryen prince’s early presentation that fateful night on Driftmark all those years ago. He remembers thinking it strange, that his quiet yet fierce uncle had not presented as an alpha like everyone thought he would.

Still, even knowing Aemond’s designation, Jace forgot about it. He hadn’t seen the man in years before the petition in King’s Landing and when Jacaerys did see him again, he had not acted with the demureness all omegas were allegedly supposed to have.

But now, confronted with the clearly pregnant omega, he remembers with vivid clarity just what Aemond is.

All Jace can do for a moment is stare. He wants to know how this is possible. Well, he knows how but, was Aemond pregnant when they captured him? Has he been like this the entire time of his captivity?

But no, he couldn’t be. Jace was not an expert in these kinds of things, but he’s sure his uncle could not be more than five months along. Aemond has definitely been here longer than that. But then, that meant that the babe must have been conceived during the omega’s stay at Driftmark, and how could that be when-

“I suppose you’ll be executing him once you get him back to King’s Landing? Shame. The men had their fun with him, and even I indulged every now and then.”

Oh.

Oh gods.

It is only then that Jace smells the distressed pheromones in the air and the stench of sour milk.

Five months along. Far too soon for a successful labour. Which meant-

Oh sweet gods have mercy.

Jace is vaguely aware of the female servant from before coming back into the room, clean linens in hand. Two other servants follow carrying pails of clean water.

To prepare for the birth, Jace realises numbly. The scene is so painfully familiar, he has to swallow bile down his throat. All he can see is his mother, panting, sweating, bleeding, and him not able to do a godsdamn thing to help her.

“My prince, please, we must start the delivery,” Gerardys tries in vain to get Aemond to listen. The omega is mumbling to himself, eye wild like an animal.

“No.” He asserts. “No. If a single one of you come any closer, I’ll swear I’ll pull your eyes out of your skull with my bare fucking hands!”

Aemond screams then, clutching his stomach as more blood flows down his legs.

Jace isn’t sure what makes him step forward, walking until he is looming above the other man. He crouches down so he is eye level.

“Aemond,” he says. His uncle’s eye falls on him but he gives no sign of recognition.

“Aemond, you must let them help you. The baby is coming,” he tries to persuade him.

He shakes his head. “No, no, she can’t be. It’s too early.”

“She is. You must let us help.” He dares to reach a hand out and touch his uncle’s shoulder.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, Aemond sags against the wall. All the fight leaves him in an instant, his body completely pliant.

Jace isn’t exactly sure how but he finds himself leaning against the wall some time later, Aemond’s back pressed to his chest as the omega lies between his legs. He’s sweating, panting, bleeding as Gerardys coaxes him to push.

Aemond keens like a wounded animal and Jace gently dabs his forehead with the wetted cloth one of the maids put in his hand.

“Almost there, my prince,” the maester tells him.

The omega shakes his head. “N-no more, I c-can’t.”

“You can,” Jace finds his voice. “You must, Aemond. Push.”

He doesn’t know why he cares so much, doesn’t even know why he’s here. But he is, and he won’t see Aemond die today. Not because of this.

He continues to murmur words of encouragement and soon enough, the baby is slipping her way into the world.

She isn’t breathing.

Gerardys still tries to save her, despite how underdeveloped she is, but there is nothing to be done. She was dead before she even lived.

Aemond seems to regain some awareness then, once he pushes the afterbirth out. He blinks, as though waking from a great sleep and with tremendous effort, leans forward, arms shakily reaching out.

“Give her to me,” he demands.

Gerardys looks between Jace and the omega. What can he do but nod?

The babe is gently placed in Aemond’s arms. She is a girl but that’s about all that can be said for the tiny, fragile thing.

The omega does nothing at first, simply stares at the babe. Jace hears more than sees Gerardys and the attendants leaving the room. It is just him and Aemond now.

Aemond brings the little thing close to his face, eye solely focused on his daughter. And then, with trembling lips and hitching breaths, he places a kiss on her forehead.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against her skin. “I’m so, so sorry.” He slowly rocks back and forth, murmuring apologies to a girl that will never hear them.

And Jace can do nothing but watch.

———

After the babe is taken away to be prepared by the Silent Sisters and Aemond is resting in a warm room with an actual bed in it, Jace turns to Gerardys.

“Explain.” Is all he says. And the maester does, telling him of the true state of Driftmark over the war.

With their forces needed elsewhere, only a skeleton crew had remained at High Tide to guard Viserys and keep watch of Aemond. The guards left were not the best sort, as the usual guards were needed for the frontlines. After a few months, these men decidedly grew bored and wanted some entertainment while the war went on.

They could not hurt any of the servants or cooks, nor Gerardys or Viserys. All were either under the Queen’s protection or Lord Velaryon’s.

Aemond, though, was under neither. An unmated Valyrian beauty, and an omega to boot.

“I tried to stop them, Your Grace, to convince them of the consequences they would face for touching an omegan prince, but my words fell on deaf ears. And they would not let any message leave the island without first reading what was in that message, so I could not tell you or Her Grace through those means,” Gerardys tells him, sounding weary beyond belief.

Jace nods, letting the information sink in.

The maester continues.

“They, ah… Took turns with him, Your Grace. And after a few months of this, the Prince refused to eat anything, most likely in an attempt to starve himself. I was permitted to see him so that he did not die. In addition to severe malnutrition, Prince Aemond suffered from heavy bleeding and miscarriages. A few of his ribs were broken, and he had severe bruising and internal bleeding as well.”

“How?” He interrupts.

“I believe they beat him, Your Grace.”

Of fucking course.

There’s more he could ask, probably a lot more he should know, but all he says is, “Who?”

Gerardys provides him with a list of names, the steward included on it. He orders the men to be seized and beheads them one by one. There are not too many, and it would perhaps be wiser to wait until the replacements have arrived, but he will suffer them under his grandfather’s roof no longer.

He does it himself, a sword in hand. If there’s one thing he learned from his time in the North, it’s that a man should do his own killing if he wants to claim it’s justice.

Our way is the old way. If you would take a man’s life, you owe it to that man to look into his eyes and hear his final words. If you cannot bring yourself to do that, then perhaps the man does not deserve to die.

He looks into each of their eyes and does not flinch once.

———

It is late when Gerardys comes looking for him, two weeks into his stay at Driftmark. He and Baela have been setting the place to rights and spending time with Viserys, who seems enchanted by little Daenaera Velaryon, a granddaughter of the late Ser Vaemond.

He has temporarily taken over Corlys’s solar, so that he may have a place to write his messages and respond to ravens. The maester knocks politely.

“Enter.”

“Your Grace,” the man bows briefly. “I feel there is something I ought to to tell you concerning Prince Aemond.”

Jacaerys looks up from his papers. “Has he taken a turn for the worse?”

It’s the only thing he can think of. Why else would Gerardys think it important enough to bring to him?

But the beta shakes his head. “No, Your Grace, the prince is recovering well enough. I wanted to talk to you about something he told me while I was treating him before your arrival to Driftmark.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yes?”

“You see, in addition to his lack of nourishment, the prince had a fever that took many days to break. While I treated him, he often had dreams and would mumble many things. At one point, when the fever was at its worst, he mentioned,” Gerardys hesitates.

“Mentioned what?”

“Prince Lucerys, Your Grace.”

Jace sucks in a breath, the name hurting him worse than a punch to the face.

“Wh-“ he clears his throat, trying to keep his composure. “What?”

“He said many things, but most of them were about Storm’s End and… Your Grace, I believe Prince Lucerys’s death was the result of an accident, rather than the cold-blooded murder we thought it to be.”

For a moment, it’s all Jace can do to not burst into hysterical laughter.

An accident. The reason Jace would never see his brother again, the reason the war of ravens had ended and the Dance had started. A fucking accident.

The desire to scream increases tenfold until it ceases to exist all together. Now, all he has the energy to do is sigh.

“Thank you for telling me this, Gerardys,” is what he settles on eventually, dismissing the maester with a smile. It is only when he is alone once more that he lets his head fall into his hands.

He weeps.

———

Aemond recovers, slowly but surely, over the next few weeks. Jacaerys has him closely watched by Gerardys and a select few maids who the maester trusts. His sapphire eye is retrieved and returned to him.

Before that, though, the baby is put to rest.

Aemond insists on being present, despite how weak he is. They go to one of the grassy clearings in Driftmark, the waves gently lapping all around them. There is no stone dais on the island, not like there was for Visenya on Dragonstone, but they make do. He has the labourers build a small pyre on which the baby can be laid out.

When it comes time for the actual funeral, it is just him, Aemond and Vermax present. The body has already been blessed by the Silent Sisters and so Jace conducts the funeral rites as best he can. It is not traditional but he supposes none of this is really.

Aemond says nothing throughout, his eye blank and fixed upon the little pyre. When it is time, Jace turns to his dragon.

“Dracarys.”

It is only when the babe is nothing but ash that Aemond has any kind of reaction, and that is putting it mildly.

Aemond breaks.

He falls to his knees and screams, such a painful, mournful sound that Jace’s heart cannot help clenching in sympathy. The omega wails like a gutted pig, tears and blood flowing down his face.

Jacaerys stands beside him, looking down at the mess of a man by his feet. He doesn’t know what to do.

He doesn’t know what to do.

Aemond decides for him, as he starts speaking in gasping whispers. Jace doesn’t really hear anything, the words are too close together and warbled with sobs. Still, he makes inquisitive noises when he deems it appropriate.

Eventually, Aemond’s speech clears enough for him to say, “I- I had to beg them.”

His blood runs cold.

“What?”

“The- The guards. And the others. I had to, I kept-“ he sniffles, a wet noise that Jace feels in his throat, “I kept getting pregnant and they, they kept beating them out of me.” Aemond takes a shuddering breath. “There was, there was always blood between my thighs and, and things coming out of me. And I just couldn’t keep doing it.”

Jace’s heart breaks all over again.

“I, I had to beg them to let me keep her. So I didn’t have to bleed her out like all the others,” Aemond’s voice hitches again and the sobs start anew. “And I fucking did anyway.”

Jace isn’t sure what makes him fall to his knees beside Aemond, what compels him to wrap his arms around the omega and hold him close. He only knows that when he does, his uncle latches onto him like a lifeline. His grip is fierce and unyielding, like Jace is all that is tethering him to this world.

Maybe he is.

I did this. It was he who persuaded his mother to kill Aemond later, he who arranged for him to be sent to Driftmark. Jace is the reason Aemond is still alive. He is the reason he’s suffering all of this right now.

I did this. I did this. I did this.

The cold dreary day swiftly turns to night, and Jace and Aemond stay there, with the shadow of Vermax cast over them and the ashes of his daughter slowly taking flight.

———

“Thus, the best course of action for us next would be marriage. Specifically, three marriages,” Rhaenys tells him. They’re in King’s Landing, in the king’s solar. His solar.

Rhaenys had eventually recovered from the battle at Rook’s Rest. After Corlys fell ill and was confined to Driftmark for his health, Jace had named his grandmother Hand of the King. He had thought of giving the role to Cregan; he might have even done it, if he thought the alpha would accept. But Stark had not come South for such things. He and his men had marched for Rhaenyra and then for Jace. Now the work was done and it was time to go home.

Gerardys is named Grand Maester; Alyn Velaryon, Master of Ships. He names Tyland Lannister as Master of Whispers, in a show of good faith. The man is surprisingly capable in the role, despite what he suffered under the ministrations of his mother’s torturers. Lord Thaddeus Rowan becomes his Master of Laws, Lord Isembard Arryn, Master of Coin, and Ser Corwyn Corbray is installed in the Kingsguard and elected Lord Commander. All there was left to do was name a Hand.

Rhaenys had seemed the best option; she was politically astute and well versed in the ways of court. And, it had seemed only right to give the title to her.

“Marriages?” He asks, though he knows what marriages she’s talking about. How could he not?

Rhaenys nods. “It has been suggested that you take Helaena to wife, to show that the Blacks and the Greens are truly united. Wedding Aegon to Jaehaera would do much in this regard as well. And,” the alpha woman pauses, clearly choosing her words carefully. “Baela would marry Aemond.”

Jace nods slowly, lost in thought.

It makes sense, of course. After Jacaerys was crowned king, one of his first acts had been to name Baela Heir to Driftmark. At the time, he had still thought they would marry one another, that their second born would be her heir, just as their first born would be his.

But the betrothal had been dissolved. In the name of peace, it made more sense for he and Baela to marry one of the Greens. The only greens left were Alicent, Helaena and Jaehaera. And Aemond.

Alicent was not an option for marriage, and neither was Jaehaera, not for him and Baela. That only left Helaena and Aemond. Both omegas. Both unspeakably scarred.

He had nothing against Helaena, of course. She was one of the only truly innocent casualties in this wretched conflict. He wouldn’t wish the pain she went through on his worst enemy, let alone her.

Sweet, strange, sad Helaena, who would be his queen. Forced to live out the rest of her life in the very halls she’d seen her son murdered.

And what of Aemond? Condemned to live out his days in the same place he’d been mutilated, raped and violated. He knows Baela would be kind to the omega, or at least would not be cruel, but he also knows without a doubt it would not be a particularly happy marriage.

Why do you care so much? This is the same man who murdered your brother, he hears a voice in his head say, one that sounded suspiciously like Daemon.

And therein lies the problem; why did he care so much? Aemond should mean nothing to him. He was the one who took Lucerys from him, who started this damn war in earnest. He should be wishing every agony upon him. He had, when the news first reached him, cursing Aemond with the name of every god he knew.

I don’t want him to simply die. I want him to suffer.

He remembers thinking that, when the shock and initial grief had worn off, making way for rage and pain.

Looks like I got my wish, he almost chuckles aloud, so bitter, he can feel it in his teeth. Guilt is a difficult taste to stomach.

He hadn’t meant it, not truly. He wanted to see Aemond brought to justice but nothing more. Certainly not what actually happened to him.

Yet the gods seldom seemed to care for what mortals truly want, only what they wish.

Jace sighs deeply. Rhaenys smiles in sympathy.

“We must all do our duty, Your Grace. However difficult it may be.”

He would be kind to Helaena, a good husband. He would protect her and never let any harm come to her. Baela would do the same for Aemond, for decency’s sake if nothing else.

She will not be cruel to him, he tries to convince himself.

But Baela does not know Aemond, not as he knew him. She never knew the quiet, sweet boy he once was, the fierce warrior he became, the broken omega he is now. She did not know of what he went through in Driftmark, would never know if Jace had anything to say about.

She doesn’t know he had a daughter.

Of all the things, it is this thought that makes him speak up.

“Aegon and Jaehaera shall be betrothed, for now. Baela will be named a Velaryon and Helaena will be her Lady Consort.” Deep breath. “And I will marry Aemond.”

Rhaenys regards him carefully, searching his face intently. He lets her. Let her see that he means what he says.

After a few moments, Rhaenys nods.

The Small Council object to the match when they are told but Jacaerys remains firm and soon enough, a wedding is planned.

———

“You want to marry me?” Aemond says, after he tells the omega of his proposal. They are seated for afternoon tea, their beverages barely touched and the scones uneaten.

Want is a strong word. He doesn’t necessarily want to marry Aemond, but it feels right, in some strange way.

He doesn’t say that, though. “A marriage between us would show the realm the war is truly at an end. It would allow a time of peace to be ushered in, for our House to rebuild and heal,” he explains, trying to ignore the fact he’d said the same words to his Small Council.

Aemond just frowns. “But, you know I am,” he stumbles over his next words. “You know I’m no maiden. And I- What I did…” He trails off.

Jace surprises himself when he says, “We cannot change the past. But we can build a better future. I want to do that. Do you?”

Aemond stays silent for so long, Jace thinks he’s already been given his answer when the omega nods.

It is a tiny thing, barely noticeable, yet for some reason, it fills Jace with hope.

“I have one request,” Aemond tells him.

“Name it.” He replies, hoping it won’t be something that will give him and his Council grief.

In the end, it’s a very easy thing to grant and soon, Jace is having afternoon tea with his betrothed, who just so happens to be his one-eyed uncle.

Oh, how times change.

———

Jacaerys is sure he has never worn green in his entire life, yet he wears it for his wedding.

It is a fine outfit to be sure; an emerald green doublet, with black dragons that breathe black fire stitched on the front. Simple but well made black breeches are given to him as well, in addition to a new pair of finely made leather boots. Clothes fit for a king. Jacaerys looks in the mirror and sees a stranger staring back at him.

The ceremony is lavish and extravagant. Everyone in the realm seems determined to enjoy the festivities to the fullest, in some desperate bid to undo the last two years. Jace does not react with similar fervour. His heart is too heavy for that.

Still, he has to admit, the brides and bridegroom do look lovely. Baela wears a seafoam green dress with pale gold dragons on it, while Helaena is donned in a lilac gown with silver seahorses and hints of blue. It reminds him of Dreamfyre’s scales.

Aemond wears a finely made black kirtle that ends at his mid-shins, his legs covered by black leggings, and his feet tucked into black doe-skin slippers. The kirtle has red dragons all over it, the sleeves covering Aemond’s hands and hugging his arms tightly. It is the typical wedding garb for omegan men, not quite a dress but not a tunic either. His silver hair has been done up in an elegant braided hairstyle, a silver headpiece with rubies in it to complete the look. Helaena wears a similar ornament in her hair, only hers has sapphires on it.

Aemond and Helaena are escorted down through the masses by their mother, the City Watch parting the way. A break in tradition; it really ought to be one of the Hightower lords doing it, as the closest male relatives still left alive. But it was the only request Aemond made when Jace told him they were to be married and he did not have the heart to refuse it. Alicent herself wears pale blue, a colour he’s never seen her in before. It seems this is a day for many firsts.

When the three reach the area of the Dragonpit where the wedding will take place, they walk up the stage together. Alicent hesitates for a moment as her children take their places beside Baela and Jace. She looks ready to grab the both of them and Jaehaera and run very far from here.

Jace can empathise, though he really hopes she doesn’t make a scene.

Her eyes land on Aemond, and Jace watches as his husband-to-be subtly nods his head. Alicent breathes in deeply, smiles tightly and takes her place beside her granddaughter.

And then the ceremony begins.

He holds Aemond’s hands as the septon fastens them together before doing the same for Baela and Helaena. He says the words when he is told to.

“Father. Warrior. Smith. Mother. Maiden. Crone. Stranger. I am his and he is mine, from this day until the end of my days.”

When the High Septon bids for the newly wed couples to kiss, Jace leans forward and places a soft peck on Aemond’s lips. It’s nothing, barely even a touch, yet he can see the way the omega must restrain himself from flinching at even that.

Jacaerys smiles at his bridegroom, though it feels more like a grimace. Aemond stares back at him with a blank look in his eye, seemingly not even having the energy to be angry about this. It hurts more than rage would, seeing his smirking uncle so completely numb. He’s sure the only reason Aemond hasn’t found some way to kill himself is the precious little family remaining to him.

Alicent, Helaena, Jaehaera. They were all he had now. He was all they had too. Jace can still remember the way the three of them clung to his uncle when he first brought Aemond back to King’s Landing, how he clung back just as fiercely.

Over Aemond’s shoulder, he can see Baela and Helaena exchange a kiss. They look happy, or at least not quite as miserable. Perhaps that’s the best they can hope for.

The lords, ladies and smallfolk gathered in the Dragonpit break out in thunderous applause. Jaehaera stands with her grandmother, Aegon and Viserys beside them. Rhaena is there too, the beta looking on the proceedings with a sad smile. Rhaenys and Corlys look exhausted yet relieved. Jace feels much the same. After all, this wedding marks a true end to the war.

It is a bittersweet feeling.

———

The wedding feast has been going on for several hours when calls for the bedding start breaking out.

Jace can admit he has not been the best company.

He and Aemond have been sat side-by-side for the duration of the feast, speaking little. Aemond has been taking small bites of his food while Jace indulges in the selection of wines on offer. Anything to make this evening go quicker.

Helaena and Baela are having a better time of it, dancing together and looking far happier than Jace could pretend to be. He sees them dancing with Jaehaera at one point, along with Aegon and Viserys.

He’s thinking of sending his brothers to Driftmark when it comes time for Baela and Helaena to leave. Viserys seemed to enjoy his time there, having been protected from any knowledge of what was happening to Aemond by Gerardys. He’s fond of Daenaera Velaryon and Jace wonders at the possibility of a betrothal.

Aegon and Jaehaera likewise seem to get along well, and he wouldn’t wish to split them apart. Jaehaera will be going with Helaena, after all. It would hurt, not seeing his brothers everyday, but Baela would take good care of them, of that he is sure.

His Small Council will probably object, reasoning that until a child is born to him, Aegon is his heir and that if he must be sent anywhere, it should be to Dragonstone. But Jacaerys will never make his brother step back onto that island so long as he lives. For now, he’s placed it under Rhaena’s care.

He catches sight of Alicent talking to a Lord from the Vale, doing a much better job at looking like she wants to be there than him. She’ll be sent back to Oldtown at the end of the week. Jace hadn’t wanted to do such a thing, for Aemond’s sake more than anything else. He was already sending his sister and niece away, now his mother would leave too.

But his Small Council had insisted upon it and Jace could admit they had the right of it. It was unwise to keep the Dowager Queen in King’s Landing.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” He asks his husband at some point in the evening. Aemond has been looking increasingly ill as the night goes on, and Jace wonders if he’s come down with something. Surely his skin should not look so pale.

“About as much as you probably are, my King,” is the reply.

Jace cannot help but grimace, waving a hand. “Oh, please don’t call me that. Just Jace is fine. Or Jacaerys, though most people call me Jace.”

Aemond turns to face him, his violet eye regarding him properly. Jace looks back, unable to bring himself to look away. It’s as if there is something tethering them together in this moment, like not even the gods themselves could convince them to cease.

He sees a small smile play on his husband’s face. It’s utterly enchanting.

“As you wish. Jacaerys,” he says. He sounds playful and Jace can’t help but grin back. Aemond looks good with a smile on his face, the lines all relaxed and his eye lit up.

His thoughts are cut short when a young alpha rises to his feet and calls out to the crowd, “My lords! My ladies! Our good King and his Consort have been wedded! Is it not time that they’re bedded too?” His words garner cries of celebration.

Baela and Helaena had slipped out a while ago, to put the little ones to bed, and they had not returned. As a widow, Helaena was not expected to go through the bedding process again, out of respect for her deceased husband.

Aemond, though, was never wed and is a still maiden to the rest of the world. Jacaerys ensured that word of what happened on Driftmark did not leave the island. Hells, even the men he brought with him did not know of it, nor Baela or Viserys. That made his execution of the guards hard to explain but he told them he found proof of them spying for the Greens and planning on assassinating them during their stay.

Gerardys proved useful here again. Not only did he provide the ‘proof’ of the assassination plans, he also enlisted the help of those that did know what truly happened to Aemond in keeping it secret. Driftmark was big enough that it was easy to avoid Baela and Aemond ever interacting, and this was made even easier by the fact Baela avoided the omega’s presence like the plague.

No one knows. There are rumours, of course, but rumours have long since followed their family around. He thinks Alicent and Helaena know, that Aemond probably told them, but other than that, there is no one else. To the world, Aemond is as virginal as he was the day he was born.

And that meant the lords and ladies expected a bedding.

The cry is quickly picked up and soon enough, the room is filled with calls of “Bed them! Bed them! Bed them!”

He feels Aemond tense next to him, his pale skin completely losing all its colour. Across the room, he can just spot Alicent, looking as though she’s seen a ghost. She stares at her son mournfully, eyes wide with terror.

Jace puts an end to it.

“There will be no bedding.” His head feels light and airy but his voice comes out steady enough. Some of the noise quiets after his proclamation.

The young lord who stepped forward - a Florent, according to his coat of arms - laughs drunkenly. “But Your Grace, surely you would not deprive us of such entertainment!” There are some cheers following his slurred response.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Aemond flinch and his hand grasps his waist - looking for a dagger that isn’t there.

“I suppose you’ll be executing him once you get him back to King’s Landing? Shame. The men had their fun with him, and even I indulged every now and then.”

The alpha keeps talking but Jace hears none of it, his right hand picking up a butter knife and striking it into the table.

“I said, there will be no bedding,” he tells him, voice louder and eyes flashing dangerously.

The throne room goes deathly quiet. The scent of angry alpha fills the space and it takes Jace a moment to realise it’s him. The Florent Lord looks like he’s two seconds away from pissing his pants. Jace can feel eyes on him, breath bated, all waiting for him to-

A gentle hand settles on his left arm, the one not holding the knife. He turns to his side to see Aemond looking at him intently. The omega gently squeezes his wrist and shakes his head.

And Jace can breathe again.

He stiffly pulls the knife out of the table and forces himself to chuckle lightly.

“Apologies, my good lords and ladies. It seems the excitement of the day has overcome me. Please, continue with the feast. Eat, drink, be merry. My husband and I shall take our leave of you.”

He stands, holding a hand out to Aemond, who takes it. As they start walking out of the hall, he can see Rhaenys gesturing for the musicians to play again, which they do. He mentally thanks her as music floods the throne room and the liveliness picks up again.

Neither he nor Aemond say anything as they walk towards the King’s bedroom, two Kingsguard following them. He bids them to take their places outside his chambers as he and Aemond enter. The doors close behind them and it is just Jace and his husband.

Jacaerys makes a beeline towards the food table laid out for them, snagging the jug of wine and an empty glass. He pours himself a generous helping, downing it in three long pulls before filling the glass again.

He takes a single sip of this, turning to Aemond.

“Would you like some-“

The words die on his tongue as his eyes land on Aemond, who’s undoing the ties of his dress. It is quickly pulled over his head, revealing a thin black shift that leaves little to the imagination. The silver headpiece is missing from Aemond’s head, and Jace spots it on top of the cabinet of drawers next to him.

It is only when Aemond is reaching for the hem of his shift that Jace finds his voice again.

“Aemond, stop,” he does, looking at Jace with a very closed-off expression. “What are you doing?”

The omega swallows. “I thought you might want to get this over with quickly.”

Jace blinks. He hadn’t expected this. “You… You want to…?”

Aemond scowls and the expression is so painfully familiar, Jace’s heart clenches. He can’t remember the last time Aemond acted like Aemond.

“I don’t want to, it is my duty,” the scowl fades in an instant as the omega realises what he just said. He shakes his head. “No, no, I mean- Of course I want to, you are my husband, I-“

Jacaerys is drunk, he’s willing to admit that, but he’s not so drunk that he misses the slight tremor of Aemond’s hands as they fiddle with his shift and the way his eye darts to the doors, as though looking for a quick exit.

It strikes him in that moment how pretty he is. Well, perhaps pretty is not the right word for it.

He’s beautiful. It’s something Jace has always quietly known but he’s never let himself truly acknowledge it until now. The silver of his hair, the violet eye, his lithe frame. There were many in the realm who denounced Aemond as an improper omega, for his maimed face, thin hips and dedication to the sword, but just as many who lauded him as a true Valyrian beauty.

And Jace is not stupid nor blind, even he can see the obvious attractiveness of Aemond’s features. It stirs something in him, a flicker of interest. The alpha side of him whispers of claiming and taking, of fucking and loving.

But Jace is far too drunk for that and even if he wasn’t, it’s clear Aemond does not want him, does not want to be here, and is probably trying very hard not to freak out completely right now. That alone is enough to make him sober up a bit.

The omega is still talking, his words growing frantic the longer Jace doesn’t say anything until he shushes him. Aemond snaps his mouth shut, watching him warily. It hurts Jacaerys to think that his husband is afraid of him. It hurts even more to know he’s got good reason to be.

He clears his throat in attempt to make himself feel more grounded than he is. “We’re not doing that. Not tonight.” He’s proud of the way his voice doesn’t slur.

Aemond blinks at him, not relaxing one bit. “We have to.”

“No, we don’t.”

“Yes, we do. The lords and ladies of Westeros need proof of consummation for our marriage to be considered legitimate.”

“And they’ll get their proof, I’ll see to that.” He already has, actually, with a sheet stained with blood and spend he’s hidden under the bed to present to court tomorrow, but Aemond doesn’t need to know that.

His husband doesn’t stop staring at him, baffled. “You need an heir.”

“I have an heir. Two actually. They’re called Aegon and Viserys, perhaps you’ve met them.” Jace tries for a joke, smiling slightly.

Aemond does not laugh. “You need a child.” He enunciates, as if Jace is really that thick.

He sighs. “And I’ll have one. At some point, I’m sure. Just not tonight.”

The omega still regards him with suspicion. Jace takes a drink from his wine, wondering if he should perhaps stop. Well, he should but he won’t. His head is going to be killing him tomorrow but right now, it’s pleasantly dull.

When his eyes meet Aemond’s again, he finds him frowning at him, as if he’s expecting this to be some trick. For Jacaerys to walk over to where’s he’s standing, pull his clothes off and have his way with him.

Jace looks away instead. “I don’t want to scare you, Aemond.”

It’s the wrong thing to say, he knows that the moment it comes out of his mouth. Aemond angrily storms over to him, his trembling hands coming up to the ties of Jace’s doublet. He has to put his wine down to avoid spilling it all over himself. As Aemond’s shaky fingers fiddle with the laces, Jace’s own hands wrap around his husband’s wrists, halting his movements.

He feels Aemond still completely, his pulse wild and erratic under his fingertips. He sees the flicker of pure, unadulterated fear in his eye before it is stamped down fiercely. He’s so close now Jace can see every micro-expression he makes. It is oddly addictive.

“I am not scared,” the omega hisses, despite how he was obviously lying. “There’s nothing you can do to me that hasn’t been done before.”

That’s painful to hear.

“Nonetheless, I’m not doing anything.”

“I’m not weak. I can take it.” He insists.

“I’m sure you can,” Jace has his doubts about that, actually, but he won’t say that out loud. “That doesn’t mean you have to.”

It’s only then Jace realises he’s still holding onto Aemond. Beautiful, terrifying, scared Aemond. His husband. His to protect, even from himself.

He lets go of the other’s wrists and takes a step back.

“I will not come into your bed. Not until you want me there.” It is a promise as much as it is a statement.

Aemond is silent for a moment until he asks, “And what if I never want you there?”

Jace smiles sardonically, picking up his glass of wine. “And so, my Watch begins.”

———

Married life, as it turns out, is not that much different from regular life, at least in Jace’s experience.

The morning after the wedding, the sheet is presented to the court and the marriage is declared legitimate. He endures the back claps and ribbing with all the grace he can muster and then it is business as usual.

He catches Alicent’s eye at dinner that night, the Dowager Queen looking at him with something close to respect and gratitude. She did know, then, what happened at Driftmark, and evidently knew the marriage has not yet been consummated. Aemond must have told her, at some point in the day. He’s not surprised; they were always very close. He nods back to her as subtly as he can manage and then continues his meal.

Alicent leaves for Oldtown at the end of the week. He’s not there for her departure, though Aemond, Helaena and Jaehaera are. He knows nothing of what was said, only that his husband came back looking wrung out and tired.

Within a moon, Baela and Helaena are departing for Driftmark, Aegon, Viserys and Jaehaera in tow. His Small Council did kick up a fuss but Jace ignored them. He is King after all.

He crouches down to Aegon and Viserys, pulling them in close. “Now you be good for Baela and Helaena. No causing trouble.”

It’s said as a joke, yet Aegon nods very seriously and Viserys follows suit. He feels the weight of them leaving hit him fully but it’s for the best. King’s Landing was a viper’s pit at the best of times. Best to let them live away from all of that, if only for a little bit.

He turns to Baela next, who’s looking at him sadly. As they hug, she tells him, “Take care of yourself, Jacey. And watch yourself around that husband of yours.”

He huffs, good-naturedly. “I’ll be fine. Take care of them and yourself. And,” he hesitates but still says, “Helaena and Jaehaera.”

Baela softens, just a bit. “With my life.” She vows, just as Rhaena approaches to say her own goodbyes to her sister, Garmund Hightower just behind her. She’s leaving for Dragonstone today as well. He’s already said his goodbyes to her.

He steps back and watches Aemond say a few quiet words to his sister and niece. He can’t hear what they’re saying but it seems sweet, judging from the way mother and daughter cling to him. It’s clear they do not wish to part.

But time waits for no man, and sooner rather than later, he and Aemond watch as the ship carrying them sails away, Moondancer, Stormcloud and Morghul flying overhead. A different ship heads for Dragonstone, Morning safely on board.

And then it is just Jace and his husband.

His routine doesn’t change much. He still goes to council meetings, still listens to petitions, still rides Vermax when he can.

Aemond wears shirts with high collars to hide the lack of a mating bite. They have dinner together and sleep in separate chambers. Jace attends to his duties, Aemond attends to his. And life goes on.

Until his husband goes into heat one inconspicuous summer day.

———

Jace and Aemond are sequestered together in the omega’s chambers for the duration of the heat. He can’t object to it, not without bringing their marriage into question, and that is the last thing he wants right now. Such things are standard practice for married couples and he knows the lords will expect the same thing to be done when his rut hits. It will take some time before their cycles align.

The thought fills him with dread. Jace would like to believe he has a great amount of control over his impulses but his ruts are a different story. They always turn him into a lust-filled animal. He doesn’t know if he could control himself whilst being locked in a room with Aemond, his rut throwing all logic and coherency out of the window, replacing it with need for a mate. His mate.

His husband. His omega. His.

Hells, he’s having a hard enough time not crossing any lines right now. Aemond had seemed well enough at the start of his heat, if a little flushed. But since then, he’s steadily progressed to becoming more and more… Needy.

He shed his clothes within hours of his heat starting, lying on the bed and looking like the most delectable of feasts. Jace can see everything.

He took the patch off, and the sapphire. Well, ‘took’ is not the best word for it. He pushed the patch up and over his head, letting it fall to the floor before his fingers all but yanked the blue gem out of the wound. There was blood and pus, a startling amount of it considering the scar is years old. Jace cleaned the socket as best he knew how but who knows if it’s enough?

It takes every single shred of his willpower to not strip off his own clothes and join him. Aemond has been begging him to do just for that for hours now, squirming on the bed and rubbing his thighs together. The King Consort’s chambers are big, yet Aemond’s scent floods into every corner of it, making it so Jace cannot breathe without smelling his husband. Smoke and spiced apples, paired with the smell of an omega in heat. It is intoxicating.

Jace gulps down some wine, ignoring his hardening cock. He can hear Aemond whimpering, soft little pleas leaving his lips, and he wonders if this is one of the seven hells. It certainly feels like it.

Slick noises fill the air, and Jace does his best to ignore them, but it’s not easy. Especially when he can hear the breathy little moans Aemond makes, steadily growing into a crescendo until he hears, “Alpha please” as his husband comes.

His cock hardens fully and Jace resists the urge to bash his head against the wall.

It’s going to be a long week.

———

Jacaerys is pretty sure he’s slowly going insane.

Aemond’s heat fever has only gotten worse and his pleas for relief have gotten worse with it as the days pass. Jace is surrounded by temptation and he doesn’t know how long he can hold himself back until he succumbs.

Thankfully, not every second of the day is like this. There are times Aemond seems to come back to the world, covering himself in a blanket and refusing to look anywhere near Jace. The alpha feeds him when he can, persuading him to eat and drink at regular intervals to keep his strength up.

The fever is not always mindless begging. Sometimes, Aemond will be mumbling to himself. In his sleep, he occasionally thrashes about as though he’s in his death throes. It’s mostly inane things he talks about, things Jace never quite hears. It could be anything and therefore, is nothing.

And then he hears Luke’s name.

Even now, all this time later, it still hurts to hear someone talk of his little brother. It’s the same with Joffrey and his mother, even Daemon sometimes, and Aegon and Daeron. For all that they had been enemies at the end, there was a time they were friends. It hurts to think of them, of everything that might have been.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Aemond sobs on the bed, his body curled in on itself. Jace looks down at him, wondering what the hell he’s supposed to do now.

“Jace, please, please, I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry.”

Jace moves to his husband’s side. He’s got a blanket over him again, and his hair is a matted mess. Jacaerys doesn’t resist the urge to run his fingers through it, trying to comfort him.

“It was an accident,” the omega gasps, writhing on the bed with fever.

Jacaerys just sighs, stroking the other’s sweaty silver hair.

Aemond somehow becomes more frantic at his silence. “Jace, please, I swear to you, it was an accident, I didn’t- I never meant-“

“I know,” Jacaerys cuts him off.

He stills. “You… You know?”

Jace nods. “Gerardys told me.” The feel of his husband’s hair in his fingers is the only thing keeping him sane right now. “I don’t… I don’t blame you for it, Aemond. I don’t hate you for it either.”

He did, once. There was a time when he hated Aemond more than anything. But hatred is exhausting. It takes more than it gives and at some point, Jace got tired of feeding it.

“I just wanted his eye. Not his life. Not that. Never that.” It’s a whispered confession that makes Jace want to scream at the injustice of it all.

Instead, he says, “I know.”

They are quiet for a while, so long Jace half thinks Aemond has fallen asleep when the omega suddenly moves, reaching out to him.

“Alpha,” he says, “Alpha please.”

He shakes his head, gently moving Aemond back to the bed. “No, husband.”

“Why,” Aemond licks his lips, parched, so Jace brings a goblet of water over which is drunk greedily. Once he’s settled, he says, “Why will you not take me?”

He strokes his husband’s left cheek with his thumb. “You’re in heat, Aemond. You don’t know what you’re asking for, not really. It wouldn’t be right.”

“No- No, I do,” he insists. “I do know. Please. You’re so good to me. You’re so kind. Not like- Not like the others.”

Jacaerys stills, just a little. Aemond had not spoken of his time as a captive of Driftmark in detail. He wonders if he should be listening to this, if his husband would want him to know.

But the omega is still talking and Jace cannot bring himself to leave.

“You don’t hit me, or, or call me a whore. You don’t insult me, or pass me around for anyone to-“ tears are falling down his husband’s face. Jace shushes him gently. Aemond clings to him.

“Please,” he gasps. “Please, please, I need you. I need my alpha.”

For one split second, Jace’s resolve crumbles into nothing and he leans forward to kiss Aemond before he can stop himself.

His lips taste salty from tears and sweet from the apple pie he fed him earlier, and Jace wants to lick them both away, wants to truly taste his husband.

But Aemond’s hands are frantic on his tunic and when he pulls back, his eye is cloudy with need. Jacaerys cannot do this, no matter how much he might want to.

He allows himself another kiss to the omega’s forehead before he pulls away entirely.

“I will never treat you as they did, Aemond,” he says. “You’re my husband. Not my whore. And because you are my husband, I cannot do this. Not when I know you will regret it.”

He looks ready to argue, to bring Jace’s lips back to his but in the end, he complies. Jacaerys helps him settle back into bed, pulling the blanket over him again.

“Will you…” Aemond speaks as Jacaerys starts to stand. “Will you sit with me? Just until I fall asleep?”

“Of course.” He settles back in, watching Aemond get comfortable, and after a moment, resumes stroking his husband’s hair. Aemond sighs, like he is pleased, and within moments he is claimed by slumber, no doubt exhausted from his heat.

Jace stays until the sun rises and the birds start singing.

He did promise, after all.

———

They don’t talk about what happened during his husband’s heat when it is over, but Jace can tell things have changed between them. It’s in the way he catches Aemond looking at him over breakfast sometimes, not quite smiling but definitely softer. He can see it when they start taking walks around the gardens together and Aemond does not tense when he links his arm through his. It’s the way Aemond will sometimes hold his hand.

Slowly but surely, he sees Aemond come back to himself.

He starts training again, quickly becoming the terror of the training grounds once more. There are some on his Council who grumble at the omega’s ‘inappropriate’ behaviour but Jace merely points out that Visenya was a warrior as well as a queen; what else could they expect from the man who once rode the same dragon as her?

In addition to this, Aemond frequents the library, sometimes spending hours at a time getting lost in dusty scrolls and lengthy tomes. Though he doesn’t neglect his duties as King Consort. He meets with the ladies and omegan lords of court on a regular basis and though Jace knows he detests such gatherings, he still does it. Aemond seems to take some measure of comfort from having a duty to perform beyond lying on his back or stomach for Jace.

His husband even starts venturing into the city once some time has passed and King’s Landing has healed a bit. The people take to him like ducks to water, enchanted to be able to talk to a Targaryen who listens to them.

Aemond starts sitting in on Small Council meetings, providing valuable insight and addressing problems Jace had not even know existed.

“How do you know of all these things?” He asks the omega as they back to his chambers. Aemond had just informed them that some of the merchants in the city were using the confusion that remained after the war to continue charging extortionate prices the smallfolk couldn’t hope to match.

Aemond smirks slightly. “Because I talk to your people and let them tell me what they need. It is no good sitting in a room with lords who are only concerned with their own self-interest, addressing problems that concern them. That’s what my father did for most of his life. We need to be better than that.”

Jace hums, willing to concede the point.

His husband hesitates but still says, “Perhaps you’d like to join me some time, my lord.” His smile is coy and his words are teasing but genuine.

He only just manages to stifle his grin. “Perhaps I will.”

And he does, the next time Aemond visits the smallfolk. It becomes a regular occurrence, for the people to see their King and King Consort. He hears whispers of a second age of Jaehaerys and Alysanne, a new age of dragons.

The latter is not easy for his husband to hear. Aemond lost much in the war, as had Jace, but unlike Aemond, Jacaerys still had Vermax. His loyal beast, who had grown twice in size during the war. He’s noticed that Aemond is always asking about the dragon after he’s been flying with him. He chalked it up to curiosity at first; the omega had always been obsessed with dragons, be they long-lived beings like Vhagar once was or little hatchlings like Vermax in their youth.

Then, after an evening of Jacaerys taking about his last flight with Vermax and Aemond hanging onto his every word, it occurs to him that perhaps Aemond asks about Vermax so often because he misses having his own dragon to tend to.

Vhagar is an open wound in his heart, much like Aegon, Daeron, Jaehaerys and Maelor are, and most likely always will be. Jace knows this. The bond between a dragon and their rider goes beyond that of master and pet. A dragon is the other half of one’s soul. Jace can’t imagine losing Vermax, can’t imagine having to live his life without such a crucial part of himself.

He doesn’t suggest Aemond select a new dragon egg. He thinks his husband might actually try to kill him if he does. What he does do is invite Aemond out of the city and into the clearing of the Kingswood where Vermax has taken up residence while the Dragonpit is being restored.

The omega looks at Vermax with some trepidation yet it is mostly overtaken by sheer wonder. His dragon regards his husband curiously as well, as though sensing he is important to Jace.

He probably does sense it. Vermax has always been the wiser of the two of them.

“Why did you bring me here Jacaerys?” Aemond asks, turning to him.

The alpha shrugs, trying to act casual and probably failing miserably. “I’ve noticed you’ve been asking about him a lot and… Well… I thought you might want to go for a ride. Just the three of us.”

Aemond says nothing and Jace knows he should probably let him think about it, give him time, but the silence makes him uncharacteristically nervous and he can’t help but say, “I know it’s not quite the same but-“

“Nothing’s the same,” Aemond interrupts him, though the words aren’t as bitter as he thinks they should be. Mostly, they just sound tired.

He swallows. This is what he’d been worried about. Making Aemond angry or worse, upset. But he’s come this far and as they say, in for a copper, in for a dragon.

Literally, in this case.

Jace nods, stiltedly. “No,” he concedes. “But that doesn’t mean something new can’t be good. In its own way.”

His husband looks at him, his gaze piercing and then he softens, just a little. “I suppose.”

A few second pass and then Aemond is offering his hand to him. “Take me flying then, husband.”

Jacaerys grins as he takes his hand before doing just that.

———

News reaches them from Driftmark; Helaena is expecting. A few weeks later, they get a letter from Dragonstone telling them Rhaena is pregnant with Garmund Hightower’s child.

It’s a cause for celebration in the realm. The first children of Targaryen blood born since the end of the war, tangible proof that the Blacks and the Greens were truly one.

It’s a good thing, a great thing even. Yet it calls into question the state of Jace’s own marriage and his distinct lack of a child.

He and Aemond have been married for seven months now and have yet to lay together. As far as Jace is concerned, it will stay that way until Aemond is ready.

Rhaenys tries to talk to him about it one day.

“You must have an heir, Jace, and soon. The sooner, the better. The lords and ladies of Westeros will not be content until one is born to you and Aemond.” She tells him, as strict and unyielding as ever. There are times he admires that about her. This is not one of those times.

“I will have an heir-“ he tries to say.

Rhaenys cuts off. “When? A year from now? Two, three? Ten?” She sighs, clearly frustrated. “Have you laid with him since your wedding night?”

There’s not much he can say to that, given that he hadn’t even laid with him then.

Rhaenys takes his silence for the answer it is. “I know you wish to be respectful of him, Jacaerys, and believe me, that is an admirable quality to have. But we are talking about the safety, prosperity and future of the realm. Do you think Aegon’s supporters will remain content without a heir for long? Do you think the Hightowers will not protest to such a thing?”

“The Hightowers will do as they are told,” he says, though he is less certain about this.

The alpha woman pounces on this uncertainty. “For how long, Jacaerys? For how long?”

He sighs, defeated. He knows she’s right. Westeros may be at peace for now but who knows how long that will last? He needs an heir, a child made by him and Aemond. He had hoped to give the omega more time but it seems the gods had other plans.

“I will discuss it with my husband.”

Rhaenys doesn’t look entirely happy but she seems to recognise that that’s all he can give right now. She changes the subject to their quarterly report and Jace takes to it with gusto.

———

He does mean to discuss with Aemond, truly he does, but then his Small Council bring a number of pressing concerns to him which take up the majority of his time and before he realises it, months have passed.

Helaena and Rhaena have both given birth to their babes and Jace decides to invite them to King’s Landing for a celebration. Lord and ladies from all over Westeros flock to the Red Keep, including Alicent, who is delighted to see her children, her granddaughter and her new granddaughter as well.

Aemond is also happy about it, though he doesn’t say. For Jace, it’s nice to see his stepsisters again and his brothers. He even enjoys meeting little Laena Velaryon and Laenora Hightower. Baela gazes at Helaena and Laena with such pride and adoration that Jace can’t help but feel he made the right choice in wedding them.

Corlys is even well enough to attend, and he proudly shows off his great-granddaughters to an enchanted Rhaenys. He doesn’t miss the pointed look Rhaenys gives him as she holds Laenora for the first time, though he does ignore it.

He looks over to see Aemond holding Laena, Helaena next to him and talking quietly. They look happy. Peaceful. It’s nice.

His attention is taken away when something starts tugging on his trousers. Or rather, someone. He looks down to see Jaehaera of all people staring up at him. Her silver hair is straight, like her uncle’s, and for a split moment, Jace wonders if his own child will look like her.

He crouches down so he is eye level. “Hello Jaehaera,” he smiles at her. “Is something wrong?”

She shakes her head. “Grandpa Corlys says that Laena’s gonna marry your son with Uncle Aemond one day. Is he here? I wanna meet him.” She looks so earnest and innocent.

Jace feels like the wind’s been knocked out of him. It was true that it had been discussed his first-born son would marry Baela’s first-born daughter but he hadn’t exactly expected to be asked about it by a nine year old.

Jaehaera looks at him expectantly.

“Um, he’s not- I don’t- Your uncle and I don’t have a son yet, Jaehaera,” he manages to stutter out eventually. His face feels uncomfortably warm and he can only hope no one is listening in on this conversation. Thankfully, it seems everyone is too preoccupied with little Laena and Laenora.

Jaehaera frowns considerably, her small face all scrunched up sadly, and Jace can’t help but say, “But when I do have a son, you can meet him as soon as possible.”

She perks up instantly. “Really?”

“Really.”

She holds out her pinky. “Pinky promise?”

He takes it into his own, as gently as he can. “I pinky promise.”

That seems to satisfy the little girl and she runs off to go play with Daenaera Velaryon.

He heaves a sigh of relief as he rises, striding over to where Aegon and Viserys are playing with Laenora under Rhaena’s supervision. He doesn’t notice his husband’s eye upon him, watching him with a small smile on his face.

———

After the feast, Jace and Aemond had retired to his chambers as was their custom. They’d taken to having late night talks together before turning in for the night. Jace would escort Aemond back to his room every time.

Tonight, though, was different.

“Shall I take you back to your chambers, husband?” Jace asks when the evening comes to an end, a little playfully. He always asks, even though the answer is always yes.

Yet tonight, Aemond shakes his head. “I thought I might stay, actually.”

“Stay?”

Aemond rises from his seat with slow, purposeful steps. He clears the room to where Jace is standing. His hands settle on his shoulders, trailing up to his neck, to the ties of his doublet. Jacaerys shivers in spite of himself.

“Stay,” he says and there can be no mistaking what he means.

He doesn’t bother trying to change his mind or to resist. He simply asks, “Are you sure?”

Aemond answers by leading him to the bed.

They take their time, carefully undressing each other, exchanging kisses and tender caresses. He buries his head between the omega’s thighs at one point, as Aemond gasps and moans. The taste of him is addictive and Jace isn’t sure he can live another day without it.

And then he is slipping inside that warm, wet heat, Aemond looking up at him with such love and trust, his breath comes short. He stills, leaning down to breathe in Aemond’s smell, his nose in his scent gland.

“Jacaerys,” his husband says, voice barely more than a whisper. “Alpha, please.”

And then Jace is thrusting, still so gentle and careful but growing in intensity as he gets closer to his release, obsessed with the little whimpers Aemond makes beneath him.

It feels unlike anything he’s ever experienced when Jace knots his husband as they come. He leans his head down again to lick the omega’s scent gland before biting his claim into his skin. The moan Aemond lets out when he does is nothing short of blissful.

Later, when they are cleaned up and lying side by side, Jace is propped up on his elbow, his other hand playing with the omega’s silver hair. Aemond looks like he’s half asleep, breathing quietly with lidded eyes.

Jace is not far from sleep himself. He’s caught himself nodding off a few times, lulled by the gentle sounds his husband makes.

Suddenly, Aemond turns to him. “I want to spend your next rut with you,” he says in one breath. Before Jace can even begin to reply, he continues. “My heat should be hitting at about the same time. I want us to be together.”

Jace’s last rut had hit him while he was in the Vale, settling a dispute about Joffrey Arryn’s ascension as Lady Jeyne’s heir. He locked himself in his chambers for the duration of it, touching himself as he thought of nothing but Aemond.

Jace frowns. Ruts were intense and he had never spent his with anyone else before. He doesn’t know what he might do. “Aemond, I- I won’t be fully in control. I might hurt you.”

Aemond leans up, his violet eye peering intently, the sapphire on display. He kisses Jacaerys with all the reverence of a knight pledging himself to his king.

“You could never hurt me,” he whispers against his lips, and it’s sweeter than any ‘I love you.’

———

“A boy, Your Grace!” Gerardys exclaims, as the sound of crying fills the air.

Aemond sags against him in relief, as Jace leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. He can’t stop smiling, no matter how hard he tries.

“Did you hear that, my love? We have a son,” he whispers, elated beyond belief.

His omega simply hums sleepily. “That’s nice dear.”

Jace chuckles quietly, his heart feeling fit to burst. One of the attendants brings their baby over to them. Aemond wakes up a little, accepting the tiny little bundle into his arms.

He’s gorgeous, with pale skin and a fluff of silver hair. His cries taper off as Aemond shushes him, rocking gently until he quiets.

“We’ll take our leave of you, my king,” Gerardys says, gesturing for the attendants to depart from the room. They do so, one by one.

“Thank you, Gerardys,” he says, thinking not for the first time that he owes the maester an insurmountable debt.

The beta simply smiles. “Your Grace. Your Grace,” he nods at him and Aemond before leaving the room.

Jace looks back down at his son, who’s finally settled. He looks up at them with big eyes that are the most precious thing he’s ever seen. They’re brown, like his.

“He’s beautiful, Aemond,” he whispers.

Aemond hums. “He looks like you.”

Jacaerys laughs. “No, he doesn’t. Can you not see his hair?”

His husband huffs quietly. “So, he’s got my hair colour. So what? Everything else is you.”

He has a point. Jace can see the shape of his eyes, the curve of his chin, his little pug nose. His son looks so much like him, save for his hair.

“What will we call him?”

Aemond regards their son contemplatively, his eye narrowed in thought. Jacaerys could watch him forever and never get bored.

“Aerion,” he says after some time has passed.

“For the Conquerer’s father?”

The other nods and Jace smiles. It’s a good name, not overused. Traditional yet still something their son could make his own. Not like Aegon or Jaehaerys.

“Aerion it is.”

Someone knocks on the door and Jacaerys bids them to enter. It turns out to be Helaena and Jaehaera, Baela following behind them holding Laena in her arms. Aegon and Viserys file in after them.

Helaena smiles tentatively. “I hope we’re not interrupting.”

Jace shakes his head. “Not at all,” he says then he looks at Jaehaera. “I do believe I made you a promise. Would you like to meet your cousin, Princess?”

Jaehaera scrambles up onto the bed, peering down at Aerion’s little face.

“He’s so small,” she says, full of awe.

“You were that small once,” Aemond tells her, shifting ever so slightly so she can get a better look at Aerion.

“Was I? Really?” She gasps, turning to look at Helaena, whose smiles back at her.

“You were. Really.”

Another knock on the door reveals Alicent, looking disheveled and travel-worn but happy. Jace swears he can see her tear up when her eyes land on her son and daughter.

Aemond sucks in a breath. “Mother.”

Jace smiles to himself. He hadn’t told Aemond he invited his mother to King’s Landing for the birth, wanting it to be a surprise. Corlys had taken up residence in the Red Keep again, to be with his wife, and Baela and Helaena had been visiting with the children, alongside Rhaena and Garmund. It’s nice when a plan comes together.

Aerion had come a little earlier than expected but it seemed Alicent made it in time regardless.

She rushes over to them, Jaehaera giggling gleefully. There’s a smile on everyone’s face and the moment is made all the more sweet when Rhaena enters the room, Garmund and Laenora in tow. Rhaenys follows after, along with Corlys, who seems delighted to meet his first great-grandson. Targaryen, Velaryon, Hightower. United once more.

For good, this time. Or so he hopes.

———

Later, when it is just the three of them, Aemond turns to him quietly, still holding their son.

“Thank you,” he says softly.

Jace smiles, a little confused. “For what?”

The omega looks down at Aerion, freeing a hand to stroke his brow. “For not sending me back to Driftmark. For not forcing me to lay with you on our wedding night, or any time after. For- for being with me, at the funeral,” his voice wavers. He doesn’t have to ask what funeral he’s referring to. “For being so unfailingly kind.”

“You don’t have to thank me for that.”

“No. I do. You’re so good to me, Jace. So much better than I deserve.” Aemond sounds so sure of it, that everything in his life has been given to him through blind luck, that he isn’t worthy of any of it. As if he hasn’t suffered as much as the rest of them.

“I’m not. Really,” he adds at Aemond’s look of disbelief. “And even if I was, it doesn’t matter. You’re my husband. I want to treat you right, just like I want to do right by everyone I love.”

He doesn’t quite realise what he’s said until his husband turns to him sharply. “What?” He breathes out in disbelief. Jace’s eyes widened but he can’t take the words back. Not now. Not when they’re everything Jace has been thinking of for months.

He’s not quite sure when it happened, exactly. If it was during one of their late night talks, or when Jace was imagining the omega with their own child when he held Laena for the first time, or maybe when he left for the Vale that one time and all he could think about was who he left behind. It just felt so natural, so simple, as easy as falling asleep. One moment, he’s wide awake and the next, he’s slipping off into his dreams.

Only his dreams were all of Aemond, only Aemond, always Aemond, Aemond, Aemond, Aemond.

His husband is still looking at him, still so confused and incredulous, and Jace will not lie to him.

“I love you.” It’s like a heavy weight has been lifted off his shoulders with the confession, like he can breathe for the first time in years. “I love you.” He says it again, just because he can.

Aemond shakes his head. “How can you say that?”

“Because it’s true,” he replies, helplessly. Then he sighs. “It’s alright, Aemond. You don’t have to- to say it back, or to reciprocate my feelings-“

Aemond laughs, a little weakly, a little desperate. “Are you insane? I’ve been in love with you since you took me flying for the first time.”

Jace’s heart thumps in his chest. He loves him. He’s in love with him.

He leans forward and claims the other’s mouth. They’ve kissed many times before, yet it always feels like the first time whenever they do, a privilege Jace will never get used to, will never take for granted. Aemond matches it with the same kind of desperation, his tongue inside his mouth, and Jace groans, he wants more, he wants-

A small cry breaks them apart and they look down to see Aerion staring up at them, fussed. He looks at Aemond, who’s already looking at him and for a moment, there is naught but silence until they both break out into hysterics.

Once they’ve settled, both them and Aerion, their little one off to sleep once more, Jace cups his omega’s cheek in his hand.

“Mine,” is all he says, bringing their foreheads together. “Mine.”

Aemond smiles, small and soft and sweet, before placing a kiss to his lips. “Mine,” he whispers back. It’s a confession, it’s a declaration.

More than that, it’s a promise.

Jace is unashamed of the tears slipping down his face, as he looks at his husband and his son, the little family he made for himself.

“I’m gonna give you everything,” he tells him.

Aemond just smiles, a little misty-eyed himself. “Oh Jace,” he says. “You already have.”