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They were supposed to consummate the marriage.
That’s what the entire court was waiting for. Quite literally. The Red Keep had been buzzing with anticipation for weeks, and now that the dragons had been leashed, banners hung, and vows spoken through barely gritted teeth, it came down to one last formality: the bedding.
Lucerys lay stiffly in the massive carved bed, its canopies rustling with every nervous twitch of his limbs. Beside him, Aemond sat at the edge, as if the mattress might catch fire if he so much as reclined. He was still fully dressed, jerkin unlaced but otherwise intact, and his good eye was fixed on the far wall like he expected it to sprout wings and fly away.
Outside the door, faint murmurs, clinking goblets, and the occasional cackle echoed down the corridor. The court was waiting. Listening.
For something.
Preferably moaning.
Lucerys could feel the heat crawling up his neck. He glanced over at Aemond, who hadn’t moved a muscle in fifteen full minutes.
“This is madness,” Lucerys muttered, sitting up in the bed and wrapping the heavy blanket around his bare shoulders. He had at least made an effort. His hair was brushed until it shone like polished jet, his skin scrubbed until raw, and he’d been shoved into nightclothes that might have belonged to a saintly grandmother. “They’re out there like vultures, waiting for the bedding like it’s a damned tourney.”
Aemond didn’t blink. “Let them rot.”
“Oh, great, I married a corpse,” Lucerys hissed, flopping back against the pillows. “A handsome corpse. With suspiciously good posture.”
A muscle in Aemond’s jaw twitched, but he said nothing.
Lucerys sighed dramatically and rolled to his side to look at him. “Are you planning to speak at all tonight, or shall I resort to pantomime until someone hears a bed creak and decides we’ve done the deed?”
Nothing.
Lucerys narrowed his eyes. “You might at least knock the headboard. Moan a little. Do something.”
Still nothing. The stone wall was more responsive.
Finally, in a very small, very determined voice, Lucerys declared, “Very well! I shall take matters into my own hands.”
Aemond’s eye flicked toward him, sharp and silver. “What in the Seven Hells are you doing, nephew?”
Lucerys gave him a very serious look, then tossed off the blanket and crawled over the bed on all fours, utterly dramatic and slightly uncoordinated in his oversized nightshirt.
“Making love to my husband,” he said grandly.
Aemond stared at him like he had sprouted three heads. “Is that what you call this?”
“I’m improvising.” Lucerys reached out and tugged at the laces of Aemond’s jerkin. “Gods, what are you made of? Steel? Do you sleep standing up like a warhorse?”
Aemond caught his wrist. “Nephew.”
“What?” Lucerys blinked at him innocently. “Afraid I’ll bite, uncle?”
“No. I’m afraid you’ll dislocate my shoulder with all that tugging.”
They stared at each other. Then—just for a moment—Aemond’s mouth quirked. Barely. Like a smile had tried to rise and got strangled halfway.
Lucerys saw it. And like any good little brother raised in a house full of dangerous men, he pounced on the opening. “You almost smiled.”
“I did not.”
“You did. A little. Admit it.” He leaned in, so their noses were nearly touching. “You’re not immune to me.”
“You’re a fool.”
“And yet, here we are,” Lucerys said brightly, “Married.”
Aemond exhaled through his nose. “You maimed me.”
“That was years ago. Let it go.”
“You took out my eye.”
“And now I’m offering you my—” Lucerys looked down at himself, then back up, unsure how to word it. “—entire self as reparations. Fair trade, wouldn’t you say?”
Aemond finally reclined slightly, tilting his head back against the bedpost. He looked tired. “They only want to hear something. There’s no need to—”
“I want to,” Lucerys interrupted. Then, realizing how that sounded, floundered: “Not because I like you. I don’t. You’re the worst. I just… I prefer to do things properly.”
A pause. Then, dryly: “Of course. The infamous Velaryon thoroughness.”
Lucerys, cheeks pink but resolve steeled, grabbed his pillow and hit Aemond in the chest with it. “Oh, shut up.”
And then, without any real finesse but with impressive nerve, he swung a leg over Aemond’s lap.
Aemond blinked, clearly not expecting it. “Nephew—”
Lucerys grabbed his face, framed it between his palms, and kissed him.
It was not a good kiss. Their noses bumped. One of them was breathing too hard (Lucerys, probably), and Aemond was so startled he didn’t kiss back for a solid ten seconds.
But when he did—
Oh.
Oh.
It was like kissing a drawn sword. Hot, sharp, just a little dangerous. Lucerys made a noise of genuine surprise, and from somewhere outside came a distinctly drunken cheer.
“There we go!” Aegon slurred.
They froze.
Lucerys broke the kiss with a wheeze of laughter, forehead pressed against Aemond’s shoulder. “Someone just won a bet.”
Aemond made a strangled sound, halfway between a groan and a laugh. “We shall never hear the end of this.”
Lucerys leaned back and shrugged. “Well. May as well give them their gold’s worth.”
And with that, he kissed him again, this time slower, more curious, lips parting like a truce.
And Aemond made a small, startled noise at the back of his throat. And kissed him back.
Outside, the cheering resumed.
A chair was knocked over. Someone started a chant.
“Well done, Prince Aemond!” someone yelled.
Lucerys broke the kiss to laugh against Aemond’s chest. “You know, I think I might grow to enjoy being married to you.”
“Give it time,” Aemond murmured, voice low, hand threading slowly into Lucerys’s curls. “I can be very unpleasant.”
Lucerys looked up, eyes gleaming. “Oh, I know. But you kiss like a man who’s been thinking about it for a very long time.”
Aemond didn’t answer.
He didn’t need to.
Now Lucerys was straddling him, and the kiss had changed. No longer hesitant, no longer cautious. Aemond’s hand cradled the back of his head, long fingers curling in his curls as if he’d been dying to touch him. His other hand rested on Lucerys’s hip, firm and possessive, like it belonged there.
Lucerys shivered.
He gasped into the kiss as Aemond’s tongue swept across his lip, not a request, but a demand. Lucerys opened to him, groaning softly as Aemond took the invitation, hot and deep and furious.
When they finally parted for breath, Lucerys was breathless, dazed. “You’ve been waiting to do that.”
Aemond’s eye burned. “Don’t flatter yourself, nephew.”
“Too late,” Lucerys whispered, and reached down between them.
Aemond caught his wrist again but not to stop him. He guided him. Lucerys inhaled sharply as he felt the heat beneath Aemond’s layers.
“Oh.”
Outside, Aegon knocked on the wall. “Just a moan for confirmation, please!”
Lucerys growled, low and irritated, and reached over Aemond’s shoulder to grab a pillow—his pillow—and hurled it at the door.
There was a yelp, followed by retreating laughter.
Aemond was smirking. Smirking. “Nice aim.”
“I used to throw daggers at your name on the wall,” Lucerys muttered. “Built up muscle memory.”
Aemond hummed, and Lucerys felt the rumble of it beneath his palms. “Romantic.”
Lucerys sat back on his knees and dragged Aemond’s jerkin open at last, revealing pale skin marked with old scars and lean muscle. His eye patch was still on. He looked like a war god, and Lucerys felt something low and hot twist inside him.
“How many people do you think are out there?” Lucerys asked as he pushed the jerkin off Aemond’s shoulders.
“Let’s not think about it, please.”
Lucerys leaned in, kissed his collarbone. “Either way I’ll have to make this… memorable.”
He moved lower. Trailing kisses. Mouthing down his chest. When his tongue flicked over one of Aemond’s nipples, the older prince let out a sharp breath—more a grunt than a moan, but it was something.
Lucerys grinned against his skin. “Was that a moan, uncle?”
“Shut up.”
But Aemond was breathing harder now, chest rising beneath his mouth, his fingers clenching in the sheets as Lucerys kissed a path lower, biting lightly as he went.
Then Lucerys sat back again and tugged his own nightgown off. It fluttered to the floor like a peace flag.
Aemond’s gaze dragged over him. Heated. Hunger restrained by a thread.
“You’re staring, uncle.”
“I married you,” Aemond said, voice rough. “I’m allowed to stare.”
Lucerys flushed, but didn’t hide. Instead, he pushed down Aemond’s trousers next, freeing him fully, and then paused as Aemond sat up to tug Lucerys into his lap.
The air shifted.
It wasn’t funny anymore.
Their eyes locked.
Lucerys reached down to guide him, and Aemond’s hands went to his thighs, gripping hard as Lucerys sank down, inch by slow inch, onto him.
Lucerys moaned—long and low and real—and outside, the crowd erupted.
“Oh, gods,” Lucerys gasped, half-laughing, half-shaking. “I can’t believe this is happening.”
Aemond’s voice was ragged against his throat. “Then shut them out. Focus on me.”
Lucerys looked down. “I thought you didn’t want me.”
“I thought I didn’t,” Aemond growled, rocking up into him, making Lucerys gasp again. “But you won’t stop looking at me like that.”
“Like what?”
“Like you won.”
Lucerys smirked, breath hitching. “Didn’t I?”
And then they moved together. Not graceful—never graceful—but real, raw and imperfect and overwhelming. Lucerys rocked on top of him, thighs trembling as Aemond met every thrust, one hand slipping between them to stroke him, the other dragging sharp down his back.
Aemond kissed him again—desperate this time, all teeth and tongue—and Lucerys clung to him, letting the court, the marriage, the war, the past fall away.
For a moment, it was just heat and skin, panting breaths and the creak of the bed.
Lucerys came first, with a bitten cry into Aemond’s mouth.
Aemond followed with a deep groan, spilling inside him, arms tight around Lucerys’s waist like he never meant to let go.
They slumped together. Breathing. Sweating.
Somewhere outside, a woman’s voice muttered, “Well, that’ll do it.”
Lucerys snorted into Aemond’s hair. “Should we give them more to celebrate, uncle?”
Aemond, for once, chuckled. “They might name a holiday after you.”
Lucerys grinned sleepily. “Oh?”
“Saint Lucerys, patron of loud newlyweds.”
Lucerys kissed the corner of his mouth. “And you….my silent dragon. I liked your noises.”
Aemond murmured against his throat, voice hoarse and almost fond:
“You haven’t heard the loud ones yet.”
Lucerys tried to move. He really did.
But Aemond’s arms were still locked around him, firm and unrelenting, as if letting go might undo what had just happened. As if, without the heat of Lucerys’s skin pressed to his, the whole moment might vanish like smoke.
Lucerys nuzzled the crook of his shoulder. “You can let go, you know.”
“No.”
That made him snort, until Aemond shifted beneath him, still very much hardening again inside him.
Lucerys went still. “Wait—already?”
Aemond exhaled slowly, mouth brushing his ear. “You started this.”
“I was being silly!”
“You climbed on top of me and said you were making love to your husband.”
Lucerys grinned, flushed, utterly wrecked, and still somehow smug. “It worked, didn’t it?”
He rolled his hips just to be irritating. The sound Aemond made wasn’t a moan, not quite. More like a growl dragged from the deepest part of him. His fingers bruised into Lucerys’s thighs, holding him steady.
“You’re insufferable.”
“Mm,” Lucerys purred. “But you’re still inside me, aren’t you?”
Aemond’s patience cracked.
With a sudden twist of strength, he flipped them, pinning Lucerys to the mattress. The sheets twisted around them, pillows toppling off the bed, but neither cared. Lucerys stared up at him, breath caught in his throat, not from fear, not this time, but because Aemond was looking at him like he was prey and treasure all at once.
Lucerys licked his lips. “So… husband.”
“Don’t push me.”
“Why not?” Lucerys arched beneath him, teasing. “Afraid you’ll like it too much?”
Aemond snapped his hips forward, grinding deep, and Lucerys cried out, hands scrambling at the bedposts.
“I already do,” Aemond muttered, dragging Lucerys’s legs around his waist. “Gods help me.”
Their mouths met again, messier now, hungrier. Lucerys bit his lip when Aemond pulled back, only to moan when he was kissed again harder, deeper. Every thrust drove the breath from him, every word burned hotter than dragonfire.
“You were made for this, Lucerys” Aemond rasped, panting as he moved. “So tight—so fucking warm—”
Lucerys whined, eyes fluttering shut. “Aemond…”
“Say it again.”
“What?”
“My name.”
Lucerys’s hand cupped the back of Aemond’s neck, dragging him close. “Aemond. Aemond. Gods, please—”
That did it. Aemond bit at his neck, not to hurt, just to mark, and Lucerys writhed beneath him, breath hitching with every delicious, punishing thrust.
Lucerys was close again. Too close. Too fast.
He tried to hold back. He wanted to savor it—this unexpected madness, this shared heat with the man he’d grown up swearing to loathe—but Aemond knew him now. Knew where to touch, when to thrust, what words to say:
“Beautiful little pearl,” Aemond growled into his ear. “You like being mine?”
Lucerys keened.
“You like this marriage now?”
Lucerys didn’t answer.
So Aemond slowed. Stopped. Aemond hissed through his teeth, baring them. “Say it.”
Lucerys blinked at him, dazed and wrecked. “What—”
“Say it.”
Lucerys panted. “Say what?”
“That you’re mine.”
Lucerys stared up at him. And then—smirking, flushed, gasping—he whispered:
“I was always yours, Aemond.”
Aemond snapped.
He slammed into him again, harder, possessive, hungry. Lucerys cried out loud enough to send another ripple of cheers through the crowd outside, but he didn’t care. He was clawing at Aemond’s back now, legs wrapped tight around him as they raced together toward the edge.
It was fast, filthy, perfect.
Lucerys came first again, arching like a bow, gasping Aemond’s name over and over.
Aemond spilled into him moments later with a broken, desperate sound, burying himself deep and shaking with it.
They collapsed into a tangle of limbs and ruined linens. The room smelled of sex and sweat and something almost holy.
Lucerys laughed softly into Aemond’s chest. “We’re going to have to do that every night now, aren’t we?”
Aemond grunted, breath still ragged. “Several times a night, if you keep mouthing off.”
“I live to mouth off,” Lucerys said smugly. “Guess you’ll just have to keep fucking me until I learn manners, husband.”
Aemond rolled onto his back, dragging Lucerys with him. “Then we’re going to be here a very long time.”
Outside the door, someone groaned. “They’re still going?”
Aegon’s voice muttered, “My little brother’s a stallion! Who knew?”
Lucerys giggled uncontrollably and buried his face in Aemond’s neck.
Aemond huffed a soft laugh. “Next time, I’ll be the one throwing daggers.”
Lucerys kissed the underside of his jaw, sweet and dizzy and happy, and whispered:
“There’s going to be a next time, husband?”
He rolled them again, pulling Lucerys back onto his chest, still inside him, hand splayed against the small of his back.
“Try to rest, my little pearl,” he murmured, voice softer now. “We’ve all night yet.”
Lucerys closed his eyes, lips brushing the hollow of Aemond’s throat.
He’d started this whole thing as a joke. A dare. A performance. But he was no longer certain when the laughter had turned into something real.
And Gods help him, he didn’t want it to end.