Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen’s Coronation was being celebrated with great enthusiasm throughout the Realm.

The tournament held in her honor had broken a historic record for participation. The lists were filled with knights and warriors from all corners of the Seven Kingdoms.

It was even grander than the tournaments held in the times of King Jaehaerys and King Viserys.
Lucerys Strong cast a glance over the competitors who would take part in the final event of the tournament. Most were familiar faces.

The jousting event was one of the most important contests of the tournament. It was a vital opportunity for young warriors who wished to make a name for themselves.

The arena was overflowing with spectators who are waiting with hardly concealed excitement.

Lucerys counted a total of thirty-two competitors in the fighting area. Only knights who had passed the preliminary rounds were entitled to take part in this event.

Leaning forward, Lucerys carefully scanned the faces below one by one.
The first person he noticed was Benjicot Blackwood, the young Lord of House Blackwood; which is an important House of the Riverlands.

Benjicot had once served as squire to his late father, Harwin Strong. And so had spent much of his youth with him on Dragonstone and Harrenhal. His childhood friend, basically.

Though he is only sixteen years old, he bore his house’s sigil with pride—a shield adorned with eagles around a tree. Lucerys respected him very much. When Benji waved to him, he returned the gesture.

Next, he looked at the Tullys — Lords of the Riverlands, to whom the Blackwoods were also sworn.

The brothers Kermit and Oscar Tully were standing before the trout of their sigil. They too had been knighted at a very young age, only sixteen and eighteen now (both of them had been knighted a year ago, along with Benji).
Kermit was staring at the spiked mace in his hand.

Though only eighteen, Kermit was Lord of House Tully, and Oscar was the master-at-arms of the Tullys. “I suppose he’s something like the Queen’s Hand for Kermit,” Lucerys thought.

The next person to catch his attention was Prince Qoren Martell, who had come from the deserts of Dorne. Ever since the tournament’s participants had been announced throughout the Realm, Luke had been curious about the Dornish prince and wanted to see him.

And was he not a sight; the Prince, with his wheat-colored skin, reflected the typical traits of the Dornish people and was a very handsome man. The confidence with which he twirled his long spear was obvious even from among the spectators.

Lucerys joyfully nudged Rheana who is next to him and whispered at her ear: ''Isn't Qoren Martell so fucking hot?''
Rhaena giggled at this.
''Yes. Do you know if he is single? You know a lot about the gossips.''

Lucerys thought about pretending to deny his fondness for rumors but decided against it. Rhaena knew him too well for that to work.
“No, he isn’t married. But I’ve heard he has many bastards.”

Rhaena scrunched up her face in disappointment. “Ah, too bad. Well, at least I have my Corwyna.”
Lucerys sighed. Ever since their visit to the Vale with their dragons, his sister Rhaena had taken quite a liking to Corwyna Corbray, a Lady of one of the houses of the Vale — even though she still found Qoren Martell handsome.
And, well, anyone with eyes would. (That was not the point, but still.)

“Anyway,” he thought, focusing on the others. Right now he didn’t want to fall victim to Rhaena and listening to her launching into yet another round of praise about whatever charming quality Corwyna might have.

Sabitha Frey, atop her black stallion, looked completely unapproachable — a proud, alpha woman. Alysanne Blackwood was right beside Sabitha, the two women talking and laughing together.
Noticing Cregan Stark looking at Alysanne Blackwood, Lucerys remembered the rumors of something might have been going on between Cregan and Alysanne and smiled.

Of course Cregan Stark was there too. Cregan had been a close friend of his brother Jacaerys, and so Lucerys also had a passing acquaintance with him.
Like Qoren Martell, Cregan was a remarkably skilled warrior, and the bond between him and Jace was one of the truest friendships Lucerys had ever seen.

He couldn’t help thinking, When Jace becomes king, he’ll surely make Cregan his Hand. And honestly, he would deserve it. A realm with Cregan as Hand and Jace as King would no doubt continue the golden age which is about to begin under his mother’s rule.

Lucerys believed in his mother with all his heart. Though she had been Queen for only two or three months, her rule was already off to a strong start. Bright days lay ahead for the Realm.

His eyes caught the sigil with the largest number of knights beneath it, and he smiled with pride. It was his own house’s sigil: Targaryen (Technically, we was Strong, but he was the son of the Queen so, anyway).
The black banner bearing a three-headed red dragon — “Fire and Blood” — must have instilled fear in every other house of the Realm.

But Lucerys had always liked fire and blood. Like every other Targaryen. Fire was in his blood.

There were five Targaryen knights — and for a single house to field five out of the thirty-two competitors who had passed such a fair and rigorous selection was an impressive feat, even if they were the royal family.

When his grandfather Viserys had been king, no Targaryen besides Daemon had ever managed to gain a place in the tournaments. In the days of King Jaehaerys before that, however, Daemon and Viserys’s father Baelon, their uncle Aemon, and their mother Alyssa Targaryen had dominated the tournaments.

Lucerys had always liked history a little.

(And yes, those three had been siblings — meaning his stepfather Daemon and his grandfather Viserys had full siblings as their parents.
Even though he himself had grown up exposed to this culture, he still found it odd at times. But there was nothing to be done; the Targaryens were strange people.)

When he caught Baela’s eye in the arena, he smiled at his stepsister. Unlike Rhaena, Baela was an alpha — but although they were twins and looked almost identical, the two girls couldn’t have been more different in character.

Rhaena didn’t enjoy sword fighting and loved dresses. Baela loved sword fighting but didn’t much care for wearing dresses.
But both were cheerful, lively, and intelligent girls, and Luke was sure they would become very successful rulers one day.

Baela had been wishing for years to compete in the tournament, and Lucerys felt proud of her now that she had finally earned the right to take part.

The other Targaryen knights were also standing proudly, holding shields bearing their sigil: King Consort Daemon Targaryen, Prince Aemond Targaryen, Prince Daeron Targaryen, and his brother, the Crown Prince Jacaerys Strong — who had tied to his sword hilt the favor of his wife Helaena Targaryen. (Luke quickly corrected himself in his mind: Targaryen now, he thought.)

Lucerys waved at the Targaryen knights. Beside Daemon’s charismatic smirk and Jacaerys’s bright smile, Baela and Daeron cheerfully waved back at him.

Aemond, however, as always, just stared at Lucerys with that hard, unblinking gaze. Cold bastard.

So what if he’d taken his eye out when they were kids?! Was that really a good enough excuse to be this cold and indifferent? (When Aemond’s violet eye didn’t shift away, Luke, unnerved, took the thought back. Maybe the man had learned how to read minds or something??)

Rhaena nudged Lucerys, pulling him out of his thoughts. Her cheeks looked flushed, visible even against her darker skin.

Seeing Corwyna Corbray, he thought, Ah. Finally found her. He honestly couldn’t understand what Rhaena saw in that woman, but he wasn’t about to judge his sister.
As a member of the Targaryen family, he had absolutely no right to. Not at all.

Corwyna swept her gaze briefly over the crowd, and when her eyes found Rhaena she offered a greeting. Lucerys gave his sister a light pinch on the arm to keep her from embarrassing herself. When Rhaena turned to him angrily, he only grinned.

Lucerys suspected the alpha woman liked his sister back, but of course time would tell.
“Rhaena,” he said with a mischievous smile. “It’s still not too late to give Lady Corwyna your favor.”

Rhaena jabbed Lucerys rather harder this time. He made a show of wincing as if truly hurt. She fixed him with a sharp, warning stare, and this only broadened his grin. “But truly, it is not.”

Rhaena turned away as though weary of him, yet the ghost of a smile lingered on her lips. “Hah. Another time, perhaps.”

Just then Helaena came to them, and Lucerys inclined his head with a courteous smile.
“Welcome, Helaena.”

Helaena’s answering smile was distant, dreamy.
“Yes, Lucerys. Starlight and cinnamon. It must be like that so.”

Brother and sister exchanged a glance, their smiles tinged with unease. Like Daenys the Dreamer of old, Helaena was a dragon-seer, and her words were most often glimpses of what was yet to come.
Yet for all that, her utterances were so strange and riddling that even Lucerys, who loved her dearly, could not help but wish it would be better if he could understand what she means more.

This time Helaena’s smile had drifted to the Targaryen knights, and her lilac eyes shone as they rested on Jacaerys. In front of her, their twin children, Jaehaerys and Jaehaera, were equally eager, their excitement at seeing their father written plainly on their faces.
Luke still found it strange at times, that his brother was married and already a father of three.

“Starlight, the brightest. Cinnamon shall give it light.”
Lucerys did not fully grasp her meaning. Actually, he had no idea what she was talking about.

Well, only Jacaerys could truly interpret Helaena’s words. To everyone else, her prophetic murmurs were a mystery — and Luke was no exception.
So he just smiled nervously and turned his eyes to Rhaena.

Rhaena lifted little Jaehaera into her arms, and the girl giggled with delight. Though only four years old, Jaehaera carried herself with a gravity beyond her years, behaving as a child only in the presence of Jace, Helaena, and Rhaena.

Feigning indifference, Lucerys reached out and ruffled the hair of sweet Jaehaerys. With his silver hair and lilac eyes, he was the very image of his mother, Helaena — a delightful child.
Lucerys buried his face in the boy’s hair, inhaling the faint scent of milk, savoring the fleeting warmth of the kid.

Queen Rhaenyra approached them. Lucerys ran forward like a child and threw himself into his mother’s embrace. Of course, he had had to race against his brother Joffrey and his stepsister Rhaena to get there, though in the end, he had won.
Heheh.

His mother’s belly was swollen with pregnancy, yet her face shone with a bright smile. After scolding him gently to slow down, she kissed his brown curls tenderly.

“I want one too, Mother!” Joffrey protested.
“Me as well!” Rhaena added.

Before long, the Targaryen protocol audience place had become a scene for a warm moment.
With Jaehaerys, Jaehaera, and Luke's youngest siblings Aegon and Viserys joining in, the gathering had turned into one enormous, joyous heap of embraces.

Even Helaena, who rarely enjoyed physical contact, laughed quietly from her place (Luke could see her over his mother’s shoulder).
The other spectators and the competitors in the arena caught sight of the royal family entwined in their affectionate chaos, and peals of laughter and celebratory whistles spread throughout the place.

Queen Rhaenyra gave a smile that reminded everyone why she had been called the Delight of the Realm in her youth. The crowd roared in response, caught up in her radiant presence.

With that same smile, she sat with little Aegon and little Viserys in her lap. Viserys immediately wriggled free and began squabbling with Jaehaerys, while Jaehaera and Aegon looked at the chaotic pair with quiet judgment.

Lucerys bit his lip to keep from laughing at the children’s antics.
Then Joffrey’s laughter rang out, and the boy turned to Helaena with a question. “Helaena, where’s little Maelor?”

Helaena’s smile widened at the mention of her youngest. Her lilac eyes seemed to vanish entirely in amusement. “He’s asleep. Teething, you see, and I did not wish him to be irritable.”
Joffrey settled himself beside her in friendly fashion, and the two began to converse quietly.

Lucerys, wishing to join in but partly distracted, took one of the fruit bowls the servants had just brought, and returned to his mother.
“Where’s Big Aegon?” he asked, popping a honeyed pear into his mouth.

Rhaenyra sighed.
“You know, Aegon would have been here, but since I named him Lord of Whispers, he has been traveling Westeros with Sunfyre and only returned yesterday. He wished to rest today, and I allowed it. But do not worry — he will join the feast.”

Well... He wasn't worrying about him, but still.
Lucerys nodded in quiet agreement. If Aegon hadn't timed his travels to deliberately miss the tournament, then he would change is name.
And he was certain his mother knew it as well—but had chosen to turn a blind eye.

Aegon had never been his favorite family member (or anyone else's, for that matter), but with Rhaenyra’s new reign still fresh, it was more important than ever to show the Realm that the Targaryens had healed old wounds and now stood united as a family.
Everyone except Aegon was doing well in that regard, he had to admit. Even that cold piece of work, Aemond.

Now that he thought about the old wounds, he realized he did not miss Alicent at all. The former Queen, now the Dowager, had been sent to Oldtown when his mother ascended the throne.
More like an exile, to be honest.

She had not attended the tournament, even though her two sons were competing. Rhenyra even sent a special invitation for her.
Anyway.
Truth be told, it mattered very little to him whether she came or not.

The previous tournament had been five years ago: at the double wedding of Ceryse Hightower and Aegon the elder, and of Jacaerys and Helaena.

But this tournament seemed destined to surpass both, especially on the second day’s final event, when the stands were overflowing with those who had come specifically to witness it.
Lucerys could feel the crowd’s excitement thrumming through the arena. He was no different.

The tournament had been in progress for two days. The first day had been given over to archery and axe-throwing contests, along with the squire competitions — an important opportunity for the squires and those seeking knighthood.

Not to boast… (Or, okay. He would like to boast) but Lucerys had placed second in the archery contest that first day.
Heh.

Joffrey, meanwhile, had entered the squire tournament and has taken first place.
He was the squire of Jacaerys. And he personally knighted his younger brother.
Likely the youngest male omega ever to be made a knight.

Jace's proud smile and Joffrey trying to conceal the fact that he was crying...
It was a day Lucerys would never forget.

When Joffrey won, it had been the Northmen, along with House Targaryen, who had roared the loudest. Lucerys could still hear the echoes of that cheer.
And at the feast that followed the first day, the celebrations of Joffrey and his triumph… well, it was a crazy celebration.
Lucerys grinned, shifting his gaze back toward the arena.

Now, the second day would only have cavalry fight and pedestrian fight.
In former years these had been held as two separate contests, but for this tournament a new order had been decreed: first the joust on horseback, and if the match ended in a draw, the fight would continue on foot until one prevailed.

When the trumpets blared to announce the start, Lucerys watched the warriors leave the arena for the waiting zone. Only two warriors had stayed.
The royal herald’s voice rang out over the arena: “LADIES AND LORDS! BEFORE YOU STAND KERMIT TULLY AND JEYNE ARRYN!”

The crowd erupted, shouting their names. Kermit answered with a graceful wave, while Lady Jeyne fixed her raven-dark eyes squarely on Kermit Tully. Her stare as cool as ice.

Lucerys felt a rush of excitement. Kermit might have become a lord at only fourteen, but Jeyne Arryn had been a Lady of the Vale since she was three, raised to it from the cradle under her mother’s regency.
Just yesterday she had left everyone in awe by taking first place in the archery contest.
What would happen today, Lucerys wondered.

Kermit Tully sat tall upon his horse, far too composed for an eighteen-year-old lord — and, annoyingly, all the more handsome for it.

Lucerys glanced down at the jeweled clasp on his own sleeve. Well, he wasn’t a Qoren Martell, certainly… but he wasn’t half-bad either.

Lady Jeyne Arryn’s blue cloak billowed in the wind as she urged her horse forward. When her sword came flashing down, the stands fell utterly silent.
Lucerys realized only then that he had bitten his lip.

Kermit swayed aside at the last instant. His horse moved with him, loyal as an armored shadow. The man truly meant to prove himself — and he was succeeding.

Then came the counterstrike, which was swift and brutal. The spiked mace struck squarely against Jeyne’s breastplate, and she went crashing to the ground.
Lucerys flinched. That was a hard fall. Even as the dust still hung in the air, Kermit raised his arms in triumph, his smile aimed straight at the ladies in the stands — and especially the omegas.

“A courtship by combat. How sweet,” Lucerys murmured under his breath, sarcastically.
But when he saw Jeyne struggling for breath, his mocking smile faded, and a frown creased his brow.

He noticed that when Kermit went to help the fallen lady, the young lord wasn’t quite the “chivalrous gentleman” he tried so hard to appear.

The moment he pulled her to her feet, he turned and left without so much as a word of congratulation.
Luke frowned harder.

The following matches were just as thrilling—well, aside from the brief interlude where Jaehaerys tried (and failed) to shove a grape up Viserys’s nose, then burst into crazed laughter.
Other than that, Lucerys had watched every duel with keen attention.

Benjicot, Qoren, Oscar, and of course the great and charismatic Cregan all advanced to the second round.
Lucerys found himself thinking, The sons of the river still have their strength.
Especially Benjicot — his late father Harwin’s former squire — had performed magnificently.
Father would have been proud, Lucerys thought.

The horn sounded again, announcing the start of the next match, and the royal herald’s booming voice echoed across the stands:
“LADIES AND LORDS OF THE REALM—IN THE RING BEFORE YOU… oh! An unexpected pairing! LADY BAELA TARGARYEN AND PRINCE DAERON TARGARYEN!”

As the two Targaryens rode into the arena, their shields gleaming with the red three-headed dragon, the crowd erupted—cheers rolling like thunder through the stands.
Rhaena looked anxious. Lucerys gave his sister’s arm a reassuring squeeze, smiling to himself. Let the first battle of dragons begin, he thought.

Baela had lived and breathed the sword since childhood. She might not have been the most gifted warrior in Westeros, but her passion for the blade burned bright—and through sheer persistence she’d grown into a formidable fighter.

Lucerys knew that well enough. She’d practiced half her favorite sword strokes on him back in the training yard—whether he’d agreed to or not.
Thanks, Baela.

As for Daeron… he was the youngest Targaryen ever to be knighted. He’d taken his vows at the tender age of ten (Seven hells, Daeron), and when word of it reached from Oldtown to King’s Landing, the realm had all but exploded with astonishment.

He’d even broken Aemond’s record—a fact that gave Lucerys a petty but undeniable flicker of satisfaction. Heh. When Aemond had been knighted at twelve, he hadn’t shut up about it for months.
Gods, he’d been unbearable. Oh, to see his face when he first learned his precious record was gone…
Lucerys would have paid good coin for that.

Anyway.

Baela’s armor was as dark as a moonless night, with crimson dragon sigils glimmering like embers across her breastplate. She lifted her sword high, confidence radiating from her every movement. The crowd went wild.

Daeron, by contrast, simply smiled. A smile that was calm, composed and infuriatingly serene at the same time.
The sort of smile that made one want to smack and admire him in equal measure. Lucerys couldn’t even bring himself to be annoyed.

If he also were knighted at that age, he’d have been unbearable too.
And besides, Daeron wasn’t arrogant at all. The boy was all charm and sunshine.

Out of the corner of his eye, Lucerys caught sight of Joffrey—utterly transfixed by Daeron.
Well. This guy probably agrees that he is all CHARM and sunshine with a burning passion, hehe, he thought, stifling a grin.

When Joffrey had won the squires’ tournament, his short victory speech — thanking their stepfather Daemon, their brother Jace, and his “training partner” Daeron — had not escaped anyone’s notice.
Least of all Lucerys’s.

When Luke nudged him, Joffrey seemed to understand his elder brothers motives as the young omega rewarded him with a sharp punch to the ribs.
It knocked the breath out of him, but Luke only grinned through it. The match was about to start, after all.
He could always take his revenge later.

The horn sounded once more. The battle began.

The first clash ended in a draw. Their horses thundered toward one another, swords gleaming; Baela struck with near-perfect precision, but Daeron deflected the blow still. “A polite start,” Lucerys murmured. “Or maybe they’re still digesting last night’s dessert.” Joffrey smirked. “Can’t speak for Baela, but Daeron might’ve had one too many lemon cakes.”

This time, it was Rhaena who leaned in to tease him. The omega woman snickered. “Oh, so you don’t know about Baela, but you do know exactly how much Daeron ate? Hmmm. What might that say, other than it is a bit heartbreaking for Baela that you don't care about her, I wonder?”

Joffrey turned crimson. “Rhaena. Please. Stop. Mother’s. Right. There. She’ll. Hear. You.”

Rhaena and Lucerys burst out laughing. Across the stands, Rhaenyra and Helaena exchanged a look that clearly said, Why are they staring at us like that? And then, mercifully for Joffrey, the next round began. In the second round, Baela fought more agressively.

When her sword clashed against Daeron’s shield, the stands erupted. “BAELA! BAELA!” Lucerys clapped along, though he had to admit—Daeron’s calm was a bit unsettling.

The young man had his horse back under control in an instant, his poise utterly unshaken. It was as if he were calculating something, quietly certain of how this would end.

''So sure of yourself, huh, uncle?'' Luke thought.

“Good strike,” Daeron said, smiling. There was something in that smile. As if Daeron was an adult, congratulating a child.

Then came the third round. Daeron read Baela’s charge perfectly and, with a brilliant maneuver, sent her crashing from her saddle. For a heartbeat, the arena fell silent. Lucerys swallowed hard. That had been a rough fall. Even harder than Jeyne Arryn's, arguably.

Rhaena leaned forward, worry etched on her face, and the rest of them followed suit. Relief washed through the stands when Baela managed to straighten herself up, albeit with some effort.

Then the roar came—“DAERON! DAERON!” Even Rhaena was clapping now. Whether this clapping was for Baela’s resilience or Daeron’s skill, no one could say. Might be both. Probably both.

Baela accepted Daeron’s offered hand, letting him pull her up from the dirt. “Ugh,” she said with a breathless laugh, eyes gleaming. “Next time, I’ll win.” Daeron did not let her hand go, still smiling. “You always say that, dear cousin,” he said as he helped her to her feet. “A fine match, truly.”

Baela grinned and gave his shoulder a firm squeeze, genuine pride in her eyes.
"Good luck, cousin! Win for me too!" Baela called out, brushing dust from her armor.

Daeron smiled over his shoulder as his squire took the reins of his horse. "Have no doubt," he said brightly. And, with slight embarrassment, he added, "I will, big sister!"
Lucerys smiled to himself. Daeron had always had a special fondness for Baela and Rhaena—born of those long visits they’d made to Oldtown when he was younger. Especially Baela, who had spent hours teaching him swordplay and stance.

Rhaena was given swordfight lectures too, but she’d never been fond of swords. The more Luke thought about how different the twins were, the more it amazed him.
The next match came quickly—and left just as fast.

Aemond faced Ser Donnel Hill. The duel lasted… Very, very shortly. Won in a single move.
Before the crowd could even blink, Aemond lunged forward, slipped to Donnel’s right, and pressed his blade against the man’s neck in one swift, perfect motion. Then he stepped back and sheathed his sword, calm as ever.

For a long moment, the stands were silent. The applause came late—hesitant—because most people hadn’t even comprehended what had happened.
Lucerys realized he’d been holding his breath.

It was the easiest victory of the day. Perhaps of the entire tournament.
The chilling part was… Donnel Hill had been expected to place in the top five. Some had even whispered he might win it all.

Lucerys had even placed a bet on Donnel himself. (Not much. Just a little. Anyway—would be perfect if his mother never found out.)
Aemond Targaryen, Luke thought. What sort of monster are you?

It wasn’t an exaggeration.

Truly, it wasn’t. But as he thought it, a shiver ran down his spine—and yet, deep inside, something warm unfurled. Was he afraid because he admired him, or did he admire him because he was afraid? He couldn’t tell.

The murmur of the crowd was rising again, an excited hum that seemed to rattle the very air. Lucerys straightened in his seat without realizing it.
On Aemond’s face there was not the faintest flicker of pride, nor the shadow of arrogance. Only that same cold, crystalline calm.

Doesn’t this man ever smile when he wins? Luke thought. But then he imagined Aemond smiling after his victory—and, gods, that was somehow more frightening.
Daemon, of course, had advanced to the second round as well, having bested the proud Ser Samwell Tarly.

Yet even Samwell wasn’t as formidable as Donnel, and Daemon’s victory, though clean, hadn’t been nearly as swift or absolute.

Sure, Lucerys knew his stepfather was in the midst of a grand, glorious middle-age crisis—though he’d never admit it—but there was no denying it: Daemon Targaryen was still a magnificent warrior. Therefore... The only reason he seemed dim beside Aemond was because Aemond had simply been too good.
Damn.

When the second round ended, there was only one name on everyone’s lips: Aemond Targaryen.
Lucerys turned his head and saw Aemond standing before the crowd alongside the other second-round qualifiers. His eye was dark, his expression unreadable. He dipped his sword in a precise, formal salute.

Even if you made me lose some coin, I forgive you for fighting well. Fair enough, you’re still good, Lucerys thought, chuckling at his thoughts. When Rhaena and Joffrey looked at him like he was mad, he laughed even harder. Not being a normal person wasn’t his fault, after all. Heh.

Once the laughter faded, Lucerys scanned the arena again. He noticed a few faces he hadn’t in the first round: Maris Baratheon, one of Borros Baratheon’s daughters, and Daerea Velaryon, Vaemond Velaryon’s daughter.

He didn't know that Maris had even qualified. More impressively, she’d fought well enough in the first round to defeat Sabitha Frey. Very impressive.
Daerea… Lucerys silently hoped she might get a heavy injury or something.

He wasn't exactly fond of her, one might say.
Alysanne Blackwood had bested Ormund Hightower. The Hightower line had now been reduced to Gwayne and Garmund for the second round, since Lyonel Hightower had fallen to Qoren Martell.
Before he could examine the arena in more detail, the next round began.

Chapter Text

The next round was far more exciting. Horses neighed, weapons clashed, and the whole place trembled with noise. One by one, the knights either fell from their horses or were forced to yield. Some, however… hit the ground in ways that were anything but graceful.

When it came time for the match between Kermit Tully and Qoren Martell, Lucerys realized he was clutching his fruit plate so tightly that his knuckles had gone white.
“I’ve got a clear favorite between these two,” he muttered to himself.
And unfortunately, that favoritism had much less to do with fair wagers and much more to do with personal desires.

Well.

Qoren Martell... The Sun Spear of Dorne.
In Lucerys’s mind, there existed no fewer than five different metaphors comparing the man’s fighting style to poetry itself — though he chose not to voice any of them.
For now.

Qoren’s movements truly were aesthetic. He carried the agility of a desert warrior; his spear lashed out like a serpent, pushing Kermit to his limits again and again.
And each time, something inside Lucerys shouted, “Yes, now! He’s got him this time!” (Then he remembered that Kermit was the Lord of Tully -His future overlord too- and felt... mildly embarrassed.)

Just a little.

With a sharp maneuver, Kermit managed to corner Qoren — nearly unhorsing him — but the Dornishman recovered with a graceful spin that drew a collective gasp from the onlookers.
Lucerys must have let out something like an “Oh no…” because Rhaena glanced at him with an amused look.

Lucerys hastily tried to save face. “I meant to say… well done,” he muttered.
Rhaena and Joffrey didn’t seem very convinced.
How cruel of them.

Then came the moment.
With a sudden twist, Qoren drove his spear into Kermit’s shoulder, sending the young man crashing to the ground. His fall was anything but graceful. Absolutely not. Lucerys nearly choked on his grape as he swallowed it without ease.

Amid the applause of the crowd, Qoren twirled his spear above his head — utterly showy, but to be fair, Lucerys thought he deserved to put on a show after this fight.
He felt something warm rushed through his veins. (Juice? Adrenaline? Probably juice.)

Qoren gave a bow and began to leave the arena, though not before nodding respectfully to Kermit. Lucerys appreciated the gesture.
He was more gentlemanly than Kermit, at the very least.

He pretended not to be impressed. When he discreetly glanced at Joff and Rhaena, he nearly laughed out loud at the sight of Rhaena fanning herself furiously, as if trying to ward off Qoren’s desert heat.
Not that Joffrey and Lucerys were much better, really — but in their friendship, the one who showed the most was always the one who got teased the hardest. That was simply the rule.

“Ah, Qoren,” Lucerys said with a mocking dreamy voice. “May you never notice me… or maybe, someday, just turn to me and say something. Anything. Two words, perhaps — ‘Good fight,’ for instance. I could turn that into a whole novel.”

Joffrey rolled his eyes. “Oh, shut up. Stop drooling over my guy.”
Lucerys feigned shock. “What?! Daeron isn’t even my type, darling.”
Joffrey swore at him. Rhaena shook her head in disapproval — but Lucerys just grinned.
Rhaena was also grinning.

Next up was Maris Baratheon versus Sara Snow.

The clash between the two alpha women turned out to be one of the fiercest battles in the arena.
Maris, broad-shouldered and solid, embodied the strength of House Baratheon as she met Sara’s agility head-on. Sparks flew as their swords collided, drawing a collective gasp from the crowd.

Sara lunged at Maris’s left flank with lightning speed — but Maris was sturdy as a bear. At the very last moment, she raised her shield and deflected the blow, then planted her feet firmly and knocked Sara’s blade aside.
Lucerys narrowed his eyes, watching intently.

“Sara Snow isn’t fighting — she’s brawling! And Maris… she’s swinging that sword like it’s an axe! Art? Grace? Where are they?”

Joffrey rolled his eyes.
“Oh please, I’m sure they’re heartbroken they didn’t meet your refined standards, my dear stupid brother. They’re both amazing — I love the way they move. You know nothing, honestly.”

Lucerys reached over and tousled Joff’s curly hair, earning himself another colorful curse.
It wasn't that he actually appreciated any type of sword fighting as he simply cannot understand the details of it that much anyway. Or care to learn about it, for that regard.
But well.

In the second round of their fight, Sara spun her sword and charged again — but Maris advanced like a bull, cutting through her momentum. With a massive swing, she knocked Sara’s sword into the air, then pressed her blade against the other woman’s throat.
Lucerys’s eyes widened — but not entirely from fear.
Joffrey jumped to his feet and started clapping, soon joined by the rest of the spectators.
Lucerys, however, just kept staring — unblinking, unbreathing.
“Maybe a bit of violence isn’t so bad. Sometimes.”
He paused. Then smiled. But it was a sharp smile, the kind that pressed his teeth together just a little too tightly.

Smile of a person who likes violence.

When Sara stepped back and dropped to one knee, the arena erupted in applause. But Lucerys’s gaze stayed on Maris.
With her massive shield and unshakable stance, she simply stood there, unyielding.
“I would not want to anger that woman, like, ever” Lucerys murmured.
''Me too,'' Joffrey and Rhaena said almost in unision.

Lucerys was fascinated by the way Maris fought, too. Maybe even more than Qoren.

In the next match, Cregan Stark defeated Daerea Velaryon almost effortlessly.
It didn’t carry the deadly intensity of an Aemond vs. Donnel, but suprisingly, it was striking nonetheless.

When the two stepped into the arena, Lucerys had thought, “Maybe this one will actually be a competitive fight.”
But no. It wasn't competitive at all. Cregan fought as though he might start yawning any moment — bringing his sword down on Daerea’s shield once, twice, thrice… and that was it.

Even the referee seemed hesitant, as if wondering, “Should we call it?”
Then Daerea sank into her armor and dropped her sword — the politest surrender imaginable.
Lucerys shrugged.
“I mean, I’m not sad. I don’t think anyone is.”

Rhaena agreed with a snort. Though Daerea shared her Velaryon blood, she wasn’t particularly fond of her either.
The next duel carried a similar rhythm.

''You are smiling. Widely.''
Lucerys smiled even wider. ''Oh, am I?''

The next duel carried a similar rhythm.
In the ring stood Daemon and Oscar Tully.
Daemon was nearly three times Oscar’s age — but that had never been a disadvantage for King Consort Daemon Targaryen. Not once in his life.

He had probably been fighting before Lucerys was even born, and yet his sword, Dark Sister, still flowed in his grip like an extension of his arm. His feet slid across the stone floor as if he were dancing.

Oscar was young, strong and fast.
But Daemon?
Daemon was experience.
He was composure.
And every movement of his body seemed to say, “I didn’t come here to win — I came to put on a show.”

When the fight ended, blades clashed one final time, Oscar fell to the ground, and the crowd erupted — screaming, cheering, rising to their feet. Lucerys and Joffrey among them.
They had both shouted so loudly that Lucerys felt a hot ache bloom in his throat.
But it was worth it.

Daemon turned toward the spectators — but more than that, toward them, his family — and sent them that classic, almost legendary smile. It wasn’t a smile of victory, nor one of pride. At least, one could say these were his everyday life emotions so nothing extraordinary.

However, different than usual, It also seemed to say, “This is who I am. And I’m still here.”
All around, the crowd beamed as Rhaenyra’s proud, radiant cheer for her husband is heard, which drew their cheers even louder. Lucerys and Rhaena exchanged a look, then a smile.

“That is my stepfather…” Lucerys thought, a strange mix of pride and awe warming his chest.

Then he hesitated.
“If my father Harwin were here… he’d admit it too, wouldn’t he? How incredible Daemon is. He’d grumble, sure. Maybe say he’s too flashy. But in the end… he’d nod.”

Lucerys’s eyes drifted off for a moment.
He shouldn’t have thought about it. But he did.
That weight inside him — the one that still belonged to Harwin Strong — stirred for the briefest of moments.

Then Daemon raised his arm in another victorious salute, and Lucerys quickly shook the thoughts away.

Helaena sat nearby, a distant look upon her face, Jaehaerys and Viserys on her lap. She stroked their hair gently, murmuring something under her breath.

Helaena sat nearby, a distant look upon her face, Jaehaerys and Viserys on her lap. She stroked their hair gently, murmuring something under her breath.
When she called his name before the next duel began, Lucerys turned to face her.

Helaena wore a beautiful gown today, adorned with red and black motifs.
She looked far lovelier in it than she ever did in her green dresses.
Then again — what Targaryen didn’t look magnificent in Targaryen colors?

Even he, Jace, and Joff, who looked far more like Harwin Strong than any dragonlord, were said to wear those colors well.
Well, everything seemed to suit them somehow. Ha.

“Yes, Helaena?”
Helaena’s lilac eyes weren’t looking at him. In truth… they weren’t looking anywhere.
“Oh no,” Lucerys thought. “A prophecy is coming.”

“Silver will defeat silver. And another silver still. But Cinnamon… Cinnamon will never be defeated. He will always lose to him. Yet he will never lose him.”

Lucerys wanted to scream. Of course.
She’d truly given a prophecy — and it had to concern him. His mother used to call him and his brothers by Harwin her “Cinnamons,” and Helaena hadn’t been speaking to Joffrey, who stood on her other side.

All right. But… what was the silver? Or rather — who was it?
Everyone in House Targaryen had silver hair, save for Harwin’s sons.
Still, he decided to try his luck. “What do you mean, Aunt?”

Helaena smiled warmly. “You’ll see, dear brother.”
Lucerys frowned. That was odd. Helaena had never called him brother before.

If it was anyone else, he might’ve thought had gone mad — but this was Helaena. Surely the future had shown her something, something only a dragon dreamer could glimpse.

Whatever she had seen, though, Lucerys had a sinking feeling he would not like it one bit.

There was nothing to do but wait and see. He had learned long ago that Helaena’s visions often revealed their meanings in time — even to her.
So instead of dwelling on it, he forced himself to smile, to stay calm, and to focus on the tourney.

When the next match was announced, Rhaena began jabbing his arm wildly. Lucerys calmly pulled away from her elbow. Gods, the girl had the strength of a madwoman.

A moment later, he understood why his poor arm had been tortured.
He nearly rolled his eyes. Of course. It was her. Corwyna Corbray.

Corwyna had beaten Erric Rivers in the first round. Now she faced Benjicot Blackwood!
Benji had advanced after defeating Dalton Greyjoy — whom Lucerys never liked, by the way.

Now the question was: would the young but formidable “Bloody Ben” prevail, or the thirty-five-year-old Lady Corbray?

Lucerys had seen Corwyna fight once, but Benji… He watched Benji fight thousand times since childhood. He was sure Benji would win — how could he not?
After all, he had once served as his father's, Harwin Strong’s squire.

Lady Corbray was a widowed alpha with a young son, but that hadn’t stopped her from joining the lists. She was pure iron — a true steel-hearted lady.

Lucerys knew perfectly well whom Rhaena was cheering for. Honestly, anyone who knew her even slightly could guess.
He wished she’d try to hide it better — pretending ignorance was difficult when she stood right beside him.

The fight was… a massacre. Not literally, but close enough. Benji utterly dominated her.
Lucerys couldn’t help feeling sorry for Corwyna; losing like that — it was harsh.

As Corwyna charged, Benji struck cleanly, effortlessly, his sword slamming into her helm and sending her sprawling from her horse.
She had to be carried off the field.

Rhaena looked deeply worried. Even Benjicot, instead of basking in his victory, went to check if the woman was all right.
When Corwyna was taken away, the herald declared Benji the winner to a roar of applause.

Lucerys waved his hand to congratulate him. Benji chose to respond with a wink.
And that… sent the crowd into an uproar of teasing “Whoooaaa”.

Oh.
Wonderful.
He hadn’t expected that.
Now everyone was looking at him.

Who knew a simple wave could feel so mortifying? He quickly lowered his hand.
Benjicot’s smile faltered for just an instant, but he recovered smoothly, accepted more cheers, and left the arena.

Lucerys rubbed his temples with distaste — a headache was brewing.
He tried to ignore the knowing looks from Rhaena and Joffrey, but there was no escaping those two.

Even Rhaenyra’s brow was furrowed now as she gazed at the empty arena.
Perfeect.
Mother didn’t seem too pleased either.

“Why did that happen?” Joffrey asked, wide-eyed. Even the children sitting with Helaena and Rhaenyra were peering curiously in their direction.

“I wish I knew,” Lucerys muttered.
Rhaena forced a smile. “Never mind. We’ll make sense of it later — perhaps over a council meeting, in our chambers. For now, let’s just enjoy ourselves.”
Lucerys and Joffrey both nodded. “Yes, good idea.”
Then started the new fight.

When Aemond Targaryen stepped into the arena clad in his black and green armor, a strange chill spread through Lucerys’s chest.
Moments later, his opponent entered the field: Aemond was matched against his cousin, Gwayne Hightower.

Lucerys’s gaze was drawn to Aemond’s face. His single violet eye caught the cold light of the lists, its expression buried in an impenetrable silence.
The other eye, as always, was hidden beneath a black leather patch — though it did little to conceal the scar that ran deep beneath it.

The very scar Lucerys himself had given him, years ago.
Anyway.

Across from him, Gwayne Hightower stood tall and proud, his silver-inlaid armor gleaming like moonlight — every inch the dignified Hightower lord. But Lucerys couldn’t take his eyes off Aemond. It was as if no one else existed in that arena.

Helaena had begun to cheer for her brother, and soon the twins joined in, followed by little Viserys and Aegon, swept up in their excitement.
The sight drew laughter from the stands — from Rhaena, Joffrey, and many others.
Even Aemond, the unflinching and ever-cold Aemond, smiled faintly when little Jaehaera cried, “Uncle Aemond, win for me!”

Wow. So the psychopath Aemond could smile after all.
Lucerys remembered the boy who once smiled at him with the same softness.
But seeing that same smile now — carved onto the face of the hardened man in the arena — did it mean that boy still lived somewhere inside him?
Who knows.

After smiling at each of the children in turn, Aemond’s eye found Helaena’s, and he gave his elder sister a small nod. But just as he turned back to face the field, his single eye caught Lucerys’s.

The chill in Lucerys’s spine deepened.
What was that feeling?
He decided not to think about it.

When his eye left his eyes, the horn blew, and the duel began.
The horses surged forward.

Gwayne lowered his lance at the perfect angle — but Aemond swerved aside at the last moment, letting the blow cut through air. As he passed, his sword flashed, striking Gwayne’s shield and shattering it into splinters.
Wood fragments scattered through the air. Lucerys held his breath.

Aemond’s expression didn’t change. No triumph, no arrogance — only cold precision, as if this were nothing more than a necessity.
Lucerys pressed his trembling palms to his knees. Joffrey was babbling excitedly beside him about Aemond’s impeccable swordplay, but Lucerys felt as though his senses were underwater.

He was dulled.
Distant.

Second round.

Gwayne, seething, seized another lance, his veins bulging, his breath ragged. Aemond reined in his horse calmly, waiting — patient, predatory.
The charge began.

Gwayne spurred his horse forward, thundering across the field. Aemond did not move. Not until the very last heartbeat, when the tip of Gwayne’s lance was a hair’s breadth from his chest — then, with a swift pull, his black stallion turned aside, and before anyone could grasp what had happened, Aemond was behind his foe.

His sword came down with terrifying force, striking Gwayne’s helm.
“Whoa!” Joffrey shouted, leaping to his feet.

The air rang with the clash of metal. Gwayne was thrown from his saddle, crumpling to the ground.

Lucerys flinched and half-rose before Rhaena’s arm pressed gently against his shoulder, pushing him back down. “Calm, now” she whispered.
Lucerys tried to form a smirk, to make a joke — but no words came for the first time in a while.

His stomachache deepened.
He was terrified. Donnel Hill, Gwayne Hightower — these were no weak men. They were formidable knights.
And Aemond had defeated them as if they were nothing.

Lucerys’s hand drifted to his left eye.
If Aemond sought revenge… there would be no one in the realm to save him. Not even Daemon. Not even Rhaenyra.

Rhaena noticed his uneven breathing and tried to soothe him. Joffrey, too, rushed over, while Rhaenyra and Helaena exchanged worried glances and came closer.
“Winner — Prince Aemond Targaryen!” the herald declared.

The crowd erupted in cheers, but Lucerys only felt a thick and suffocating silence inside.

Aemond left the field without even glancing at the fallen Gwayne. His steps were steady, unhurried, regal in their restraint. Servants rushed to carry the dazed lord away.
That expression — that hollow calm, that poised stillness — tightened something in Lucerys’s chest.

Rhaenyra and Helaena reached him. “What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
Lucerys managed a smile for the two Targaryen woman. Or, at least, he hoped he did.
“I’m fine. Don’t worry. It's just… a bit of nausea, that’s all.”

The two women exchanged looks. They didn’t seem convinced. Rhaena slipped her arm around him, and Lucerys forced his smile to widen even though his head throbbed painfully.
“I’d better rest a bit,” he said.

His mother and Helaena nodded, settling him between them. Lucerys was grateful; he could distract himself with the children and not spoil Rhaena and Joffrey’s fun.
But Rhaena and Joffrey kept glancing at him. To a point that Lucerys thought they watched him more than they watched the fights.

Lucerys shifted uneasily. His stomach churned, and he found it hard to focus on the matches.

Jacaerys defeated Lyonel Hightower with ease.
Alysanne Blackwood lost to Maris Baratheon — not really a surprise.

And now the nausea had joined by a dull ache in his gut.
When little Jaehaera offered him a sweet cake, he gently refused. He thought he might actually throw up.

In the last match of the second round, Daeron bested Jon Mormont, leaving only eight contenders.
Daeron, Daemon, Aemond, and Jacaerys — the Targaryen knights had all advanced, none yet facing each other except for Baela and Daeron.
It seemed inevitable now that they were few people now.

Benjicot was the youngest of the remaining contestants. He gave Lucerys a courteous salute, to which Lucerys replied coolly.
Qoren Martell, Maris Baratheon, Cregan Stark — all had made it through to the third round.

Thankfully, there was a short break before it began.

Lucerys used the break to speak to Maester Munkun about his discomfort. The Maester frowned slightly, handed him a pinch of herbal leaves that he was carrying within, and told him to chew them — this ache is likely caused by stress, he said — offering a full examination after the tourney.
Lucerys obeyed and accepted the offer, and relief came almost immediately.
The leaves left a disgusting taste, but Lucerys was very thankful for their existence so he didn't complain.

When the third round began, the arena erupted with roaring cheers.

The next match was Cregan Stark versus Jacaerys Targaryen.
Lucerys shouted for his brother without shame. His stomach still ached, but he refused to let it show.

“Jacaerys! If you don’t win, I’ll feed you to Arrax so that you can turn into dragon shit!”
Jacaerys pretended not to know him.
Heh.
Joffrey, never one to be outdone, shouted, “Brother! Vermax is here too! Just to remind you!”

At that, the solemn Crown Prince grin vanished, replaced by their elder brother Jace’s familiar mischievous smirk. Laughter rippled through the stands — even stern Cregan Stark was smiling.

The children chimed in: Viserys and Aegon promised to give their brother their share of sweets if he won. The twins added theirs to the wager as well.
Rhaenyra, queenly and composed, gave her son a nod of blessing. Helaena wished her husband luck sweetly.

Jacaerys raised his lance high for his wife and children to see.
Two silken handkerchiefs fluttered from it — one embroidered with Dreamfyre, the other with little Jaehaera’s dragon, Morghul.
From his sword hung Helaena’s black-and-green favor.

Lucerys smiled at the sight — and so, it seemed, did everyone else.
Jacaerys shone in his red and black armor, the colors of House Targaryen. He urged his horse forward, brandishing his lance playfully toward the stands, bowing once more to his wife and children. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera’s shrill cheers widened Lucerys’s grin.

Cregan Stark, meanwhile, was a vision of winter in his gray armor — grim yet magnificent, like a snowstorm made flesh.
His grey horse matched his master’s calm, glacial composure.

Then came the chant of the Northerners:
“Cregan Stark came south to win, to win!”

It was so melodic and lively that even Jace and Cregan joined in, laughing and leading the audience to an uproar.

Despite his lingering pain, Lucerys couldn’t help but smile. His brother and Cregan were not just comrades, but true friends. No matter who won, both would leave this field as victors.

A new chant rose:
“The Dragon and the Wolf — a match of friendship!”

The crowd took it up, Targaryens and Northerners alike, until the arena rang with joy. For the first time, the tourney felt like a celebration rather than a contest.

Jacaerys twirled his lance and called out, smiling widely “Today I’ll defeat you, Stark!”
Cregan smirked faintly. “We shall see, Targaryen. We shall see.”
The horn sounded — the horses thundered forward.

Jace started fast, as always. He struck first, his lance hitting Cregan’s shield dead on. Applause burst from the stands.
But Cregan only staggered slightly — he did not fall.
'Come on Jace, come on elder brother' Lucerys prayed silently.

Cregan countered. His lance slammed into Jace’s chestplate, pushing the prince back. Jace, skillful as ever, kept his seat, but Lucerys could see the strain in his eyes.
“Already tiring yourself out, my prince?” Cregan taunted.
“Just warming up!” Jace shouted back, spurring his horse once more.

In the second pass, Jace moved more cautiously, circling, waiting for an opening. When it came, he struck a hard blow to Cregan’s shoulder.
But Cregan Stark was an immovable mountain.

Lucerys clenched his fists. Joffrey was shouting “Come on, Jace!” nearby, while Rhaena chewed her nail nervously. Even Rhaenyra and Helaena looked uneasy.

On the third pass, Cregan gathered his strength for the final strike. His lance hit Jace’s shield squarely — the Crown Prince lost his balance and tumbled to the ground.
Lucerys leapt to his feet, heart pounding.

But Cregan was already off his horse, offering his hand to help Jace up, a warm smile on his face.
“Let’s fight again in the northern snows, my prince,” he said.
Jace brushed dust from his armor and laughed. “Would you be more upset to lose there, Lord Stark?”

Cregan grinned. “I can’t say as that won’t happen. But still — the gates of Winterfell will always be open to you and your kin.”
Jacaerys smiled in return. “Thank you. And you, my friend, will always be a honorable and mighty lord wherever the dragon sigil rules.”

The two knights left the field shoulder to shoulder as the crowd cheered them both.
Lucerys drew a deep breath. Jace had lost — yes. But he had fought with honor.
And as his younger brother, Lucerys felt pride swell in his heart once more.

In the stands, Rhaenyra and Helaena smiled proudly, while old Lord Rickon Stark nodded in quiet approval of his son’s victory.
Lucerys felt a proud expression forming in his face.

Chapter Text

For the spectators, the third round had begun splendidly.
Cregan versus Jacaerys? A duel between two friends, two of the realm’s most significant men?
Truly, it was a fight people would be talking about for days.

Naturally, everyone was still caught in the spell of that fight, so no one was expecting the next pairing:
Aemond Targaryen versus Daeron Targaryen.

Lucerys frowned the moment their names were announced by the announcer. Aemond and Daeron? Really?

The stands buzzed with whispers of excitement and disbelief.
No one had imagined they’d see two Targaryen princes fight one another. At least not right after Cregan and Jace.
And yet, it was happening.

Lucerys felt his almost-fading nausea and stomach pain starting again bit by bit. His frown deepened.

Aemond and Daeron were both Targaryen princes, both alpha and were brothers born of the same mother and father.
He had often watched them train together (secretly, but that was not an important detail) and had always noticed that Daeron usually lost.
Would today be any different?

Daeron stepped into the arena first, clad in armor similar to his brother’s but with more green than black.
His face had an expression that was a blend of excitement and determination.

Aemond followed, but it seemed his attitude had changed completely. The cold, unreadable expression he’d worn during his previous fights was gone.
Now, he looked at his younger brother with a cool sort of respect.

And... pride? Yeah, he did seem proud. Wow.

Lucerys couldn’t help thinking, “Anyone this monster respects must be a monster himself.”
He knew Daeron could fight like a demon and he proved that again in his previous matches. But seeing the brothers facing each other like this was too thrilling for words.
Were these matchups in 3rd round planned on purpose?!

Joffrey nearly chewed the spoon in his mouth. His cinnamon-violet eyes were locked on the arena. 'Or rather, on Daeron' Lucerys thought, trying to hide his snickering.
His brother still denied it but Luke thought it was obvious: Joff had a crush on Daeron.
And Luke was pretty sure his feeling wasn’t one-sided.

Rhaena, sitting beside Joffrey, nudged him with a grin.
Niceee.

Since Lucerys was trapped between his mother and aunt he couldn't tease his younger brother but thankfully Rhaena was doing the teasing on both of their behalf it seemed.
After all, what were siblings for if not to annoy each other?

Aemond extended a hand toward Daeron.
“Younger brother,” he said in an almost warm-ish tone, “may the best one win. I wish you good luck.”
Daeron’s face brightened. He grasped Aemond’s hand firmly. “Yes! Good luck to you too, elder brother.”

“My brothers!” Helaena’s delighted voice rang out from the stands.
Both men looked up to find their elder sister smiling radiantly. Lucerys, Rhaenyra, and the children smiled too.

It seemed, there was something contagious about Helaena’s sweet smile.

“I wish you both good fortune! But the winner will get extra honey blackberry tarts!”

Lucerys felt his mouth water.
Helaena’s honey-blackberry tarts were legendary — people would kill for one. (Including himself, hehe)

Aemond and Daeron exchanged glances.
Their faces had suddenly gone serious — dead serious. Apparently, they were both on that “would kill for a tart” list.

The crowd roared with laughter, and soon Helaena herself became the subject of cheerful praise.

Daeron and Aemond frowned, being the brothers of the Crown Princess.
Lucerys smiled, wondering how Jacaerys would react if he heard all this. His elder brother was, after all, ten times more of a jealous man than Helaena’s brothers combined.

The horn rang.

The two brothers spurred their horses forward.
Daeron struck first, swinging his sword deftly against Aemond’s shield. The hit landed solidly — yet Aemond didn’t even flinch. He merely tilted his head slightly, offering no counterattack. He was waiting paitently.

Lucerys held his breath.

In the second round, Aemond suddenly attacked.
He guided his horse with elegant precision, sweeping past his brother, and swung his sword down upon Daeron’s shoulder. The blow rattled the younger prince’s shield, unbalancing him for a moment.

But Daeron was not a man who would easily give up. He steadied his horse, gritted his teeth, and attacked again.

This time, Aemond moved like a predator. He struck at Daeron’s knee guard, the clang of steel echoing sharply through the air. With a speed of lightning came the second blow, aimed at his head.

Daeron dodged it but it was very, very close to his face.

The crowd gasped.

Watching Aemond fight in a beautifully and terrifyingly, he felt admiration for the man’s skill and an unresolvable fear.

Fear of what he is capable of doing to him.

In the final round, Daeron tried one last desperate move — but Aemond swung his long sword, deflecting Daeron's with a single, powerful motion.

Then, he swung again at his shoulder, catching his brother in surprise, causing him to fell from his horse.

The arena fell silent.

Aemond approached his fallen younger brother.
In his previous matches, he had never looked back at his defeated opponents, even though he defeated them in a lot harsher way.

Therefore, many thought Aemond would do the same thing. Even if his opponent was his brother.

But he didn't.
He extended his hand to Daeron.

Daeron looked up, smiled, and took it. With Aemond’s help, he rose to his feet.
“Good fight, elder brother,” he said between breaths.
Aemond had a kind expression. He put his brothers arm on his shoulder, supporting him and guiding him toward the exit.

“You did well. A few more years, and you’ll start winning tournaments. I'm sure of it”

Daeron’s bright smile stayed on his face until the brothers disappeared into the tunnels below.

Lucerys couldn’t help thinking, “Aemond Targaryen... that smiling boy is still in there. Not the monster.”

After this, he felt surprised at his own thought. Even more so, for having a strong feeling that he indeed is right.

The children were shouting with joy. Lucerys scooped little Jaehaerys into his lap — the boy’s silver curls and violet eyes gleamed in the sun.

He was such a cute kid.

He kissed the child’s head, and the boy giggled happily.

Joffrey, a few seats away, was sulking again while Rhaena whispered something in his ear.
From the way Joffrey's ears going red and Rhaena grinning like a fox, Lucerys guessed it was something about Daeron.

(He was holding his ears, by the way. Trying to hide them. But, unfortunately for him, Rhaena and him knew Joffrey a bit too good for that)

''Anyway, once this tournament ends, I’m going to tease him to death,” he thought, chuckling darkly.

But before the audience had even recovered from the Targaryen brothers’ touching display, the announcer's voice rang out again:
“Daemon Targaryen versus Qoren Martell!”

Lucerys’ eyes widened. Even the children went silent.
Because Daemon Targaryen… was Daemon Targaryen.

King Consort. Living legend. Rider of Caraxes. Wielder of Dark Sister.
Lucerys’ beloved stepfather — the man who had became his second father after his father's, Harwin Strong's, passing.

When Daemon entered the arena, the air itself seemed to grow heavy.
His black-and-red dragon armor gleamed under the sun.

With his helm adorned with dragon wings, his crimson cloak behind him, and the faint ring of Dark Sister in its scabbard he seemed like a very image of a Valyrian war god.

A smile curved his lips — but it wasn’t a kind one.
It was the smile of a hunter certain his prey couldn’t escape.
How many men had wet themselves at that same smile?

Across from him stood Prince Qoren Martell — Dorne’s deadliest spear master, clad in bronze armor etched with golden suns, his long spear gleaming like firelight.
He looked every inch the child of sun and sand — proud, strong, ready.

But Lucerys saw the hesitation in his eyes.
The man who’d fought like poetry in motion only hours ago — his confidence was gone.
And not just he — the entire crowd sensed it.

Lucerys sat back down, his stomach pain nearly forgotten.
Joffrey leaned in and whispered, “If Qoren ran right now, no one would blame him.”
Lucerys snorted softly. Fair enough.

Then, from the royal box, Rhaenyra’s voice rang out — uncharacteristically loud and spirited — beginning a chant that spread through the stands like wildfire.
Soon, the entire Targaryen section, and then the rest of the spectators, were roaring Daemon’s name.

Daemon gave them a charismatic grin — this one warm, fatherly, almost gentle.
Then, just before the horn sounded, his gaze shifted to his opponent. Even while mounting his horse, he never looked away. When he urged the brown mare forward, it was as though the very wind obeyed him.

The first strike came like thunder — his sword crashed against Qoren’s shield with such force that the bronze shoulder plate cracked.
Lucerys gasped for air.

This wasn’t just another match.
This was Daemon Targaryen showing the world who he was.

Qoren steadied himself and countered, his spear grazing Daemon’s leg armor — but Daemon turned smoothly, deflecting it like a leaf in the wind.

In the second round, he spun his horse in a breathtaking maneuver, swooped in, and struck again — this time sending Qoren’s shield flying from his hand.
The stands erupted.

Lucerys noticed Rhaena covering her mouth in shock. He felt her hand clutch his; Helaena had shut her eyes tight, while little Viserys and Jaehaera screamed with excitement.

In the third round, Martell lunged — and for a heartbeat, everyone thought he’d won.
But Daemon leaned back in the saddle, the spear whistled past his chest — and he caught it midair.
When Qoren tried to press in, Daemon twisted his wrist, wrenched the spear free, and in one dazzling motion, shattered the Dornish prince’s helmet.

Qoren toppled from his horse.

Daemon had not killed him — only defeated him.
Effortlessly. Fatally graceful.

Lucerys felt as though he were watching a dragon in human form.
Perhaps this was how non-Targaryens felt when facing one of their kind.

Daemon dismounted. He didn’t even draw his blade again.
He walked to Qoren, extended his hand, and with icy composure said, “You fought well.”
Qoren bowed his head. Words failed him.

The crowd’s cheers shook the arena.

Lucerys watched in awe, his mouth half open.
Then Joffrey tugged at his sleeve. “Do we get blackberry tarts too?!”
Lucerys burst out laughing. Tarts. Life’s little victories.
“Ask Helaena,” he said. “Since you won first place in the squire’s contest yesterday, you deserve ten of them, at least.”
Joff grinned. “You got second in archery — that’s nine tarts for you.”

The brothers shared a laugh. Helaena leaned in, smiling.
“Don’t worry, my brothers. I’ll bake plenty of tarts for everyone.”

Lucerys and Joff exchanged a look.
That was the second time today Helaena had called him “my brother.”
Coincidence? Maybe not.

Before Lucerys could dwell on it, the next match was announced:
“Maris Baratheon versus Benjicot Blackwood!”

Maris Baratheon strode onto the field like a war goddess — tall, commanding, her silver-stag-etched armor gleaming in the sun.
Her sharp jawline, raven-black hair, and fierce, confident stance declared that few dared even approach her.

Opposite her stood Benjicot Blackwood — only sixteen, and dwarfed beside her towering frame. His greatsword looked nearly as long as he was tall.
Yet there was a fire in his eyes, a stubborn spark.
Blackwoods… never yielded.

Lucerys knew exactly how skilled Benji was with that heavy sword — he’d been trained by none other than Harwin Strong.

He truly did like Maris; he’d spoken with the young alpha woman a few times at formal dinners. She was honest, bold, and noble.
But Benjicot had been his father’s squire.
And today, he had to make him proud.

The horn sounded.

Maris charged first, lightning-fast despite her size.
Her sword swept in a wide arc — Benjicot barely managed to lift his shield in time, but his horse staggered under the force. Gasps rippled through the crowd.

Lucerys saw the boy’s shield barely hold together — yet he still pressed on.
In the second pass, Benjicot smartly maneuvered to Maris’s side and scored a shallow cut across her armor. The crowd roared with delight. Even Lucerys clapped.

But Maris’s brows had drawn together.
And when a Baratheon grew angry... chaos followed.

In the final round, Maris unleashed her full strength.
She spurred her horse forward, lifted her sword high, and with a single blow disarmed Benjicot — knocking both sword and balance from him.
He fell hard, but before the dust had even settled, he was on his feet again.

Despite the blood at his lip, he dragged his sword’s tip through the sand and bowed before her.
“My respects, Lady Maris,” he said loudly — his youth, pride, and courtesy winning the hearts of all.

Maris gave him a solemn nod, raising her sword in salute.
“Let’s fight again someday, Blackwood. It was a good match.”

Lucerys smiled as he clapped; Joffrey leapt to his feet, cheering wildly beside him.
The innocent joy of the children seemed to wash the arena clean of all its tension.

“Your future is bright,” Maris said, her tone sincere. “Well fought.”
Benjicot beamed. “It was an honor, my lady!”

With a dignified smile, Maris dismounted, extended her hand, and the young warrior took it eagerly.
Together, they left the arena to a standing ovation.

...

By the fourth round, everyone was on the verge of losing their minds.
They had reached the semifinals now: Only Aemond, Daemon, Maris, and Cregan remained.

The crowd buzzed with anticipation, wondering which duel would open the next round.

Then, the announcer's voice rang out:
“AEMOND TARGARYEN VS. CREGAN STARK!”

A murmur rippled through the stands.

Lucerys noticed Joffrey beside him pounding his knees in excitement.
“Gods,” Joffrey breathed, eyes wide. “Aemond the Monster versus Cregan the Ice Lord. I was born to witness this!”

Lucerys rolled his eyes. “You’re unbelievable.”

Aemond entered the arena.

Mounted atop his black stallion, long sword in hand, he looked like a wraith of death. His green-and-black armor gleamed like a dark dawn.
He fixed his single violet eye on Cregan Stark, the gaze chilling Lucerys from that much distance.

Cregan, in his grayish armor that mirrored the cold threat of the North, faced him calmly.
When he raised his sword, he did not avert his eyes from Aemond’s even for a heartbeat.

The horn blew.

Aemond struck first, again.

He charged like lightning, his sword shattering Cregan’s shield to splinters. Steel cracked like bone.

The crowd said ''OOOOOooo'' in unison.

Cregan steadied himself and smiled.

On the second pass, Cregan aimed for Aemond’s horse.

The beast reared, nearly unseating its rider. But, as he had proven in his previous fights, Aemond was fast. Very fast.

Aemond leapt from the saddle, landed fluidly, spun, and slashed.
The silver blur of his sword rang against Cregan’s armor, which knocked the man off of his horse.

A moment of stunned silence happened. Leaping from horse to attack actually was legal to do in this event. However, nobody could have guessed it. It was indeed a brilliant but very risky move.

Following the silence, the whole arena roared with clapping and cheers.

It was the loudest the arena had ever been.

Even Lucerys couldn’t stay still. His heart thundered. From excitement? Fear? Something in between? Something else entirely? He had no clue.

Joffrey was shouting like a madman. “LEGENDARY! THIS MAN IS ABSOLUTELY LEGENDARY!”

Helaena was laughing and clapping, bouncing little Viserys on her knee, making the child giggle.

Aemond withdrew his sword and walked away with princely poise — as though victory was his natural state of being.

Cregan rose slowly, silent but composed — his expression neither rage nor shame, only quiet respect.

As cheers filled the air, Lucerys’ eyes followed Aemond’s departing figure.

The next match was already being prepared: Maris Baratheon vs. Daemon Targaryen.

Maris entered first — the pride of House Baratheon embodied in her stride.
The silver stags embossed on her armor gleamed under the sunlight.

She walked tall, defiant... yet in her black eyes flickered with something Lucerys recognized.

Something he’d seen before in Qoren Martell’s eyes.

Fear.

Because standing across from her... was Daemon Targaryen.

Daemon walked with Darksister on his back, he looked as if he had became one with shadows.

His horse that is walking right behind him, held from his bridle, somehow strenghtened his dark demeanor.

Daemon's face had a familiar expression to Lucerys: The one the man has when he is excited for danger.

And when he had that expression, with that uncanmy smile, things wouldn't go well for those who against him. Lucerys knew from experience, as he sometimes even pitied foes of his stepfather.

The arena was silent with expectation. Lucerys held his breath again. He hadn't expected a tournament would be this exciting, and they weren't even at the finals yet!

Joffrey mumbled next to him, "Gods...this feels like a death sentence."

Lucerys could only nod.

Helaena and Rhenyra looked at each other, smiling. They probably were the only ones smiling in the whole arena. Even the children felt the heavy atmosphere. Why were they laughing, Luke had no clue, but he let them be.

The horn blewed.

Maris was the first to attack.

Her attack seemed desperate to Lucerys, as if trying to do her maximum at the very beginning in a hope to outperform Daemon.

She knew she probably couldn'toutperform Daemon, but Lucerys respected her bravery because she tried anyway.

Daemon smiled even wider.

Maris' attacks were evaded by Daemon skillfully. His stepfather always made fighting look so easy from the outside. Which made the scene look even scarier: A fierce alpha woman attacking very feraciously was being fended off seemingly effortlessly.

It had a psychological toll on Maris too, Luke was sure of it, but the woman did not show it. Which made Lucerys respect her even more.

Maris held his lance strongly, rode her horse forward and swung his sword.

Daemon slide to the left like a shadow. In the first step, he made his horse turn right. Second step, Darksister arched in the air with a deathly pace.

Swords clashed.

Lucerys saw the way Maris' shield was dented and her fingers getting whiter. But Daemon did not slow down. Immediately after came the second attack.

This time, Darksister flew, passing her shield by, hitting her shoulderplate. She moved away last minute, barely avoiding the attack.

But this caused imbalance to her.

Spectators gasped in unision. All eyes were on the arena.

Daemon, made a third move which was as brutal as the previous ones, his impact on her chestplate causing imbalance and also startling her horse which made her fell her from her horse.

In the dirt and dust, Maris tried to sit, but couldn't. Then, she tried again, this time succeeding. Her chestplate had a huge scrape and her shoulderplate was bashed.

She bowed her head slowly. The utter respect was burning in her eyes as she slowly raised her head.

Daemon congratulated her, helping her on her feet briefly.

Lucerys could never forget the utter respect the alpha woman had for Daemon.

Arena roared in unision.

"DAEMON! DAEMON!"

Joffrey was smiling euporically.

"That's my dad!!! Awesome and fearsome!!" he shouted. Rhaena joined him with a scream as loud: "Damn straight!"

Lucerys smiled at them. 'Indeed, Daemon is a living legend.'

And, while Maris left, Daemon stayed.

Everybody thought the same thing: Final has came.

After Aemond joined Daemon on the arena, Lucerys felt his gaze on him for a second.

It was an uncanny feeling, his gaze. He didn't know why did he gaze at him. Was it to show his strenght off, letting him know he can take his revenge whenever he wanted?

Lucerys felt immense fear and hoped Daemon would win.

Then the announcer announced the final fight:

"THE VERY LAST FIGHT, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! IT IS NOW KING CONSORT DAEMON TARGARYEN AGAINST PRINCE AEMOND TARGARYEN!"

Everybody held their breaths.

Two dragons were standing in front of each other.

Yes, there was Baela versus Daeron and Aemond versus Daeron before, however, this time it was as if they were about to watch Caraxes versus Vhagar with their riders.

A true Targaryen fight was about to unfold and everyone was aware of it.

The final match was going to be one single raund. Arena was eerily silent. The only sound audible was wind blowing the sand of the fighting platform of the arena.

Two dragons.

One young, steeled in heavy losses of the past; one old, with endless confidence, hardened by many many battles.

Now the Realm was about to see who will prevail: The 'Rogue Prince' Daemon of the years, or the 'One eyed Visenya' Aemond?

The horn blew, and thus started beginning of the end.

The horn blew, and thus started beginning of the end.

Horses thundered forward.

Steel crashed against steel. The clash echoed through the very stones.

Aemond veered right, striking at Daemon’s flank. Daemon spun, Dark Sister carving a deadly line through the air.

Lucerys pressed his fist to his knee, trembling.

“No,” Joffrey whispered beside him. “No… they won’t stop until one of them falls.”

Rhaena gripped his hand, trembling too.

Behind them, Rhenyra stood frozen; Helaena’s wide eyes were fixed on her brother and her uncle.

They circled, cautious. No wasted strikes.

Daemon tilted his head slightly — the charismatic grin that had terrified Martell and Baratheon was gone.

He was utterly, dangerously serious.

That wasn't a good sign.

Daemon only did that expression when he is going to fight really seriously.

Aemond feinted — a bluff. Daemon didn’t take it. In a flash, he turned his mount and attacked from Aemond’s blind side.

But Aemond heard him. He had heightened hearing to compansate his unseeing side, or so it seemed.

He twisted, blade raised, barely in time — the edge of Dark Sister scraped across his helm instead of his throat.

A sharp cry escaped him — the sound slicing through the still air.

No one dared to cheer. Even breathing felt like sacrilege.

Daemon unleashed a flurry — three strikes, each like a hammer of death.

Any lesser man would have fallen.

It became extremely evident that these two were on another level entirely.

Aemond caught the second strike on his shield — but the third one slammed against his arm plate, so fierce that it had drew blood.

Lucerys saw new emotions apperaing on his violet eye. Fear and... Excitement?

He was smiling. Like a madman.

Daemon, too, wore the same fevered grin.

These weren’t men anymore. They were creatures of battle, finally unleashed.

Lucerys now umderstood in utter fear: These two were holding back in their previous fights. All along.

Gods be good.

“The first blood to Daemon,” Rhenyra murmured, not in pride — in dread.

Aemond retreated, blood trickling from his arm, yet his expression was almost euphoric. He felt no pain — Lucerys could tell.

“Aemond hasn’t yielded,” Helaena whispered to her elder sister.

Little Viserys clung to her skirts, burying his face; Jaehaera and Jaehaerys huddled in Rhenyra’s lap.

Even young Aegon tried to watch, though his eyes shimmered with fear.

Rhaena and Joffrey were praying non-stop.

Lucerys sat frozen.

This was history unfolding before his eyes.

He would never ever forget this until the end of his life.

The horses were spent.

Aemond’s stallion stumbled and fell — a gasp rippled through the crowd.

But Aemond leapt clear, landing amidst the dust, blade raised.

“Let’s finish this on foot, uncle,” he called. His voice was high yet masculine, steady, sharp and almost gleeful.

He still had that familiar, manic smile.

Lucerys flinched. That smile. He knew it. How could he forget it?

It was the very smile he himself had at the night he cut Aemond's eye off.

Daemon laughed softly, a short, dangerous sound. His horse was about to fall too, anyway.

“Intresting. Very well.”

Two dragons now stood on equal ground.

They looked less like men and more like gods of war risen from depths of Valyria’s hell.

And thus, the dance begun.

Daemon lunged left, pressing the blind spot. Dark Sister fell like lightning.

Aemond turned at the very sound of it, ducking just in time.

Lucerys’ heart hammered like it would burst.

Daemon attacked again — the three-strike pattern with the lightness of Valyrian Steel.

Aemond blocked two with more ease this time, however, the third slammed into his chestplate. He staggered, crying out, but did not fall.

“Father…” Joffrey whispered, tears spilling down his face.

Rhaena clung to him, trembling. “You can do it father… please, you can win…”

Helaena’s gaze clouded for an instant, then sharpened again, locked on Aemond.

She had seen something — the future, perhaps — and dread coiled in Lucerys’ gut.

It was as if... As if she had seen something that is even more significant than the fight.

There was no time to think, however. The storm raged on.

Then—an opening.

As Daemon stepped in to strike, Aemond kicked low, catching his uncle’s knee.

Daemon stumbled—

—and the stands erupted.

Lucerys was on his feet before he realized it.

Daemon righted himself just as Aemond’s sword swept in a gleaming arched toward his neck.

Daemon ducked, the blade slicing through one of the dragon wings on his helm.

He rose instantly, counterattacking with supernatural speed—

—but Aemond was faster. His sword missed Daemon’s throat by inches, and his boot slammed into the older man’s side.

Daemon reeled but didn’t fall, blocking strike after furious strike.

Then Aemond’s left hand lashed out — a sudden backhanded blow that staggered Daemon.

The next instant, his sword was at Daemon’s throat.

The edge touched his skin.

A thin line of blood appeared. Even though the healm covered his neck.

And then—Aemond stopped and withdrew his sword from Daemon's throat.

Silence. Total, shattering silence was occuring in the arena.

Aemond lowered his sword.

The announcer's voice trembled through the quiet:
“The victor — Prince Aemond Targaryen!”

The crowd erupted.
Cheers, screams, tears.

Lucerys swallowed hard. Helaena closed her eyes, murmuring as if praying.
Rhenyra didn’t move — her gaze fixed upon her husband.

Joffrey clung to Rhaena, weeping. “Our Father… how…?”

Lucerys felt his own eyes burn, though he couldn’t tell why.

At last, the queen composed herself, rose, and declared Aemond the champion.
The Crown of Beauty and Love was to be presented — but only after all the fallen champions returned to the field.

Therefore, a short break was taken to make the neccesary preperations and to ensure the fallen champions' return.

Everyone, however, wondered the same thing.

Who would be crowned as Queen (or King) of Love and Beauty?

Who could capture the favor of the Death-Dragon himself?

Chapter Text

With the competitors who returned to the stands, a lively celebration had begun in the arena.

Applause, cheers, glances brimming with love—everywhere was alive with joy. Simply taking part in this event was a great honor; everyone was proud of their warriors.

Rhaenyra kissed Daemon on the cheek while Rhaena embraced her twin, Baela.

Jacaerys, forgetting his exhaustion, kissed his wife and children, then pulled Joffrey and Lucerys into a tight hug. Little Aegon and Viserys, too, were swept up into loving arms and received their share of affection from the celebration from their eldest brother.

When Daeron arrived, Helaena embraced him; with a small smile, each member of the royal family congratulated him one by one. (Most enthusiastically, Joffrey, by the way. Lucerys would definitely have words with him after the tournament, hehe.)

Similar scenes of warmth were playing out across the other sections of the stands.

Lucerys noticed them from the corner of his eye, but he didn’t feel them for some reason. Everything seemed distant, as though being observed through thick glass. Sounds were muffled, echoing, drowning. Except for the wild pounding of his own heart: Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump.

Then, Daemon’s powerful voice boomed over the arena, silencing the festive roar single-handedly:

“Aemond Targaryen! Step forward to receive the Crown of Beauty and Love!”

The place erupted once again. Cheers, frantic applause, cries of joy blending together in a single wave of celebration…

But for Lucerys, it was nothing more than a distant hum.

The serene yet weirdly unsettling smile on Helaena’s face made his stomach twist even tighter.

That smile... It was as though she already knew what was destined to happen.

Aemond returned to the arena. His green-and-black armor was still scratched and bloodstained.

His single eye was turned toward the stands.

The attendants brought forth the Crown of Beauty and Love on a silver tray.

Aemond approached step by step and took the crown with both hands. The crown, shaped with dragon wings, gleamed brilliantly. In that instant, the entire arena fell silent. The excitement in the air evaporated like mist. Only attention, expectation, and tension remained.

Lucerys felt cold fear crawling through his veins.

Aemond turned. Step by step, he advanced toward the stands.

Lucerys averted his gaze.

Floris and Cassandra Baratheon waved their handkerchiefs, Cerelle Lannister’s radiant smile shone brightly…

All of them were looking at Aemond with admiration.

All of them were trying to capture the attention of that beautiful yet dangerous man.

But that single eye.

It was fixed only on... Him?!

The blood drained from Lucerys’s face.

He had to be imagining it. After all, Helaena and the children were there too… right?

RIGHT?!

His stomach twisted, violently aching and churning.

No. No. NO!

Then Aemond’s sharp yet masculine voice tore through the arena:

“I bestow the Crown of Beauty and Love upon the Most Beautiful Omega of the Realm, and to whom I wish to court and to marry—Lucerys Strong!”

A single second of silence—an eternity. And then… chaos erupted.

Pure chaos.

Joffrey’s mouth fell open. Rhaena and Baela moved in front of him protectively.

Rhaenyra’s face turned to stone; the muscles around her lips trembled.

Everyone froze when they saw Daemon’s hand slide toward Dark Sister’s hilt.

Jacaerys’s jaw was clenched so tightly that the lines of his face stood out sharply; the air around him practically burned with his alpha pheromones.

Daeron just stood there, stunned.

Helaena… she only smiled gently. As if she had known all along.

Lucerys couldn’t move. Aemond was walking toward him.

Lucerys looked up at the approaching man with terror in his eyes.

Ever since that cursed night at Driftmark, when he had taken Aemond’s left eye, the man had hated him with a fiery, obsessive passion. What he was doing now could only mean trouble. What was he planning? Was this some new form of mockery? Or torment? Or something even worse?

Aemond stopped right in front of him.

Lucerys couldn’t even lift his head. But Aemond’s presence struck his skin like scorching heat.

 ''Would you do me the honor and accept my courtship? If my gift is not of your liking, I can get you something even better. Anything you want. Anytime you want. I can do whatever you want.''

He extended the crown.

Lucerys lifted his hands involuntarily. When the cold gold touched his skin, he shuddered.

He didn’t place the crown on his head. He simply held it—with trembling fingers.

For a brief moment, something dark, flickered in Aemond’s eye.

It wasn’t anger. It was something else—something frightening, intense and consuming. Like a black hole. The violet iris surrounded a darkness that seemed to pull him in. Something akin to satisfaction.

Lucerys’s eyes filled with tears.

 ''I... I dont know what to-''

And then Daemon roared:

“WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”

Even the stone walls of the arena trembled with his fury.

A wave of panic rippled through the crowd.

Some children began to cry. Some women pressed their handkerchiefs to their mouths.

The fog in Lucerys’s mind cleared instantly. He could barely breathe, but he was focused.

Daemon took several steps forward, gripping his sword hilt tightly.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?! Is this how you mean to harm him?! DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!”

Aemond didn’t blink. He looked at Lucerys for a long moment with a calm and sincere smile. Then turned to Daemon.

“No,” he said softly. “Never. I do not wish to harm him. It is the exact opposite, actually.”

The entire arena gasped.

Lucerys couldn’t hold back his tears anymore. It was just... Too much. He was still clutching the crown with shaking hands.

Jacaerys appeared beside him instantly, eyes like daggers ready to strike Aemond’s throat.

“You have no idea what you’re saying,” Jace hissed.

Aemond raised his high yet masculine voice:

“I am well aware about what I am saying, brother-in-law. I have chosen Lucerys Strong as my King of Love and Beauty because my heart recognizes no one else. I simply hope that he also would choose me in the future. I am in love with you brother. That is all.”

Lucerys’s knees nearly gave way. He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder.

Queen Rhaenyra rose to her feet. Her face was as pale as chalk, the muscles at her lips still twitching.

It seemed she was clenching her teeth to suppress her rage.

The queen, standing tall and proud, delivered the final blow:

“The last event of the tournament has been concluded. We shall reconvene at the evening feast. I thank everyone for attending. The tournament now has came to an end!”

The crowd stirred.

Lucerys clung helplessly to his mother’s arm. When Rhaenyra’s furious expression turned toward him, it softened.

He was grateful for her. As the applause and chatter began again, Lucerys heard almost nothing. He didn’t remember how he left the arena. Nor how he reached his chambers. All he could do was collapse onto his bed.

And to think. 

Thinking of Aemond’s gaze. Of the crown that he somehow haven't dropped somewhere.

And of the horrible, unspeakable question that kept circling in his mind:

What if he is telling the truth?

Benjicot had returned to the stands after Aemond was declared the victor, during the brief intermission before the presentation of the Crown of Beauty and Love.

The entire House Blackwood was celebrating him and his aunt Alysanne Blackwood, full of that fierce Blackwood enthusiasm.

But Benji’s eyes were fixed on the royal tribune.
Well... More specifically, on Lucerys Strong.

He hadn’t seen Lucerys in years, and the omega had grown into an incredibly handsome and beautiful man.
Truly breathtaking.

His cinnamon curls reached the nape of his neck, glinting like gold under the sunlight.
The airy white shirt embroidered with gold and the red-and-black trousers suited him perfectly.

Alysanne nudged him with a grin.
“Told you you wouldn’t be able to take your eyes off Prince Lucerys!”
Benjicot could feel himself blushing—but she was right.
''He was awesome yesterday.''

Alysanne nodded. ''Yes indeed. He is a great archer. Jeyne barely won against him. I think, if there were to be another contest, Lucerys might take the first place!''

Benjicot smiled. He agreed on that. Luke could do whatever he puts his mind to! He had Riverman blood running through him about this matter for sure.
(Okay, he had First Men blood, but since Strong's are one of the lords of Riverlands it still count. Wouldn't it?)

''Well, Aly. You also were amazing. You became the 4th at the archery contest, you honored our House!''

Alysanne tried to look sheepish but she was too proud of herself at the moment to accomplish that. Not that she didn't deserve it, though.

Afterwards, all of the House Blackwood spectators raised their heads with the booming voice of King Consort Daemon Targaryen: ''Aemond Targaryen! Step forward to receive the Crown of Beauty and Love!”

Alysanne immediately nudged Benjicot. ''What a guy...'' she said, looking at Aemond. ''He had the 3rd place at the archery contest yesterday and now he had won the tournament! Truly astounding.''

Benjicot didn't gave his aunt an answer. He looked at Aemond with a dissatisfied expression. He haven't even seen the Targaryen Prince before, but he disliked him a lot. For some reason.
(Okay, the reason was that he had plenty of childhood memories with Luke. And Luke would always talk about him.)
(He wasn't jealous of him. Not at all.)

He watched with disinterest as Aemond went to claim the Crown of Beauty and Love. He wondered who would receive the crown today: Would he take a boring decision to give the crown to her elder sister? Or would he give it to an unfortunate woman or omega?

Well, not that he cared. He only wished to speak with Lucerys at the feast, so it was better if he get on with it already.
Feast of yesterday was not successful on that regard as Royal family was always around Luke. But, tonight the feast had a dancing event too. Maybe they could dance?

Benjicot kept looking at Aemond. He was now walking towards the Royal Box, but Baratheons and Lannisters were nearby. Maybe Floris or Cassandra Baratheon or Cerelle Lannister could be chosen?

But... Aemond didn't seem to look at their way. And he was approaching the Royal Box even faster now.
Benjicot started to feel uneasy. No. This wasn't good.

Aemond approached so close that he now is just in front of the Royal Box. But his eyes weren't on Crown Princess. Or her daughter. But on... Lucerys.
Hell no. No. This wasn't happening. This shouldn't be happening!

Benji held the railing so hard his hand joints went white. He could also see that Alysanne was stunned too, but he couldn't concentrate on her. Aemond, approached and approached an then...

“I bestow the Crown of Beauty and Love upon the Most Beautiful Omega of the Realm, and to whom I wish to court and to marry—Lucerys Strong!”

Everyone was shocked.
It was known that Lucerys had blinded Aemond when they were children. It was also known that the Alpha hated Lucerys for it. Some even thought he wanted him dead.
What the hell was that?!

Lucerys was in obvious shock, and his sisters came in front of him, as if trying to shield him from Aemond.
Benjicot was about to lose his mind due to the burning anger he is experiencing. His ears were tingling, though he heard what Aemond said next:

''Would you do me the honor and accept my courtship? If my gift is not of your liking, I can get you something even better. Anything you want. Anytime you want. I can do whatever you want.''

He extended the crown. Lucerys picked the crown with shaking hands, but did not put it on his face.
They stared at each other for a while, and then Lucerys tried to answer with a trembling voice.
''I... I dont know what to-''

Then came the roar of the King Consort.
''WHAT IS THE MEANING OF THIS?!”

Everybody froze.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?! Is this how you mean to harm him?! DO NOT EVEN THINK ABOUT IT!''

''No'' said the bastard, with an insincere voice. ''Never. I do not wish to harm him. It is the exact opposite, actually.”

Poor Luke was downright crying now. It broke Benji's heart. He wished he was near him so that he could soothe him. But it wasn't possible to go near a Targaryen omega that easily. Even though they were childhood friends.

The Crown Prince appeared next to his brother. He was seething. “You have no idea what you’re saying,”

Then the cunt raised his ugly-as-fuck voice more.
“I am well aware about what I am saying, brother-in-law. I have chosen Lucerys Strong as my King of Love and Beauty because my heart recognizes no one else. I simply hope that he also would choose me in the future. I am in love with you brother. That is all.”

Then the Queen interrupted the whole drama: “The last event of the tournament has been concluded. We shall reconvene at the evening feast. I thank everyone for attending. The tournament now has came to an end!”

Afterwards, everyone quickly left the Arena with the Queen's orders. Blackwoods were noe exception.
Last things Benjicot saw before exiting the arena was Luke getting away from the Royal Box using a special exit with Lady Rhaena and Baela and King Daemon holding Aemond back by some seemingly-harsh commands along with Crown Prince Jacaerys.

Aemond seemed to stay where he was, and the remaining Royal family left the box with another special exit.

Benji returned to the world with a hand on his shoulder. Alysanne.
''Benji!'' Alysanne hissed. ''You are releasing so many pheromones! Get a hold of yourself!''

Benjicot looked around and saw some people affected by his pheromones. He tried to suppress himself, muttering an apology.
He felt despair.
''Luke...'' He thought. ''I hope you are okay...''

Chapter Text

Lucerys focused on the target in front of him.

He spent hours in his chamber with Rhaena and Joffrey after the tournament fiasco.
Even though all he wanted to do was to rot in his bed, his siblings had never left him alone after they found him in his chambers alone, crying.

His Mother, Father and other family members (except, you know who) came to visit him too, but Lucerys didn't have enough energy left in him to listen to them.
Because he knew who they will talk about, and he wasn't ready to hear that.
He wasn't ready to hear anything about Aemond Targaryen now.

It hurt even to think.
And, he then begged Joffrey and Rhaena to go to Kingswood and practice archery.

At first, they were against this idea. Of course they were. Luke looked like crap and they didn't wanted to leave him alone in a state like this.
However, Luke needed this. He had to regain his mental stability enough to get over the feist for fucks sake! He had to stay strong for his mother.

So, after a heated argument with Daemon and Joffrey; they decided to compromise. Lucerys was allowed to go with strict attendance of Ser Arryk.

He grabbed another arrow.

He was now in his secret haven at Kingswood. (Ser Arryk knew about it now... And Joffrey and Rhaena were also aware of it... So it wasn't THAT much of a secret. But anyway.)
He discovered here 3 months ago, when they moved back to Kings Landing after the coronation of his mother.

After the cursed night that he took Aemond's eye at Driftmark, his family had returned to Harrenhal- except for him.
Why, one may ask. Because Aemond wished so.
He begged the deceased King Viserys, his father, to grant his wish of compensation towards his lost eye.

He wanted Lucerys to stay at Kings Landing for a year. He wanted Luke to mend the thing he broken. 'A dragon is not enough. I want him here, too. He might repent that way,' he said.
How could Lucerys refuse?
He couldn't. He wouldn't do so, even if he had free will. He felt extremely sorry back then. Heck, he still felt extremely sorry now!

He became Aemond's left eye.
He helped the boy up. He was there when he re-learned everything. He helped him re-learn everything. He apologized everyday. Not for any formalities. It was coming within his heart.They were just 6 and 10 year old boys and Luke was so sorry. Extremely, desperately, sorry.

Yet Aemond never accepted his apology. Except the day Lucerys was due to leave, but it wasn't an actual acceptance, so Lucerys wasn't sure if to count it as one or not. ''I acknowledge your apology. Maybe one day I might be able to forgive you. See you then, nephew'' he said.

In that year, he accepted his help with a cold demeanor. However, gone was their previous childhood memories. Aemond always stayed silent and impassive. Nothing was left of the child with a dazzling smile. He was gone.
And it was all Lucerys's fault.
Fuck.

Lucerys sent the arrow to the target with a grunt.

He never missed his father more than today in a long while. He would do anything to be at his warm embrace, inhaling his Cinnamon-Forest scent. He wanted to cry again, but couldn't. He simply didn't have enough power to do so now.
He tightened his grip on his bow instead, his fathers bow.

''Learn to be a good archer, Lucerys, Joffrey.'' He would say to them. ''You two could be omegas. Omegas have to know how to protect themselves. This is the best way to do so.''
He was indeed right. Both of them had presented as an omega. And both of them were fine archers. Luke wished his father could see them. Wished he could see him now...

He rubbed his eyes end took several bows from his bow case.
He was now shooting arrow after arrow, each one of them making a different echo in his heart.

Swish, Thunk! 'I am giving this crown to the most beautiful omega of the Realm.'
Swish, Thunk! 'Most beautiful omega of the Realm'
Swish, Thunk! 'Lucerys Strong.'

Luke could barely breathe. He took another arrow.
Swish, Thunk! Thunk!

A second arrow sound pierced through, alerting Ser Arryk and Lucerys both.
They turned their faces toward the figure approaching them from the woods. It was the least person he wanted to see now.

'How the hell have Aemond found him, sor fucks sake?!'

He started panicking. Why was he here? What, what was he planning to do to him?
Lucerys noticed that he was shivering. He quickly went behind Ser Arryk, who acted as a shield between him and Aemond.

Aemond was in his black riding clothes and fighting boots. He was unarmed, or so he seemed. Lucerys automatically took an arrow with his shivering hands and stretched the bow with it, the arrowhead pointing at Aemond.
''Do-do not approach!!'' Aemond immediately halted.

''My prince, strict orders from the Queen, I must ask you to leave.''
Aemond nodded. ''No worries, Ser. I am of no harm. I can prove you that.''

Lucerys couldn't hold his tongue. ''Then could you leave?!''
He hated the fact that his voice shivered with utter fear.

''I won't come any closer. I only wish to speak to you. Ser Arryk, you may stay where you are. Could we converse at a distance like this?''

Lucerys was about to laugh. ''Since when do you wish to talk to me?!''
Aemond tilted his head a little bit. He had this smile that he wasn't use to seeing. That, that childhood smile. 'It is not fair!' Lucerys thought.

Ser Arryk sighed. ''Stay in this distance, my prince. Prince Lucerys, do you wish to speak?''
Lucerys sighed shakingly. He knew more than anyone that Aemond wouldn't leave until they spoke. And, deep down, Lucerys also knew that they needed to speak. Luke needed it for his own peace of mind.

''Let this conversation be short.''
Ser Arryk nodded and stayed next to Lucerys.

''Very well. Lucerys, I am aware that you are afraid that I might harm you somehow. So let me make this clear: I have zero intention of hurting you. I swear it on old gods ant the new. And, also to Valyrian gods.''

Lucerys and Ser Arryk looked at each other. Swears were not things to be taken lightly. And even a man like Aemond wouldn't dare to break a swear like this. But Lucerys needed to be sure. ''Swear it on Vhagar too!''

Aemond smiled even wider. ''I swear it on Vhagar that I will not harm you. Not near, not now, not soon. Never''

Lucerys barely held back his sigh. Aemond cleared his throat. ''Now that I started, I want another of my intentions clear. I would like to convey my feelings about you.''
''Would you shut up if I refuse?''
''Yes. But do you want me to?''

Lucerys rubbed his temples. The man knew him surprisingly well. Lucerys could never sleep tonight if he didn't let him speak.
When he said nothing, Aemond continued.
''I am slowly losing my mind. Did you know that?''

Lucerys tried not to roll his eyes. He was afraid he was unsuccessful at that but Aemond didn't seem to mind, at least. ''Except for it being 'Slowly' it is actually predictable.''

Even Ser Arryk snorted at that. Aemond smiled sheepishly.
Gods. Him smiling was... Unusual. It creeped Luke out.

''And this is because of you.''
Luke felt offended. ''What! What the fuck did I ever done to you?!''
Aemond looked further away this time. His eyes were red, his cheeks too. Lucerys turned his face away. It wasn't fair that Aemond was now looking like his younger self!

''I- I cant get you out of my head, Lucerys. What kind of spell did you cast on me?''
Lucerys felt his mouth dry. He couldn't say anything.

''I always thought of you. From the day you were born, until this day. We were childhood friends. You would try to be by my side when Jacaerys and Aegon became cruel. You would sit with me, read with me, look at me with sparkling eyes. I looked at you with sparkling eyes.''
Lucerys felt his mouth wide open. Aemond continued.

'When you cut my eye that day... I hated you. I felt betrayed. You did that, to protect Jacaerys. I hated it. I hated that fact even more than the reality of my half-blindness. I quickly noticed that I was jealous. So I wanted you to stay with me. They decided the duration would be one year. I actually wanted 4 or 5.''

''What?!'' Aemond opened his hands to his sides. ''I wanted you by my side. I thought that would make me forgive you. But, even if I did forgave you for the accident, yes Luke that was an accident, or if anything it was self defense, and I know you torture yourself over it. You apologized everyday. You wrote apology letters for years. I forgive you.''

With this Lucerys wanted to cry, again. This time out of happiness. Yet, Aemond kept speaking.

''Even if I forgave you for the incident, I never forgave myself for loving a boy. I knew the way I was looking at you wasn't normal. I was scared. I distanced myself from you.''

Lucerys was stunned. ''So... You didn't hate me?!''

''I did hated you. I even wanted to take revenge on you. Yet your meticulous care and constant apologies could soften even my hatred. Then nothing but my love and obsession of you remained. Because, Lucerys, I am deeply in love with you.''

''What- uhm-what?!'' Even Ser Arryk was shocked. But Luke was in no position to notice him.

''I love you. I cannot think anything other than you.'' Lucerys felt the sincerity in his violet eyes. ''I used to wish to take my revenge on you. But now I only want you. You to be mine, to be in my life and all of my memories. To see you first in the morning and last in the night. I swear on Vhagar, I love you.''

Lucerys felt like crushing under his heavy emotions. ''W-what if it is just an obsession? It would pass. You might not love me. You might just want to conquer me.''

Aemond then got down on his knees, onto the wet fallen leaves. ''I swore on every deity that I love you and would never harm you. And here I am, Lucerys. On my knees. I am surrendering you, just as I had surrendered your love years ago.'' Lucerys's eyes flickered. ''I truly have no clue what have you done to me. Maybe this is the way a Targaryen loves, with madness. Maybe it is just... You. All I know is that I burn more and more the further away I am from you.''

He threw a very last glance at them, and stand back up, turning his back on them to disappear within the trees again. ''Ser Arryk, I hope you would keep this conversation's contents a secret. See you at the feast, Lucerys.'' Then he was gone.

Chapter Text

When the night has came, hall's of Red Keep was illuminated by warm lights of torches.
Behind red and black-embroidered tablecloths, gold adorned goblets and silver cutleries, the most powerful figures in Westeros had gathered together in the feast.
Everything that has been meticulously arranged seemed to screamed at Lucerys, as if saying, 'What the hell are you even doing here?!'

He still couldn't got over the events that occurred today. How could he?! Neither the tournament nor the talk at godswood.
Lucerys looked around. It seemed like the fatigue of the tournament, the intoxication of the victories and the bitter taste of defeats had permeated the tables.
But everyone was looking at him, whispering.

He knew it. Everyone was talking about him. He was no longer Lucerys Strong, he was 'The most beautiful omega of the Realm' 
Awesome. Right?

Luke wanted to get out of this wretched place. But he forced a smile instead.

He was walking between Rhaena and Baela. 

When he returned from the Kingswood, he found Rhaena and Joffrey at his chambers. So, he told them the story without going much into details. But, regardless, they were shocked. 

So, when Baela came, they decided It would be the best if Aemond and Luke wouldn't encounter much today as they had enough encounters just in a day.

In fact, after all these years, just this day they spoke more than many years they spent together combined.

Anyway, the twins were like angry she-dragons. Whenever someone looks at Lucerys more than several seconds, they would look at them with such fierceness they would avert their gaze immediately. Well, what else could he expected from Daemon's daughters?

He was Lucerys Strong. He could do this. He could overcome this feast!

But his steps were becoming increasingly difficult when they started walking towards the Royal Family table. His outfit had been carefully chosen—her mother had personally attended to it—but even the lightness of the fabric and the elegant brooch on his shoulder weren't enough to ease the weight that settled on his heart and stomach.

Had he worn the crown again? No. Wearing it would have been practically signing his death warrant. Well, not wearing it would have been the same, in a way, of course. Because being chosen King of Love and Beauty by the Tournament winner was an honor, and not wearing it at the celebration was considered an insult.

Not that Lucerys cared.

Aemond had the audacity to crown him all of a sudden without any notice. So, he could as well have the audacity to not wear it.

He tried to chase away the scenes that crowded her mind: Aemond giving him the crown, Aemond on his knees making his declaration of love, little Aemond reading quietly...

He took a deep breath.

Now it was time to be seated at the Royal Table which also (unfortunately) included Aemond Targaryen. Baela squeezed his hand. He gave her a grateful smile.

Helaena waved at them. Next to her, Jace was sitting and there were 3 empty seats. He sat right next to Jace, earning a wide grin from him. He tried to smile back at him, but he was very, very nervous to even be able to fake a real smile. Jace seemed to understand his state, so his smile faltered a bit, and he patted him on shoulder.

With that, he felt a bit better. Luke was lucky he had many family members who cared this much about him.

Then, he looked at the table. Children were not here (which was better for everyone) but Rhenys and Corlys seemed to arrived at the feast. Baela and Rhaena beamed when they noticed their grandparents and went to hug them.

Lucerys was content with just waving at them.

Next, he noticed Alicent Hightower.

Oh, so she was here... She couldn't have missed the tournament and attended the feast. At least, not mistakenly.

Gods... He was not happy to see Alicent again. He didn't even do anything that would acknowledge her presence.

Then he looked at his mother and stepfather. Rhenyra looked at him with soft expression, as if calling him my sweet boy with her eyes. Daemon, on the other hand, had a charismatic smile on him. But, this smile turned into a sympathetic one when he locked his purple eyes with his.

Next to Helaena was Daeron and Joffrey. Luke smiled briefly at them as they were conversing something seemingly funny. And, next to Daeron was... Aemond.

Jace, Daemon and Baela were shooting deadly glares at him, but his eye was on Luke... again. Lucerys wanted to run away even more.

When he shortly glanced at Aemond again, he saw the alpha was twirling his wine goblet on his hand. Then, he raised his eye again and looked at him.

Daemon hit his goblet to the table with a charming smile and turned to Lucerys. ''Son. Why won't you come with me for a second?''

Lucerys gulped, but quickly nodded and rose from his seat. He felt Aemond's lingering gaze until they got out of the Feast hall. Daemon stopped when they reached at the Flower Gardens.

''Aemond talked to you after the tournament didn't he?'' Lucerys sighed. He went straight to the point. Classical behavior of Daemon. Lucerys nodded. He normally wouldn't lie to his stepfather, not that he had to, anyway. Regardless, he didn't have the energy to do so.

''Yes.''

Daemon sighed. ''What the fuck the one-eyed cunt had said?''

Lucerys looked at the flowers with tired eyes. ''He said he doesn't hate me anymore. He said he loves me. He swore it on Vhagar.'' He chose not to mention the fact that Aemond said that he forgiven him.

Daemon had a chilling smile appearing on his lips. ''On Vhagar... Grand oath. Even for a boy like him.''

Lucerys couldn't say anything to that.

Daemon rubbed his temples. ''I talked to the bastard after the tourney shitshow. He said he wouldn't give up on his 'love' on you. So I said some... convincing things to him so that he would leave you alone. But it seems I should be more direct to him, huh... He had the courage to talk to my son after all this... Ser Arryk also reported to me.''

Lucerys smiled. He felt safe for the first time of the day after the 'shitshow'

Daemon got him into a tight hug. Lucerys happily wrapped his arms around him, inhaling his scent. When they parted, Daemon spoke with a darker tone. ''My son... One-eyed cunt is a Targaryen alpha. He wants you, that is obvious. But, do not believe him immediately. Protect yourself if he tries to do anything to you- not that I am planning to leave you alone. And if he does harm you, even in a slightest way... Then be sure that I personally will bring him fire and blood.''

Daemon rubbed his shoulder. Lucerys felt so... safe.

''Thank you father.''

''Our conversation is not over. You should know things about Targaryen alphas and omegas.''

Lucerys tilted his head. ''Tell me''

''All alphas are possessive and hungry. But, we are even worse than that. We can burn the Realm to the ground for the ones we love, we can kill the innocent without any remorse. We are capable of doing anything great or horrifying for them. This is not a love that you see in fairy tales. That is ugly, obsessive and distorted. However, Targaryen omegas are the only ones capable of taming us. Be aware of your power. Do not let him disrespect you. You are my son. You are strong. Do not be afraid.''

Daemon huffed a laugh at the stunned Lucerys. ''Targaryen alphas are strong. But Targaryen omegas are stronger. Don't forget that. You are no commoner or a small little lordling. You are a Prince and the future Lord of Harrenhal. You will choose whoever you want. If it is this cunt, so be it. If not, so be it. But, if you do choose him, make sure he would worship the ground you walk on.''

Lucerys played with his fingers. ''Do you think... You know... That he really loves me? That he doesn't hate me, that he doesn't have any ulterior motives?''

Daemon shrugged. ''I do not have an evidence. However, I know these eyes. I noticed it from the beginning. I was Aemond once, son.''

Lucerys was stunned even more. Daemon continued. ''If he ever tries to harm you, or makes you sad somehow, come find me first. Got that? Also, keep your daggers with you all the time. If things go to  a bad direction, cut his cock off.'' 

Lucerys giggled at that. ''Thank you, father.''

Daemon winked at him and extended his arm so that they could link their arms. Then, they returned at the feast as if nothing had happened.

When he returned at his seat, he saw that, unfortunately, Aegon the elder came here as well.

He also ignored him like he ignored his mother and chatted with Baela and Rhaena, trying not to concentrate on the fact that Aemond was looking at him again.

When Jace made a snarl, he had the decency to look away at least, but he didn't seem happy with that.

Lucerys's mind was filled with the same words: 'Most beautiful omega of the Realm, Lucerys Strong.' 'I love you.' 'I was Aemond once, son.'

He wanted to scream.

Then, he was saved by Helaena's gentle but firm voice.

''Okay! Since most of are have arrived, shall we begin our feast?''

There were cheering from almost all of the tables. Then, Rhenyra smiled charmingly at her sister, continuing her excitement. ''Congratulations to all of our contestants whom all fought with bravery! Lets toast for them all!''

The feast hall roared with cheering. Even Lucerys cheered for them.

He then saw Jace kissing the cheek of his giggling wife. Helaena blushed a bit. Aegon rolled his eyes. Lucerys felt a great happiness as he saw Aegon annoyed.

They drank their fill happily. It was a pleasant environment.

Then came the foods. And, gods bless the cooks, they were simply amazing.

Lucerys ate like he got out from hibernation, and he knew his sisters and brothers were no different than him. Hell, everyone in the Royal family had forgotten to eat lunch, they were all starving.

After Lucerys finished his second chicken pie, he sat with great satisfaction. After a bit of chattering and bickering, the music started to play. Ah, Lucerys loved dancing. He wanted to do so, as soon as possible. He bestowed his first dance to Baela who sat right next to him, and the alpha woman smiled and accepted his offer immediately.

He saw that Jace and Helaena was also walking towards the dance floor and he waved at them. They waved back almost immediately.

Then... oh? Well welllll... Joffrey and Daeron was approaching the dance floor as well. Man. Couldn't they just marry already?!

Daemon and Rhenyra, Rhenys and Coryls were also attending the dance. Aegon asked Rhaena, but she flatly refused. Then, someone from Baratheon table came towards her. Maris?! Damn. Him, Joffrey and Rhaena will definately have a gossip session so heated the chambers would be on fireee.

He looked at Aemond for a second. He was sitting alone at the table. And, Aegon was here with his mother. Yikes.

Lucerys looked away from them.

The musicians started to play a playful tune. Baela's hands had reached his waist, and she started to dance with a Velaryon grace. Lucerys thought she was shining. Baela was a very humorous woman. She always knew how to cheer him up. And, at one of the dance moves that she twirled him around, she made a joke funny enough that she made him laugh out loud. Then, they continued their dance with joy.

Aemond wasn't having much fun at the Feast. 

And, the fact that Lucerys was now dancing with Baela Targaryen is just plain torture for him. Her hands were on his waist. She was whispering sweet nothings on his ear. She was hearing him laugh. She was making him laugh.

Aemond's face looked impassive as ever, but inside, a storm was breaking.

He wanted to look away, but couldn't.

When was he able to avert his gaze from Lucerys, though?

When they were children, he looked at him with adoration. After the incident, he looked at him with hate and guilt. When he came to Kings Landing for the double weddings as a newly flowered omega, he looked at him with longing, love and insatiable hunger. He probably wouldn't be able to take his eyes off of him for the rest of his life.

Another laughter rose from him. Aemond's ears, starved for his voice, always captured it despite the loud music. His laugh pierced his soul like a knife.

Lucerys was so beautiful.

He was carrying his mothers elegance and his fathers solid lines. But Lucerys was much more than a combination of both. He himself was a work of art. He was shining like a burning star and everyone around him were looking dim compared to him.

Truly, the most beautiful omega of the Realm.

But tonight, he was even more gorgeous. The black and red silk he wore, the light fabric swishing as he danced... He simply was breathtaking. He was like fire itself, like the apocalyptic volcanoes of Valyria: deadly, searing, and terrifyingly beautiful.

The first song came to an end. Lucerys thanked Baela and sat at his seat briefly. He tried not to look at Aemond, who was blatantly watching him. Scary.

Then, someone approached him. He looked up and saw Benjicot smiling at him. He smiled back politely. ''Would you bestow me this dance, my Prince?'' He said. Lucerys could feel Aemond's burning gaze. Oh. He had an idea, now. ''Sure, my Lord,'' he said with a reverence. He snickered internally, and led the young alpha to the dance floor.

Lucerys wasn't wrong about his internal assumptions. Not at all. Aemond WAS jealous. 

More importantly, he was in despair.

What if the omega was snatched away by this filthy low-life bastard?

He used all of his willpower to stay where he was. All he wanted to do was to stand up and beat the shit out of the stupid bitch and dance with Luke. But Lucerys wouldn't like it if he caused problems in the feast the Queen had poured so many effort to. He already caused him enough problems at the tourney, he didn't wanted to add up to it.

This didn't make enduring it easier, though. He tried not to look at them, but he couldn't help taking some glances. That bastard... was touching Lucerys on the waist. He wanted to cut his hands off of him. He downed his goblet instead.

Aemond felt like he was about to go crazy.

He clenched his jaw. The muscles in his cheeks tensed until they were visible. A tiny vein appeared and disappeared around his eye. He pressed his hand against his knee, his nails nearly digging into his pants. But it didn't work. Still, he couldn't stay calm.

Just then, he felt a soft touch on his shoulder. He looked up. It was Helaena, his dear sister.

''Sister,'' he said.

''Aemond? Why are you sitting here alone like that?'' Her voice was soft but unlike usual, her lilac eyes weren't looking at him dreamily. She had this strength in her eyes now.

''I didn't wanted to dance.''

Helaena smiled sweetly. ''It isn't that you don't want to. You are just not able to.''

Aemond sighed. ''What difference does it have, though?''

Helaena looked at him. Her gaze was one that saw into the very depths of his soul. Deep, silent and merciless. He had never imagined his sister could (or would) look at him like that.

''The feeling inside of you is so enormous.'' She said, not answering his question. ''But, you are aware of the fact that even if you go only one step further, all would be in vain.''

Aemond smiled bitterly at that. Helaena tilted her head a little bit and spoke, almost whispering: ''Lucerys is so beautiful. Isn't he?''

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, only shaking his head to his sister.

''Some flowers bloom at night. Darkness are within them. Everyone likes the sight of the flower at daytime as it is pretty even if it is not blooming in the day. They simply think the day is prettiest version they can see the flower at. However, harder is loving a flower at night. You love both day and night of the flower. So you see the bloom more than anyone. You cannot take your eyes off of it.''

She wasn't making a prophecy now. It was the utter truth. Aemond couldn't say anything other than a weak 'yes'.

Helaena extended her arm to him. ''Lets dance, brother.''

''Of course'' he said silently.

They walked towards the dancing platform. He then adjusted his steps to Helaena's.

He never was a good dancer, but Helaena was, and she was skillfully guiding him to the rhythm.

When Helaena bowed slightly, Aemond accompanied her with a graceful turn. His steps were controlled and precise, the habits of a body trained for years. But his mind remained on Lucerys. So did his gaze.

Lucerys. Lucerys spinning, shining, burning in red and black silk. And Benjicot, gripping his waist, standing too close, smiling too easily.

Lucerys turned. The black and red silk fluttered again. The light caught its folds. And Aemond's eye was dazzled. This isn't light, he thought. This is flame. Fire. I'm burning.

“You stare too intently,” Helaena said softly.
Aemond did not answer. But he matched his steps more carefully to Helaena’s. They turned once, then again.
His face remained as still as a statue, his insides burning.

When the song was about to end, Helaena leaned into his ear: ''I will dance with Benjicot Blackwood in the next song.''

Aemond couldn't express how thankful he felt to his elder sister at the moment. ''Thank you'' he said with utter gratitude. 

Next song was about to start. The hall was filled with a sweet chatter and gentle waves of excitement.

Though, Lucerys was not excited about the dance anymore. He just wanted to return to the table and enjoy some food and drinks that are being served now. (Even if there are some unpleasant people such as Aegon and Alicent. He was that hungry.)

Dancing with Baela was very pleasant, but he unfortunately couldn't say the same about Benjicot.

Benjicot apparently liked him. He had made it pretty obvious in these two days. However, Lucerys had always seen the alpha as a childhood friend. And, even if he did admit that Benjicot had grown up to be a handsome alpha, his feelings towards him were same as the past.

Benjicot tried to remind him of their childhood throughout their dance (which, he did not forget anyway) and Lucerys felt a bit overwhelmed by this. 

Well... he would appreciate it more if Benjicot asked him how he was doing all this time instead of that... Or, he could just ask how he is... Why did he wanted to remind him of their childhood memories all of a sudden, without any single pleasantries? Luke had no idea. But he was a little bit annoyed because of this.

He had expected the alpha to actually care learning about his wellbeing. He was curious about Benji himself! But this demeanor... was plainly rude.

And also, he could feel the Violet eye watching them with a burning gaze.

Lucerys accepted to dance with Benjicot partly because of this, anyway. He knew he was playing with fire, trying to take a little revenge on Aemond for declaring his love in front of everyone and causing him distress, by making him jealous. 

He wasn't regretting his choice at all. At least, he wasn't, until a familiar figure appeared next to him out of nowhere.

Aemond.

Damn.

"Would you bestow me this dance, Lucerys?" His voice was high, masculine, measured, and…terrifying. Lucerys's blood ran cold.

He wanted to cry.

Aemond's face wore that same expressionless mask he always had. He looked truly striking and terrifying in his jet-black trousers and tunic, with a green-black cloak on his shoulders. His left eye had an eye-patch so dark it felt like it was drawing Lucerys in.

In his one violet eye, however, many emotions lingered. Longing. Affection. Lust. Fascination. Targaryen madness. He was looking at him as if he were a work of art. As if he wanted to eat him alive. Lucerys felt shivers down his spine.

Lucerys remained motionless for a moment. He felt as if the entire hall were watching them with bated breath. Patiently, Aemond extended his hand. It was a graceful, controlled gesture—but to him, it seemed like the opening of a trapdoor.

His heart raced. Anger and panic coursed through him. But something else was also writhing inside: curiosity.

'What are you going to do, Luke? Are you going to run away forever? Why wouldn't you just see what happens?' He barely held back his sigh. His curiosity would end him someday, he was sure of it.

Finally, he nodded slightly and held his hand out to the alpha's. Aemond's hand was warm. An unsettling warmth. As their hands met, he applied an almost invisible pressure to his wrist. It was a touch that wasn't firm, but felt perfectly present.
Lucerys swallowed. Then, as a hand settled on his waist, he felt his breath catch.

The hand on his waist... it was shaking. Like the hand on his. But he chose not to say anything about it. Not when he was no different than him.

'Gods be good'

The music started. It was a slower tune, compared to previous two. Lucerys took a deep breath, and started dancing. Surprisingly for Lucerys, Aemond quickly adapted and matched Lucerys's rhythm perfectly. His steps were precise—delicate, measured, and chillingly calm.

His calm demeanor in contrast with his till-shaking hands made Lucerys even more nervous. Aemond's complete control over his dancing would only intensify the pandemonium he was certain was brewing beneath the surface.

Lucerys wanted to laugh at this, but he couldn't. His usual humorous, comical thoughts weren't coming to mind. He still forced himself to smile.

Then Aemond spoke: "Aōha līrinon iksos gevie.'' (You laugh so beautifully.)

His High Valyrian was perfect. The way the words of their homeland didn't seem foreign at all was astounding. But... he was just complimented. In that language. With that impressive pronunciation.

He felt his cheeks burning. Lucerys's steps faltered slightly. Then he regained his composure immediately. 

When he couldn't say anything to that, Aemond lowered his voice even more, continuing in High Valyrian: "You have a voice that warms the heart. And your face... it's the most beautiful face I've ever seen. It always evokes peace in me. Of course, it's not your fault you're so charming."

Lucerys averted his gaze. Then, he looked at him in the eye again as they glided gracefully across the dance floor. He responded in the same language: ''Do you say that to everyone you take a liking to?''

Aemond smiled. ''Well, yes. You are the only one I had ever taken a liking to, however. And 'liking' absolutely is an insufficient word to describe my feelings towards you.''

Aemond turned around him, slowing his pace until he was directly in front of Lucerys. He leaned into his ear as he held him closer. His whisper touched Lucerys's skin: “Every step toward you is madness,” he said softly, “and yet the space between us is a darker kind of ruin.”

Lucerys was sure his mouth was wide open. He felt something warm pooling around his abdomen. This man was completely mad. He was consumed by this dangerous feeling. And, maybe Lucerys was just as mad for... finding it a bit alluring. 

Fuck. Was madness contagious?!

As the music faded, Lucerys quickened his pace, trying to break free. But Aemond held his hand for a second longer. He squeezed his fingers gently before yielding his hand. Then… he let go. As if he had done so by shattering his own will.

Aemond whispered one last thing. "Do not fear me," he said. ''I will prove my devotion to you. The only force that could ever make me relinquish you would be your own desire to be free of me. Nothing else — not time, not distance, not the world itself — could make me give you up.''

Lucerys opened his mouth—but before he could find his words, somebody came by like a storm swept past them. 

Jacaerys.

He immediately put his hand on the other alpha's shoulder, speaking with clenched teeth. ''You. Get the fuck out of here with me. Now!''

Aemond looked at him one last time, and in a manner most uncharacteristic of him, he what he was told without the slightest word of objection.

Lucerys just stood there, frozen. Then Rhaena and Baela came to him, making him seated at their table again. He could feel the eyes of everyone on him. He wanted to disappear.

The rest of the feast went like a daze. Everyone tried to cheer him up (except Alicent and Aegon, of course), but he felt exhausted. He just wanted to go to sleep and let this horrifying day end already. Luckily for him, The feast ended not long after Jace's return. Aemond did not return. Lucerys only sighed in relief.

After the feast and dancing ended, and as the night reached the hour when the torches began to fade, suddenly everything fell silent.
Lucerys slept fitfully that night. But he dreamed of no tournament… no Daemon's words.

Only Aemond.
And that violet eye, which held thousands of emotions.

Chapter Text

When Jacaerys told him to get out, Aemond instantly obeyed.

He wasn't known for his obedience, truth be told. This time, however, he was very willing to do as told for a completely different reason.

If he did not, he might have get even more addicted to the omega's scent then he already was, that is.

He definitely needed some fresh air.

He looked at Jacaerys who was walking furiously in front of him. Aemond kept following silently, his mind elsewhere. He thought of the warmth of Lucerys's fingers against his own, the magnificent curve of his waist, the rhythm of his steps, his delicious scent...

The same words wandered ceaselessly through his mind.
'I'm burning.'

When they finally got further enough from the crowd, Jacaerys grabbed Aemond's arm without hesitation and pulled him behind the nearest pillar.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” His voice was still measured, but his veins were bulging, his teeth clenched. Angry alpha pheromones spread everywhere. “Asking him for a dance? In front of everyone? You son of a bitch!”

Aemond didn't say anything. He just bowed his head a bit. Not with remorse, no. He was just busy thinking about the beauty. 

His beauty, in the future, he hoped.

Jacaerys was seething. "My little brother was shaking. He could barely breathe. I saw it." He put his accusationary finger on the other alpha's chest. His voice grew even colder. "If you dare to approach him again, Aemond… I don't mean this as a mere threat. I will kill you with my own hands. I swear it."

Aemond looked up. His gaze was cleared. Lucerys's smile was gone from his mind, now there was only the devastating anger in Jacaerys's eyes.

The same cinnamon eyes of his beloved.

Same, yet so different. Lucerys's eyes would never look at him with such emotion. Not with hate. Never. He didn't lookef at him like that before, not even the night he took his eye.

''You know what, brother-in-law?'' He said, watching with amusement as Jacaerys got tense at 'Brother-in-law'. Well, as Helaena's husband, he indeed was his Brother in law. But both of them knew that wasn't what Aemond was implying. 

''I will tell you exactly what I told him. I will not give up on him unless he himself doesn't want me. Your thoughts on that are irrelevant to me.'' For a moment, there was silence. Then, ''I love him.” Aemond said softly.

Jace took a step forward until they were almost nose to nose. “I didn’t ask about your feelings,” he hissed. “Your feelings mean nothing.”

Aemond’s eye narrowed slightly. “You truly believe,” he said, quiet but sharp, “that I do not love him?”

Jacaerys let out a short, bitter laugh, rolling his eyes. “Do you think I’d be fool enough to believe that? You’ve lived your whole life for vengeance, Aemond. And now you say it’s love? Hah. Who would ever believe such a lie?”

Aemond drew in a long breath—not only to swallow his rage, but to steady his heart. His gaze fixed on some distant point before returning to Jace.

“Vengeance… yes. For years I thought that was all there was. Hatred. Rage. But did any of you ever tried to ask why?” he said, his voice rough, stripped of all pretense.

Jacaerys frowned. ''Being blinded was not a reason for you to be angry?'' he said sarcastically.

Aemond shrugged. ''Not really, no. I gained Vhagar. An eye for a dragon. He was 6. I don't give a flying fuck, truth be told. Well, I was angry because I felt betrayed. If it were you, I would have killed you somehow already,'' he said with a dark smile.

Jacaerys snorted. ''As if you could, cunt.''

Aemond shrugged, then added nonchalantly, ''I figured that I got insane after I realized my anger wasn't taking root of my half-blindness. It instead is that was him doing it.''

Jacaerys rolled his eyes. Aemond ignored him and kept speaking. ''I had always felt drawn to him, even before we presented. Then I quickly understood that it was no normal attraction. I was scared that if I loved a man, the faith and whole Realm would be against it. So I decided to steal him away or to burn the Realm to the ground, if he accepted me. I was prepared for it. I am prepared for it. I don't give a fuck about your blessing or not. All I care is what he wants. And, the matter of his eyes... I don't want revenge, how many times do I have to tell you! I would never try to take them! It is a horrendous lie fabricated to keep my beloved omega away from me!''

Jacaerys looked frustrated. Aemond smiled, enjoying his anger. Then, Jacaerys's face distorted into this familiar, awfully disgusting, cruel expression. The one he had just before while he bullied him with Aegon. 

Aemond wanted to gouge both his eyes out and to carve this smile off of him with his knife.

''Do you really think my brother would love you? Love you? You are just a delusional bastard. Whether you love my brother truly or not doesn't matter, as he has no love for you. And he will never have any.'' Jacaerys had a dark and vicious chuckle. ''Look at you... You are just a pathetic one-eyed bastard that is in love with his maimer; which I don't really believe too by the way, maybe you just want his inheritance? You are the second son of dowager queen, you are a nobody. Why would my sweet brother love you?''

Aemond only stared at his face. Jacaerys was his tormentor along with his elder brother Aegon throughout their childhood. He hated him and viciously bullied him whenever possible. He had though of this, too. Why? Why was he hating him so much? He then started to form some theories. Now, it was the time to test it.

''Interesting. Why would your 'Sweet brother' not love me? You left the fact that I am the strongest fighter of the Realm, which I proved just this morning, and the rider of the biggest Dragon of the world? I do have inheritances in Old Town. Hmm. Why are you so against the idea of him loving me? Maybe it indeed is true that Helaena loved me before, so you are afraid of losing Lucerys to me as well?''

Jacaerys seemed even more furious. Aemond smiled. Viciously. It was his turn, from now on.

''So you tormented me because she loved me instead?'' He said with a dangerous tone. Jacaerys gripped his blade. Aemond smiled condescendingly. ''Well, I cannot judge her. I am and I was a better option than you. I always will be. You always will be under my shadow, even if you become king one day!''

''Shut the fuck up.''

''You liked him too, didn't you? My Lucerys. Then you loved my sister. Both of them had their eyes on me. Oh, how pathetic you are, little Jacaerys.''

Jacaerys seemed like he was trying to collect his composure but failing repeatedly. Aemond loved this, he loved seeing Jacaerys suffer.

''I have brotherly love for Lucerys. I just don't want my brother near a dangerous and violent son-of-a-bitch like you. And Helaena... She only held brotherly love to you, too. She loves me. But, I indeed confess that I thought so before, and thus I treated you badly. I do not regret it, though.''

Aemond shrugged. ''I do not regret trying to kill you back then, too.''

Yes, so he indeed was right. Jace had misunderstood his good relationship with his sister and decided to torment him for it. And, he also felt like losing his younger brother to him. Too bad for him that he will do everything that he can to make the latter happen. He knew Helaena didn't have any romantic feelings for him ever, but he wanted to trigger Jacaerys anyway. And, it seemed they had really good communication between each other. Just as Helaena told him so.

Not so bad, brother-in-law, he thought. He hated Jacaerys with all of his heart, but he knew when to respect another alpha for their devotion of their omega. He could kill Jacaerys now and would not feel any personal remorse for it (he only would feel remorse for his sister being a widow, that's it), but he also would trust his sister to him without any hesitation.

Jacaerys also could hate him for all he cares. But, everyone in this fucking Realm shall see his devotion to Lucerys. Jacaerys too. And, Jacaerys trusting him about his brother would have an immense positive impact over Aemond about Lucerys's impression of him. So, he didn't give a shit about anything else at that moment.

Silence lingered between them before Aemond spoke again, low and deliberate.
“Years ago,” he said, almost in a whisper laced with restrained fury, “you wished to marry my sister. Do you remember?”

Jace snorted. “How could I ever forget anything about Helaena? What does that have to do with this?”

“It has everything to do with this,” Aemond answered, his tone rising for the first time. “Because they told you the same words once—‘Forget her.’ ‘She isn’t yours.’ ‘Don’t touch her.’ 'Stay away!' And yet, you didn’t yield. Not even to my elder brother, her betrothed.”

When Aegon was mentioned, Jace’s teeth clenched, his fists curling tight—he hit a nerve, again. Heh. Aemond pressed on.

“Everyone turned from you. None believed your heart. They thought you sought Helaena only for the crown. But you proved them wrong—even my mother saw it. You stayed by her. You fought for her. Against everyone.”

He stepped closer, his voice softening, each word sinking deeper.
“And now you tell me that feelings don’t matter. But you, of all people, know the truth—feelings are where everything begins.”

“Lucerys isn’t someone you can feel for,” Jacaerys said hoarsely. “He’s my brother.”

“And Helaena is my sister,” Aemond spat, his voice almost trembling with scorn. “Yet you looked at her differently—and no one’s forgotten that. And now, yours is one of the strongest marriages in the realm.”

Jace took a step back. Silence stretched taut between them like a drawn bow.

Aemond swallowed hard before he spoke again, more composed now, though his words cut deeper for it.
“I want Lucerys because nothing else makes me feel alive. His gaze alone is worth a lifetime. And even if he never looks at me again, I will still look at him. As you once looked at Helaena—against all odds, against all sense. I will do the same.”

Jacaerys’s fists clenched once more, his breath unsteady. Yet his voice stayed low.
“The difference between us, Aemond,” he said carefully, “is that I protected Helaena. I never frightened her. I was her safe haven.”

Aemond snorted. ''I haven't forgot the days which she avoided you like plague. And I wanted nothing more than keeping Lucerys by my side and safe.'' Aemond said, his voice raw but sincere. “Lucerys has hurt me deeply, and yes—I wanted to hurt him back. But I don’t anymore. I don’t want pain. I just want him. I want to be his safe haven. One day, you’ll see.”

Jacaerys shook his head, exhaling sharply through his nose.
“Then at least know this,” he said. “If you ever harm Lucerys again, you’ll wish you were dead before I find you. And, I will find you.”

Aemond smiled—a small, broken thing. “The thought of hurting him,” he murmured, “is already worse than death.” then he kept talking with a sterner voice. ''I will treat you like you treat Helaena.''

Jacaerys smiled for the first time, a real smile. Aemond smiled at him too. It was the first time their smiles towards each other wasn't as hostile.

''Lucerys is no ordinary omega. He is a Targaryen Prince, a Strong Lord. If you ever forget about this, he will burn you to the ground. If you make him cry even once, hurt him even the slightest, I will have your head and presonally put it into a spike, I swear it. I know from experience, you most likely won't stay away. So, I have a question for you. What would you do if he never wants you?''

Aemond felt immense pain, even when just thinking about it. But this was a possibility he thought of often, so he answered without any hesitation.

''If he never wants me and stays unmarried... I will be his sworn shield. Or, I will protect him from shadows for the rest of my life. If he marries someone else, well. I don't think I can bare to see him happy with another man. But, if he wouldn't be worthy of him, if he hurts him even once, I would kill the bastard. If he were happy, I would pray for his happiness and would just leave to somewhere I can't see his happiness''

The other alpha sighed. ''Why are you making it harder for me to hate you?! You cunt. Swear it to me, I want my brother safe. Swear that you would never hurt him and you would always respect his decisions.''

Aemond smiled. His own words from years ago echoed in his mind.

'Swear to me, you bastard.' He had said to him, with his juvenile voice cracking. 'Swear that you would never hurt her and you would always respect her decisions!'

'' I swear it. To the old gods and the new. To Valyrian gods. To Vhagar.'' He swore the same to Lucerys too earlier the night. But he could swear it to anyone and everyone in the Realm if it meant Lucerys would feel safe around him.

Jacaerys said nothing. He just extended his hand. Aemond shook his hand. ''It's not like I am against or in favor for your love towards him. I wasn't really sure about your intentions but the mad sparkle in your eye is telling, I must confess. Try your luck among many suitors my brother has. Do not announce your love to everyone anymore, he is scared, leave him be.'' He sighed. ''Also, congratulations over your victory today.'' 

Aemond watched him go. He was surprised. Their conversation was much more pleasant than he expected. He leaned against the cold stone wall. He could still feel Lucerys’s touch burning in his palms. He went to his chambers, having a pleasant sleep.

When Lucerys woke up, he ordered his breakfast to his chambers. He didn't wanted to see Aemond this morning again. For fuck's sake. All he wanted to do is to calm his fried nerves. 

When he ate it all, he felt refreshed. Damn. 2 days ago... It was a very, very wild day. All he wanted to do now was to have a gossip session with Joff and Rhaena. Because, all three of them had bewildering experiences 2 days ago.

He spend all of his time in his chambers. All of his family members except for Aemond visited him and made sure he was okay. He indeed was okay, he just didn't wanted to see anyone for a day. He even made a promise to gossip about the wild day with Joffrey and Rhaena. (Jace and Baela wanted to join too, but they refused him. It was a 'omega only' operation with great confidentiality, after all.)

He knew these two were as addicted to gossiping as he was. So, it was a matter of time these two would barge into his chambers.

When his door was knocked a few moments later, Lucerys smiled knowingly to himself. Two omegas barged in, never even asking if it is alright to come in.

His smile widened when Joffrey and Rhaena jumped to his bed. Two of them shouted in unison: ''WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED THE DAY BEFORE YESTERDAY!''

Lucerys sighed, still smiling. ''I know, a lot had happened...''

Rhaena and Joffrey quickly ordered servants to bring some refections. Servants quickly returned with lemon and orange cakes and honeyed fruits with some nice-flavored teas. Then the gossip session began.

''WHAT THE FUCK WAS AEMOND THINKING ABOUT?!''

''I SAW MARIS OFFERING TO DANCE WITH YOU RHAENA!''

''JOFFREY, WHEN IS YOUR WEDDING TO DAERON!''

All of them said in unison, then they burst into laughter. 

''Damn,'' Rhaena said while showing an orange cake into her mouth. The crumbles fell into Lucerys's bed, but he couldn't care less. ''So, we have 3 topics to discuss. Which one should we start with?''

Joffrey and Lucerys looked at each other. Lucerys knew what he was thinking about. And he was certain Joffrey knew his thoughts, too. They turned to Rhaena with a slight smile on their face. Rhaena sighed and rolled her eyes affectionately (she was the only person capable of adding emotions into eye-rolling, by the way, Lucerys thought.)

''Okay, so... Maris Baratheon offered me a dance.''

The male omegas wiggled their eyebrows. Rhaena grimaced.

''Anyway... She was pleasant in my opinion.''

Joffrey groaned. ''Come ooon. Pleasant?! I saw you, you were swooning in her arms! What happened to Corwyna?''

Rhaena sighed unhappily. ''Well... I saw her dancing with a man. They were in very close proximity I should say.'' Joffrey ate a honeyed apple slice and spoke with his mouth full, making his elder siblings groan in disgust. ''Sorry to tell you that, but she was dancing with Gunthor Royce. He is a well known man-whore. I believe they left the hall together too. I think you should screw Corwyna! She isn't worthy of you!''

Joffrey was 'The Greatest Corwyna Hater' or so he named himself. But he had to win against Lucerys for this first. Even if he respected her as a widowed mother, he had no symphaty for her other than that. He hated her because she was flirting with every omega and man. She flirted with Rhaena once, too, to ditch her and flirt with another after 10 minutes. 

There was no way he could love the bitch who made his sister cry. Joffrey was pretty much the same, if he did not hate her more.

Also, she was dull in beauty and she was old for Rhaena. She already had 2 previous marriages and a little boy! Why would she be worthy of their precious sister, the omega daughter of Daemon Targaryen and Laena Velaryon!

Rhaena smiled bitterly. ''I know I should give up on liking her. She isn't worthy of me in any aspect, I do know. However, emotions don't die out that easily. But, maybe this should be a sign for me. Maybe I should let this unrequited love go.''

Joffrey instantly had a sly smile. ''Why, is there a certain person who made you think that?''

Rhaena had a shy smile on her face. And... was her cheeks also a little bit red? Hehee.

''Well... Maris was not that bad.''

The male omegas said 'OOOOO'. Rhaena facepalmed. Why were her brothers acting like they were 5 all the time?! Also, they didn't had any right to tease her, their gossip materials were way bigger then hers!

So, it was time to change directions. 

''So, Joffrey.'' she said with a triumphant smile. Joffrey gulped. ''You and Daeron were pretty close that day. I saw Daeron defending you from the lecherous Aegon bastard. And then you danced pretty sensually. And don't think I didn't noticed you only danced with Daeron!''

Joffrey was crimson red. His freckles were completely gone on his cheeks. He looked adorable. Lucerys pinched his cheek, gaining a frown from the younger omega. He felt a bit sorry. He was very stressed out at that day, so he actually couldn't notice many details about the feast. But it also wasn't everyday that his (once, of course) favorite uncle confessed his love and crowning him with Crown of Love and Beauty... Damn. He felt his own cheeks redden. He tried not to think about it.

''Oh, so Joffrey... Confess it already. You like Daeron!''

Joffrey gave in. He sighed. ''Okay. Yes, I do like him. I guess. A little. Happy now?!''

Lucerys nodded solemnly. ''Absolutely. And I think he likes you back.''

Joffrey groaned. ''Can we change the topic?! And, don't you dare stray away from the elephant in the room, brother. Tell us what happened two days prior. I heard from Jace that he was serious in pursuing you!''

Lucerys sighed.

''Yes!'' said Rhaena. ''You should tell us what happened two days prior properly!''

That, he did. He told his siblings about the encounter at kingswood and the dance. When he finished, both of them were stunned. Then, Rhaena looked at him in the eye, her lilac eyes shining with concern. ''What do you feel about all this?''

Lucerys exhaled, frustrated. ''I truly have no idea.''

Joffrey smiled at him. ''It's okay. Nobody has to understand their feelings towards people or situations immediately. You have time. You can process it slowly. There absolutely have no need to consume and blame yourself. He was very overbearing about his emotions. And, you were scared of him for years. Guilt was eating you from inside all this time. This won't change in a day, obviously. And you don't have to believe his sincerity right away.''

''Alphas should prove themselves to the omegas they want, anyway'' added Rhaena. ''If you do not want him near you at all, all of us will ensure exactly that happens. If you are not sure, then try talking to him more. You said he swore that he would never hurt you, right? He even swore that to Jacaerys. I do not know him at all, but no Targaryen would break a vow on their dragon. So, you just consider him a regular suitor and be done with it. You have zero obligations and zero accountability. You owe him nothing, or anyone, that is. Do not forget that.'' 

Lucerys squeezed her arm thankfully. Besides being siblings, Joffrey and Rhaena were his closest friends. However, Rhaena was his best friend. She always read him like an open book, spilling the contents of his thoughts out of his head with ease. Joffrey had a sharp but honest tongue. He would always say the truth, even if he could be harsh time to time, Luke knew he always meant good.

He really was thankful to all gods that Rhaena and Joffrey were his siblings. 

''Thank you for your advice, both of you. I... will think about it. But maybe shutting him off would be a wrong move. Because, what if everything he said is true? What if the strongest alpha in the Realm is actually in love with me? I would die out of curiosity if I shut him down now, anyway.''

Rhaena put on a crooked smile. She is up to no good, oh gods, Lucerys thought.

''Besides... You never leaved your favorite uncle's side when we were children, no? And, while you stayed at King's Landing a year after the incident, weren't you always talking about Aemond in the letters you sent me? And, after your return, didn't you cry yourself to sleep for 2 weeks straight because you missed him? And-''

Lucerys covered his sisters mouth. Joffrey was pointing a finger to him and was laughing out loud. He was scattering lemon cake crumbs everywhere while doing so. When he looked at the window at his left, he froze.

He was an angry shape of red. Even his ears weren't spared.

He withdrew his hand from Rhaena's mouth -who was laughing too, by the way- and put his face into his hands. ''Uggghhhhhh'' he grunted, making his siblings laugh even more. Damn them both.

Then, his door was knocked again. The servants came in, announcing the presence of Jacaerys. Lucerys beamed and let his eldest brother in.

Jace entered the room with a smile. He wasn't alone, Lucerys thought pleasantly. Little Maelor and Viserys was here with him, on his two shoulders. Lucerys stood up and hug his brother. Jace couldn't hug him back because he was holding the kids, but the children hugged him instead.

Joffrey shouted, scattering even more cake crumbs. ''Jaceeeeeeeee. My dearest brotheeeer. Why would you come to this twat's chambers and hug him first??! Am I not your favorite brother anymore?!''

Jace smiled at Joff and put the children to the ground. Then he came and bear-hugged him. ''Aw, nonsense. Everybody knows that Lucerys is not my favorite brother.'' 

Joffrey sticked his tongue at Lucerys. Lucerys swore at him. 

''My favorite siblings is Viserys. Right, lad?''

This rendered the male omegas speechless. Rhaena started cackling again, and little Viserys beamed and hugged the leg of his eldest brother.

''My favorite is you too, Jace.'' He said with his milky voice. Jace cooed at him and embraced Viserys, lifting him up. Then, because he didn't want his son to be left out, he put him in his embrace as well. Maelor and Viserys's giggles filled the chambers. Even servants smiled at this.

''Anyway,'' said Jace. ''I knew I would find you all here. You all had many things to gossip about, after all- but why didn't you invite me? You guys are hurtful bastards.''

''Bad word!'' Screamed little Maelor. Jacaerys smiled sheepishly. ''Please do not tell your mother that, hehe.'' Maelor ignored him and sucked his thumb, which made Jace a bit scared. He was scared of the wrath of his wife.

''Don't worry, brother.'' Lucerys said with an angelic smile. ''I will tell Helaena about this for sure.''

Jacaerys muttered in his smile. 'I hate you.'

Lucerys muttered back. 'I know.'

Rhaena giggled at them. Her brothers were silly.

Jace then looked at her. ''Rhaena, do you want me to beat Corwyna or go talk to Maris-''

Rhaena groaned. ''Please! Not you too, please!''

Jace gave her a boyish smile. ''What, is it a crime to tease my sister?'' Then, his face and tone become more serious. ''I came here to fetch you guys up. Joff and Rhae, you guys are going to find Daemon. I don't know why he summoned you, but please tell me if you are in trouble. I'd like to make fun of you.''

Joffrey and Rhaena rolled their eyes at him, making Jace even happier. ''Luke. You are coming with me. We will inspect the fighter's of the tournament together.''

''And we will talk'' Lucerys finished his elder brother's sentence in his mind. He nodded. ''If you all would get out, I will get dressed.''

Jace shrugged, still cuddling the boys. ''Okay, boys. Say goodbye to Luke.''

Kids wave at him. ''Bye Lukeeee''. Lucerys waved them back.

Rhaena and Joffrey also exited after Jace. They seemed a bit nervous. Lucerys wondered what happened.

Then he shrugged and started dressing up after the servants draw a bath for him. He felt like he had a long day ahead of him. 

He hoped he was wrong.

Chapter Text

The Red Keep’s stone courtyard was silent in the first hours of dawn.
A thin mist clung between the towering black walls of the castle, ghostly and unmoving. In the distance, a few servants and guards had already begun their morning duties.

Benjicot would be leaving on the morrow, now that the tourney was over, and he had chosen to spend his final day not in idleness but in practice — sparring alongside the guards and remaining champions of the lists.

Truth be told, after the disastrous feast two nights before, he had wanted to speak with Lucerys. Yet the young prince had been seated only at the royal table, and Benjicot had found no opportunity to approach him.
He was certain the poor omega had been deeply unsettled by his dreadful uncle’s unwelcome attentions. If only he could've save him from that cunt... He was in heavy regret, but how could he turn down the dance offer of the Crown Princess? The Crown Princess seemed to did so to make Lucerys dance with her brother.

Benjicot grit his teeth.

He remembered their childhood...
Ever since that day at Driftmark, Lucerys had refused to take up a sword.
Not that an omega was ever required to—after all, it was the duty of alphas to protect them.

Poor Luke. And now that madman whoreson Aemond was aiming him.
Benjicot did not truly believe Aemond would dare to harm him—not when Lucerys was the Queen’s son, and Daemon Targaryen himself stood beside him.
Yet jealousy and unease coiled within him all the same.
Daemon Targaryen would, sooner or later, take Aemond’s head… but until then, Aemond would still breathe the same air as Lucerys.

Infuriating.

He had spoken with Queen Rhaenyra herself the day before, seeking a reason to delay his departure — the audience had taken some effort to secure, but he’d managed — and still, no permission to remain had been granted.
On the contrary, he had been informed of some quarrel between House Strong and the Blackwoods, and that his early return was expected to ensure matters did not worsen.

He could not risk discord between his house and that of his late mentor. And one day, Lucerys would be lord there.

Even so, Benjicot was not wholly uneasy; Daemon had assured him that all was under control when he sought to warn the King and Queen of Aemond’s behavior.
Yes — Daemon would handle it. Luke would be safe.

He had to be.

That morning, save for Cregan Stark, Dalton Greyjoy, Sara Snow, and Jeyne Arryn who had departed at first light  most of the champions had gathered once more for a final bout of training before their farewells.
One of the Red Keep’s finest yards had been granted for their use, and Benjicot, among others, was well content.

Of course, a few were notably absent — the Targaryen knights foremost among them.
But no one was surprised. The royal family had their hands full now that Rhaenyra had newly ascended the throne.
Benjicot only hoped that wretched, pale bastard Aemond was busy enough to keep far from Lucerys.

His aunt Alysanne was chatting idly with Sabitha Frey; Maris Baratheon was sparring—if one could call a it that—with Daerea Velaryon. No. Crushing her was the better term, Benjicot thought dryly.

Still, he found a certain satisfaction in watching Daerea lose, for she too had set her sights on Lucerys once. Rumor said Luke had rebuffed her soundly for years. As expected from Harwin Strong's son, he was very adamant when needed. 

Kermit and Oscar Tully approached, offering their greetings. Benjicot smiled, though the smile never reached his eyes. He no longer felt the warmth he once had toward them — and that, too, was linked to Lucerys. Kermit, like so many alphas before him, had tried to court Luke and been turned away.

Benjicot had suffered the same fate — on the very first day of the tourney, after the archery rounds. Lucerys had told him he did not see him that way. But that could change… couldn’t it? Surely, he still had a better chance than most.

Even better than Aemond bastard. Who knew Luke as well as he did, after all?

After some idle talk, the Tully brothers returned to their own sparring. Benjicot’s gaze wandered to the far side of the yard. Donnel Hill was wreaking havoc again, matching both Lyonel and Gwayne Hightower at once.

How easily Aemond bested him… crushed that mountain of a man like he was nothing, Benjicot thought bitterly.
And he had even managed to defeat Daemon Targaryen himself—and place third in archery.
What manner of man was that damned Aemond Targaryen? He hated him with a burning passion. Why couldn't he just... die? He thought to himsefl. 

Then suddenly, all movement in the yard ceased. Every head turned left.
Benjicot followed their gaze—and cursed inwardly.
Speak of the devil, and the beast appears.

Aemond Targaryen stood at the edge of the field, clad entirely in black. From his hip hung a sword with an ebony hilt.
That sharp, cutting voice of his filled the air, chilling everyone's spines:

“Training, are we? My lords, my ladies?”

Benjicot realized his fists had clenched of their own accord.
Aemond was not known to mingle with others. Therefore, his presence here meant something. He doubted it would be something good.

The hush that followed his arrival was like the silence before a storm.
Each champion instinctively took a step back. Donnel Hill and Gwayne Hightower both flinched.
Maris Baratheon lowered her bow; others followed suit, abandoning their practice in wary quiet.

Aemond strode forward, measured and deliberate. His eye scanned everyone here while rousing an uncanny feeling. His eye was looking at them with disdain, with contempt. Benjicot felt even angrier.

He opened his black gloved hands to his sides. ''I wished not to disturb your training. Contrarily, I wanted to join you.''

No one spoke. Then, a reluctant Lyonel Hightower spoke, most courageous of them it seemed: ''Of course My Prince. Cousin. Your presence here is appreciated.''

Aemond smiled coolly. Lyonel immediately shut up. The Prince definitely disliked being called 'Cousin'. But he chose not to comment on it. Instead, he just unsheathed his sword.

What happened next was a literal disaster. He stated that he wished to duel against every single one of them one by one. Nobody thought a single person could win all of these fights, even if that person was Aemond Targaryen.

But he had won against 4 people already. And none of them were easy wins, or at least, none of them should be easy wins.

But they were.

Maris Baratheon, put to the ground with ease. Daerea Velaryon wasn't strong, but she was massacred by Aemond. Donnel Hill wanted to take revenge and found himself on the floor instead. Kermit Tully was the second best resistance against Aemond, after Maris, but he also didn't stood a chance.

Among the volunteers, there were only 2 of them left who didn't fight Aemond yet: Oscar Tully and Benjicot. Benjicot had an unnerving idea of why they were the last ones. They were suitors of Lucerys, too (even if they were rejected. It still counts, he thought). He most likely attended here for the sole purpose of beating the other suitors.

Benjicot felt a chill down his spine, again. Then heard the footsteps of two person, and including Aemond everyone looked at their direction.

Crown Prince was there, along with his younger brother Lucerys.

Benjicot couldn't take his eyes off of Lucerys this time, too. 

He stood before them bathed in soft daylight — fair-skinned, with a scatter of freckles that only made him more captivating. His hair, a tousled mess of cinnamon curls, brushed against his temples and danced in the wind as if it, too, refused to be tamed. His eyes, the same color as his hair, held a warmth that made it hard to look away.

He wore a simple white tunic, cinched at the waist with a black leather belt that emphasized his lean frame. The tunic fell just enough to meet the top of his black pants, which tucked neatly into a pair of polished riding boots. It was a practical outfit — unassuming, even — yet on him, it became something entirely different. There was a quiet allure in his ease, in the way every movement seemed unstudied but effortlessly graceful.

Perhaps it was the wind in his hair, or the glint of sunlight on his freckles, but in that moment, he was nothing short of breathtaking.

His elder brother shared the same warm cinnamon hair and eyes, though on him they carried a cooler, steadier sort of strength. There were no freckles softening his features; instead, his face was clear-cut, the lines of his jaw and cheekbones giving him a sharp, princely composure. He was taller and broader than his younger brother — the kind of man who seemed to fill a room without needing to speak.

Son of Harwin Strong. Breakbones through and through.

Where the younger brother’s charm was in his easy grace, the elder’s presence was one of quiet command. His posture was straight, his movements deliberate, as if he were accustomed to being obeyed without ever raising his voice. There was something noble in the way he carried himself — not vanity, but certainty.

He didn’t need to draw attention; it came to him naturally, like gravity. And though I could see the resemblance between them, there was no mistaking the difference — his younger brother was the kind of man one would definitely fall for, a beauty that is worth starting and ending wars for. But when it came to Crown Prince Jacaerys, you simply respected his presence.

His eyes found Aemond's. He was looking at Lucerys with such an emotion that 'Obsession' and 'Hunger' would not suffice to explain it. He simply looked ready to do anything the omega asks him to. He wanted to rip his remaining eye off of his socket.

''Is the training yard to your liking, Lords and Ladies?'' said Jacaerys with a charismatic smile. Everyone affirmed him that it is, then Jacaerys smiled again.

''Nephews,'' greeted Aemond. When Jacaerys turned to Aemond, his eyes instantly got cold. Benjicot tried so hard to suppress his smile. Good. Crown prince was here with Luke, so this lecher could never make a move to him now. But he also felt disgusted by the fact that Aemond wanted to fuck wis own nephew. What a sick man!

''Prince Aemond'' Jacaerys greeted back. ''What a pleasant morn.''

Aemond agreed ''Yes indeed, My Prince.''

Benjicot looked at Lucerys again. He seemed stoic, but Benjicot knew him. He must be so scared! He must be so overwhelmed by this disgusting piece of shit! As an omega, he was protected well by his alpha brother now. But Benjicot also wanted to be next to him, protecting him... If only Lucerys wanted so...

''Have you finished the training?''

''No, My Prince.'' answered Maris Baratheon. The Crown Prince smiled. ''Very well. Then me and Prince Lucerys shall watch the remaining of the training.''

There was a silence in the yard. Someone had to answer, so Benjicot did: ''It would be our pleasure, My Princes.'' Aemond snorted, but he refused to pay him mind.

Jacaerys and Lucerys sat to a seat placed by the servants and when everyone was about to start training, Aemond's uncanny voice cut through: ''I was dueling with every volunteered champion one by one. Only two people remained. Ser Tully, would you like to fight?''

Lucerys' eyebrows shot up. He seemed impressed by it. Damn this bastard. He deliberately said what he did, so that he could impress the omega. Motherfucker.

But Benjicot had an idea. He was a realistic man, he knew he would never win a fight against Aemond easily. But the man had fought against 4 foes. And one of them was  Maris fucking Baratheon. He could win this!

Before Oscar Tully could say anything, he made eye contact with Lucerys and said: ''If you dont mind, we can duel first, Prince Aemond.''

Aemond had a ghost of a smile, but it quickly disappeared. Lucerys looked at him with worried eyes. 'Great' thought Benjicot internally. 'Even if some miracle occurs and I lose, then my sweet prince would be there to soothe me. This is a perfect plan!'

Aemond was watching Lucerys as intently as him. But he didn't care. Lucerys was offering his hand to him, not to the cunt of a prince. Benjicot tried not to put his weight to the Prince's delicate hand, but he was surprised by the strength of the arm who pulled him to his feet. His voice was soft but firm: “Are you hurt, Lord Blackwood?”

Aemond walked between Jacaerys and Lucerys, though his steps veered ever so slightly toward the younger prince.

Jace gestured toward an inner garden.
“If you’re searching for a place where no one might overhear us, this should suffice.”

Aemond inclined his head in agreement but said nothing.
Lucerys waited in silence. This time, it seemed, he would be the one to speak.

As they entered the garden, Jace remained by the door. The air was heavy with the scent of orange blossoms, spilling in from the grand orchard beyond. Pale sunlight filtered through the ivy that climbed the stone walls, bathing the three princes in a soft, golden glow.

In that fleeting hush, Aemond found himself thinking how faint the orange fragrance was beside the scent that clung to Lucerys — sharp and warm, like sunlight caught in storm winds. It was because of that thought that he was slow to react when Lucerys’s voice broke through the stillness.

“Why did you do it?” Lucerys demanded suddenly, his voice clear and steady as steel drawn from its sheath.

Aemond exhaled — quietly and carefully. Gods, how that anger stirred him inside...

Cinnamon, citrus, fire and blood — that was how his fury smelled.
“Gods help me,” Aemond thought, “he should not be this beautiful when he’s angry. Nor should his anger make me want him more.”

He took a step forward but said nothing. Lucerys frowned. “Let’s speak plainly, Qybor. What crime had Benjicot committed? Don’t tell me you were only sparring.”

Aemond smiled faintly, though there was no mockery in it. “No crime,” he said quietly. “Only the audacity to draw too near to you.”

At that, Jacaerys stepped sharply between them, fury bright in his eyes. “And who are you,” he hissed, “to think you have any right to interfere? My brother owes you nothing—not his heart, nor his patience for your childish games. Stay away from him.”

Aemond sighed softly. “Do you recall, Jacaerys, my dear brother by law, that we once had this same quarrel years ago? And do you recall how that ended?”

Lucerys’s temper flared anew as he stepped forward from behind his brother. “Helaena and Jace loved each other! You have no right to act as if you hold such claim over me. Leave me be!”

Aemond’s gaze faltered, the steel in his eye dimming into something almost fragile. His voice came low, uncertain. “It was never my intent to meddle in your affairs…”

Lucerys turned away, his anger causing trembling in his shoulders. “I don't believe you.” he said. He brushed his cinnamon locks with utmost anger.

Then, he continued: ''You did meant to meddle my life! Alphas are all like that. You think that you can do whatever you want' That you can interfere my life because you feel affection or lust or whatever the fuck to me! But you cannot! I said nothing to your public proposal because I wanted Targaryens united and I won't get in the way of the peace my mother worked so hard for! Not because I was pleased by it! You are overbearing and you dictate your feelings to me, stay away from me!''

“No—please,” Aemond said, his voice breaking. “Don’t mistake me. I didn’t mean to interfere. I lost control. Lucerys… I’m- I'm sorry.”

For a heartbeat, silence claimed them all. Both Jace and Luke looked at him in stunned disbelief. Never before had they seen Aemond like this—his pride stripped away, his composure shattered, desperation trembling in his voice.

Lucerys’s anger softened, just slightly. The man standing before him scarcely resembled the cold, unyielding warrior he had known. This Aemond looked almost boyish—panicked, undone. Like the kid who smiled at him with delight at the library.

Lucerys tried not to be moved by it. When Aemond took another tentative step forward, Jace thrust out an arm like a shield, barring his path.

“Enough,” he said in a low, dangerous tone. “Whether you meant to meddle or not, you will keep your distance. He said so himself. Stay away from him.”

Aemond’s eye found Lucerys’s again, but there was no defiance left in them—only pleading. “I am not trying to control you, Lucerys,” he murmured. “Only—grant me a chance. Let me court you. Let me prove how much I value you.”

Before Jacaerys or Lucerys could respond, the garden door opened with a soft creak, and all three princes turned.

Stepping through the archway came none other than the Crown Princess Helaena Targaryen. She moved as though she had known they would be there all along.

She wore a gown of pale lavender stitched with silver thread, and her silver hair was braided, though a few wisps had come loose to dance in the breeze. Yet what truly caught their eyes were her lilac eyes—cool, calm, and sharp as polished glass. Very unlike her usual, dreamy eyes.

The hardness in Jacaerys’s face melted the instant he saw her. His shoulders eased, his brow unfurrowed. When Helaena drew near, he beamed and smiled—tenderly.

“My love,” he whispered. Helaena met his gaze, and her eyes also looked at him with tenderness. However, her eyes haven't stayed on his for long. She looked at her brother, instead.

But Helaena did not meet his gaze. Her eyes found only her brother.

Aemond lifted his head, and for a moment he looked very young—like a child caught in guilt. Lucerys remained frozen, and Jace’s face clouded with quiet hurt at his wife’s distance.

“This quarrel,” Helaena began calmly, “has gone on long enough, don’t you think?”

None of them spoke. She sighed and continued, “Jacaerys—you are my husband. Aemond, you are my brother. Lucerys, you are both my nephew and my brother-in-law. Thus, I am perhaps the only one here who may speak without choosing a side. So listen to me.”

The Targaryen princes obeyed, the rare sternness in her voice commanding silence more swiftly than a blade.

Then, suddenly with her usual dreaminess she added: ''But first, I would like to eat some snacks and drink tea. Would you mind?''

Who were they to mind? Jacaerys quickly went to find a servant and returned. The servants came with a steaming teapot, fresh cheese and Helaena's signature blackberry tarts.

Lucerys's mouth watered. He couldn't eat any of them at the feast, thanks to Aemond. He definitely wont miss the chance to eat those heavenly tarts again.

When Helaena calmly put some creamy cheese and blackberry tart into her plate and sipped his tea, she turned to her husband. Jacaerys smiled like a fool, but her expression was pretty stern. “Husband,” she said, her tone sharpening, “you stand here condemning Aemond—but have you forgotten? Years ago, after what Aegon did, you knelt before my father, before Rhaenyra and my mother, and begged: ‘I am begging you, wed Helaena to me.’ Did you not keep vigil outside my door for days, writing me letters, showering me in the realm’s finest jewels until I agreed to marry you?”

Jace looked abashed, though there was still a hint of pride beneath his guilt.

Aemond and Lucerys exchanged a glance—neither had known the tale in such detail.

“And tell me,” Helaena went on, her voice still level but edged with fire, “if someone had stood over you then, doubting your every word and judging you without pause, as you now judge Aemond—would that have pleased you?”

Aemond almost smiled. His sister could wield words like daggers when she wanted. Yet the moment her lilac gaze turned upon him, his smile faded. Indeed, she could be merciless—and this time, it was his turn to feel the cut.

“You, Aemond,” she said, her voice like cool glass, “you hated Lucerys once, after Driftmark. I remember well how you would not cease speaking of him—how that hatred turned, little by little, into something else. Do you truly expect anyone to understand such a change so swiftly?”

Aemond lowered his head.

Then her eyes softened as they found Lucerys. “And you, dear Lucerys. I understand your fear—your hesitation. But my brother is not the man you think he is. Between you lies a web of misjudgment and pride. I do not say you should choose him, nor that you should not. Only that you should see him—truly see him. Let him show you his heart, and decide then. To turn away without knowing would be a mistake I fear you might one day regret.”

Lucerys’s brow furrowed, but the sharpness in his expression had waned. Helaena’s words were not empty—they had slipped through the cracks of his defenses. He glanced briefly at Aemond, who met his eyes for a single heartbeat before looking away.

“I see,” Lucerys said at last, his tone still guarded but gentle. “Thank you, Princess.”

Helaena smiled softly, and the air seemed to sweeten again with the faint scent of lavender that followed her.

“Now, Jace, my love,” she said, turning to her husband. “Would you and Luke look in on Jaehaerys and Jaehaera for me? I would have a word with my brother alone.”

Jacaerys’s expression softened into a small, resigned smile. “Of course, my heart.” Soon he and Lucerys departed, leaving the garden quiet once more.

Aemond watched his sister with quiet affection. Of all the souls in the world, there were few he truly loved—and Helaena was one of them. Somehow, being with her always steadied him. Even in the darkest chapters of his childhood, she shone upon him like a sun. 

He didn't know what he would do if she wouldn't exist.

As she crossed the garden toward him, the lavender in the air grew sharper. The soft breeze played with the fabric of her gown and the loose strands of her silver hair. Aemond made room for her, and they sat side by side on a stone bench. For a time, neither spoke. They listened to the wind and the faint, distant song of birds.

At last, Aemond broke the silence, his voice softer, younger than usual. “Thank you, sister. What you said… it meant more to me than you know.”

Helaena turned to him with a gentle smile. “You’re not accustomed to being defended, are you?”

He didn’t answer at first, only sighed. “Few ever thought me worth defending. You are one of the rare few. For that, I thank you.”

Helaena studied him for a while, then brushed a hand through his hair affectionately. “Let me tell you something,” she said. “A Targaryen omega is not easy to love and to be loved, Aemond. We are forged in fire. Our minds are quick, our loyalties twisted and deep, our pride unyielding. We too are dragons and dragonriders—fire and blood, as much as any alpha before us. The Realm has seen it for many years.”

Aemond nodded. He had always cherished the stories of their ancestors. Therefore, he knew all about the great omegas of Targaryen history.

Conqueror Queens, Visenya of Vhagar and her sister Rhaenys of Meraxes. Their mother Valaena Velaryon.

Rhaena, first rider of Dreamfyre. Good Queen Alysanne of Silverwing. His grandmother Alyssa, first rider of Red Queen Meleys. Then Princess Rhenys, the queen who never was, second rider of Meleys. Vhagar's previous rider, Laena Velaryon. Queen Rhenyra with Syrax. Crown Princess Heleana, second rider of Dreamfyre.

Lucerys with Arrax, Joffrey with Tyraxes.

All dragons. All omegas. All immortalized (and will be immortalized) in the fire of their own legend. No other alphas could be capable of understanding them. Others would try to tame them. But they never were creatures to be tamed. 

He understood what Helaena meant now: Luke is a dragon. You cannot trap a dragon. Dragons are not slaves.

He smiled faintly. “I never meant to unsettle him,” he said. “It’s just—every time our eyes meet, I lose a little more of my mind.”

Helaena shook her head softly. “And that is why you must be careful. You cannot win a dragon by caging it, Aemond. Lucerys is no fragile blossom. He is bright and beautiful, yes—but at the first hint of your mistake, he won't hesitate to burn you to ash.”

Aemond buried his face in his hands. “What should I do, sister? What is the right thing to do?”

She pondered a moment, then spoke with clear tenderness. “First, stop trying to force what must grow on its own. Give him space to choose. If you drown him in your longing, he’ll never see you truly. That has been your gravest mistake, I think—Lucerys hears what you say, but he only believes what you do.”

Aemond nodded slowly. “So… I should stay away?”

Helaena smiled. “No. Restrain yourself, but do not retreat. Court him. With patience, with respect. Lower your gaze when you must, step back when you should—but never deny your love. Let him feel it, even if from afar. That, brother, is how dragons learn to trust one another.”

They sat in quiet for a time. Then Aemond murmured, “Thank you, Helaena.”

She smiled warmly, and he returned it.

“His heart,” he said after a pause, “is buried deep. I do not know how to find it—or how to hold it, if I do.”

“Then show him yours first,” Helaena replied gently. “If he finds it worthy, he will open his own.”

Aemond was silent for a moment longer, then rose to his feet. Gratitude—and a touch of peace—softened his features. “I’m glad you exist,” he said quietly.

Helaena stood as well and took his arm. “As am I, brother. Now come—let’s walk a while. Perhaps this day might end without further chaos.”

And together they walked from the garden, their figures bathed in the fading light and the scent of orange blossoms—leaving behind, in that still air, the faint shimmer of something newly reborn: hope.

Chapter Text

The chambers of Princess Helaena and Prince Jacaerys were unlike many other within the Red Keep. As in many of Westeros’s ancient strongholds, wedded couples were granted separate apartments of their own — yet at their heart lay a single bedchamber, shared and sacred, accessible only through two opposing doors, one from each side. Only the chosen servants of the pair held the keys, and none others dared intrude.

After the tiring day of meddling with their younger brother's affair in the morning and many other duties they had to attend, they finally had the opportunity to retire for the night.

Now, within that inner sanctum, beneath the hush of silk and shadow, the royal couple lay entwined. Their breaths still came unevenly — the air heavy with the lingering tremor of passion’s summit. Helaena smiled faintly as she felt the warmth of her husband within her, the thought of a new life quickening her heart. Perhaps, she hoped, the seed had taken root once more.

Her silver hair spilled across her shoulders and her husband's naked chest like molten moonlight. Her fingers traced idle circles over his skin, a motion unthinking yet tender. He caressed her back with his left hand, his touch carrying passion and compassion.

“You are quiet,” he murmured, his voice a low whisper against her hair. “Lost in thought.”
“I am thinking,” she replied softly.
“Of my performance?” he teased, a wry smile playing upon his lips.
A faint laugh escaped her, muffled against his chest. “No. Your performance doesn't lets me think. It blows any thought out of my mind.” She said with a mischievous tone. Jacaerys bring her chin up and kissed her passionately. She smiled into the kiss.

Breaking the kiss after who knows how long, Jacaerys looked straight into his wife's lilac eyes. Both of them were panting. ''Tell me, ābrazȳrys. What is preoccupying your mind?''

She sighed. He worriedly held her head with his hands. ''Is it the visions? You saw some grim prophecy? It is okay, my love. You know we can change the course of future with your guidance-''

''Don't worry, Valzȳrys.'' She said with a soft voice. She also caressed her husband's face. ''It wasn't a prophecy, let alone a grim one. I wasn't thinking of the future, but of the past.''

Jacaerys made a pained expression. Helaena had a bitter smile.

''I'm sorry... it is a fine night. I shouldn't have thought about the past. I shouldn't have talked about it. I shouldn-''

Jacaerys stopped his wife's fast ramblings with a kiss. When she closed her eyes to kiss him, a sob escaped her and a tear fell from her face.

Jacaerys embraced his wife, sitting now. ''You are my life companion. I love your good AND bad days. You shall never hesitate to talk to me. It's okay. I am here with you, always. Please tell me, my pretty girl. What happened? Did I upset you?''

Helaena abruptly denied. ''No, it has nothing to do with you. You only could be my source of happiness. I was thinking of... that night.''

Jacaerys felt his expression darkened. ''I am the Crown Prince. I can slay him. I don't care about being a kinslayer. I can exile him. Or force him to take the Black. I don't care how new my mother's rule is, that cocksucker needs to die.''

Helaena took a shaky breath in. ''Seeing him again after all these years didn't have a good effect on me it seems.'' she said with another tear falling from her eyes. Jacaerys felt excruciating pain and wiped her tears gently.

''He will leave. First thing in the morning. Or else, I will kill him. Either way, you won't see him ever again.''

Helaena kissed her husband's hand. ''You cannot kill him, Valzȳrys. Kinslaying is a great sin. The Realm would never follow a kinslayer King. Also, it doesn't worth it! Definitely so, for a person like Aegon!''

Jacaerys still kept the eye contact. ''I know, Issa rūklon. But, know that I would rather have my wife at peace then have the Realm in disarray.''

Helaena put her head on his chest, right onto his heart. His heart had fastened its rhythm. Helaena smiled lovingly.

''What'' Jacaerys said, embracing her. ''Can't a man love his wife?''

She giggled, like she did in her childhood years. That girlish voice caused Jacaerys to giggle too. At this moment, they weren't future King and Queen. They were little children called Jacaerys and Helaena.

After a while of peaceful silence, she spoke again. Her tone calm and steady. “Let go, Jace. Your heart carries too much. You would bear the weight of every soul if you could — but some burdens were never meant to be carried by someone else.”

He said nothing. Instead, he bent to breathe her in — the scent of her hair, the whisper of her warmth — and then spoke, voice hushed and grateful. “Do you know how deeply I thank the gods for you?” 

Chapter Text

Lucerys woke up, the first thing he ever sees being the Crown of Love and Beauty again.
Two weeks had passed since the end of the tourney.

Behind the heavy stone walls of the Red Keep, he had dared to do something he had long forgotten how to attempt: to listen to his own voice, and to dwell within the silence of his own company.
Outwardly, the past few days had seemed unremarkable. He dined with the family, exchanged polite words with his mother, even endured Joffrey’s jesting with faint smiles.

Yet within him, a strange stillness deepened with every passing hour. However much he feared, however fiercely he trembled, he knew — he could no longer run away from what he really needed to do. Nor did he wish to.

He had thought and thought and thought by himself. He remembered every single memory of him and Aemond. He thought of the boy who had the universe in his eyes, the wounded yet powerful boy, the domineering young man at the wedding with cold eyes, strongest alpha of Seven Kingdoms who kneeled for his love.

Lucerys knew he owed no one his love just because they loved him. He knew it too well from his dear childhood friend Benjicot Blackwood, and from many others who had him in their heart.

He also couldn't say if he did love Aemond now, or will do so in the future. But, he decided to give a chance to him. A chance to him and himself, so that they could get to know each other and solve the misunderstandings as Helaena said.

Aemond had swore that he wouldn't hurt him. Lucerys knew he was a man of his words. And, somehow, after him seeing swearing so fiercely on Vhagar with a burning sincerity, he believed in his goodwill. 

Obviously, the encounter with Helaena had cracked something within his heart — a fine, deliberate fracture through which light had begun to seep. That light grew stronger each day, chasing away the long night that had reigned within him.

At times, he would sit alone — in his chamber, or upon the quiet stone balconies of the palace — his gaze lost to the distant horizon. His hands rested upon his knees; his thoughts wandered back to Helaena’s words. And of Aemond's words.

Each phrase had sunk deeper into his mind with every day that passed. His fear had not vanished — far from it — but he no longer bowed beneath it. He was ready, at last, to defy it.
To confront it.

Lucerys was ready to speak with Aemond.

All these days, he had thought to himself. Normally, he would always ask Rhaena of her thoughts when he is confused about something. But deep inside he knew that this was something he himself needed to solve.

He analyzed his emotions over and over again. Even the ones which he pushed too deep out of fear of facing it. He was tired of being afraid, tired of feeling guilty. In these two weeks, he understood many things about himself that he didn't realize over many years.

He wasn't afraid of Aemond mainly because of the possibility that he could take revenge on him, no. He always thought he deserved it. He wanted to be punished, he felt like a sinner. He was drowning in guilt.

He couldn't forget that when Jace and Aegon would bully him, he couldn't raise his voice against this abuse. And, sometimes that he bullied him alongside Jace and Aegon, too. And he would always apologize to Aemond afterwards at the library, he would always accept his apologies.

Until he didn't. Until he didn't deserve his forgiveness anymore. Until he went too far. 

He didn't want to see Aemond after a year of constant apologizing and facing constant apathy. He had no right to look him in the eye.

It was agonizing for him. He always tortured himself by thinking he lost Aemond forever. And he would never win him back, no matter how much he apologizes, no matter what he does. An eye would never come back with plenty apologies.

He wanted Aemond to take a revenge on him all the time. He was deeply afraid of dying or getting maimed, yet, at the same time he felt he deserved it. 

When Aemond said he loved him, he felt real fear. So much so that his previous fears dwarfed on this instantly. He first reckoned it was due to fear of getting hurt or killed. But, no, it wasn't. It was because deep inside he knew he didn't deserve anything good. 

It terrorized him. The thought of Aemond loving him. He was the most vicious and cold blooded bastard in the Realm, yet he felt love and forgiveness towards his maimer...

Then, what did he do after his confession? He ignored and hurt him again. He didn't deserve to be around the alpha. However, he had to speak with him. Look at him in the eye, and apologize. Not only for the distant past but also for the recent events. 

He would never forgive himself for what he had done. However, he could at the very least make the right things. He could at least try to solve the misunderstandings and pain and suffering between them. Aemond deserved that, even if he didn't.

He exhaled. There was no escape from the confrontation now.

He rose from bed and donned a black, airy shirt, paired with crimson trousers of fine weave.
He had always despised being dressed by attendants — and this morning, nerves rendered such courtesies intolerable. With quiet defiance, he dressed himself, refusing all offers of assistance.

His steps, measured yet resolute, carried him to the corner of his chamber — toward the old stone wall. Kneeling before it, his palms pressed against the chill surface. This time, he did not flinch.
His fingers found the hidden latch by instinct, turned it, and from the recess drew forth a small satin pouch of violet hue.

Though its fabric had faded with years, it remained smooth beneath his touch.
He held it carefully, feeling its familiar weight — a weight not of paper, but of memory.

Inside were letters — written, unsent, or perhaps never even begun. Each one bore the burden of his heart: the confessions he could not voice, the remorse he could not silence.

He closed the secret compartment. Once, that act would have made his hands tremble. Now, however, it brought him a strange calm, a faint sense of release. The fear still lingered — sharp, unyielding — but he no longer surrendered to it.

He drew a steady breath. The satin pouch was firm in his grasp.

“I will speak — I will confess — I will do what I should have done years ago.”

He closed the wardrobe, turned toward the door, and stepped into the corridor. His pace quickened with each step. There was only one thought echoing within him:
He would find Aemond — and at last, they would face each other.

The courtyard was bathed in the pale gold of early sun when Lucerys arrived. His eyes searched instinctively — and there he was.

Aemond stood in the training yard’s heart, locked in a spar with Ser Erryk. The clashing of steel rang through the crisp air, a rhythm both harsh and familiar. Lucerys halted for a breath, memories flooding him — of their boyhood lessons, the laughter and the envy that had shaped them both.

Summoning his courage, he stepped forward.

Aemond’s sharp eye caught the movement at once. With a slight motion of his head, he signaled Ser Erryk to halt. Beneath the gleam of armor, his chest rose and fell steadily, each breath measured — yet there was a flicker of something unreadable when his gaze met Lucerys’.

“Good training to you, my prince,” said Lucerys softly. His tone wavered, but the intent behind it did not.

Aemond paused, his sword still in hand, before lowering it slowly.
“Lucerys,” he replied — his voice low, smooth, touched with that familiar edge of restrained command.

Ser Erryk, ever dutiful, bowed his head yet lingered nearby, circling in quiet vigilance.

“It seems I have intruded upon your practice,” Lucerys continued, his eyes steady despite the faint tremor in his voice. “Yet I would speak with you, Prince Aemond — if you have time...”

For a moment, Aemond said nothing. His jaw tightened; then, with a single deliberate motion, he sheathed his sword. “Ser Erryk,” he said at last, “you have my thanks. Leave us.”

The White Cloaked hesitated. “My prince, forgive me, but as an Alpha it wouldn't suit propriety that you remain alone with Prince Lucerys. Permit me to stand guard.”

Lucerys, perceiving Aemond’s impatience, spoke swiftly. “We would be honored by your vigilance, Ser Erryk,” he said, though his tone betrayed quiet unease. “Yet what I must say is… not for all ears. I beg your understanding.”

Ser Erryk’s face remained composed, his loyalty unmoved. “Then I shall remain within sight, but out of hearing, my princes.”

Lucerys inclined his head in gratitude. “Thank you, Ser.”

When the white-cloaked knight withdrew to a distance, silence enveloped the courtyard. The two princes stood facing one another — the years of unspoken words pressing heavy between them.

Lucerys broke that silence first. “I wish to speak of what happened at Driftmark.”
His voice quivered faintly, but his gaze held firm.

“I am listening,” said Aemond, his tone controlled, though a glimmer of wariness flickered behind his calm.

Lucerys drew a breath, as if steadying his heart. “Nothing will ever return your eye to you,” he said. “But still — I am sorry.”

The words left him raw, stripped bare of pride.

Aemond’s expression shifted — a flash of astonishment, sorrow, and something deeper, more fragile.

“For years,” Lucerys went on, “I lived with the guilt of hurting you. There never was a day that I had forgotten of my sin to you. In the year that I lived at Kings Landing, I begged for your forgiveness everyday. You never said you forgave me, and honestly, I always thought it was your biggest right. At the very last day of my stay in Kings Landing, you told me that you forgave me. I couldn't believe it to  be true. I always thought that you said so without meaning it. I never forgave myself. Yet, I am sorry.''

Aemond’s jaw tightened again; a muscle twitched near his mouth. The words struck him with the weight of years. He stood motionless, the air between them trembling with all that had long been left unsaid.

Lucerys drew a breath again. The words were just spilling out of him, it was out of his control. He just let the worlds flow to the alpha.

''I am not only sorry about Driftmark. I am also sorry for the further past, the fact that I did nothing when Aegon and Jacaerys bullied you and sometimes that I also joined their cruel behavior. And, as a hypocrite, I would come to you at the library, to apologize. To torment you or watch you tormented again. Yet, you always forgave me. I never deserved your forgiveness. I am not here to beg you to forgive me. I don't have any right to do so. Just know that I am deeply sorry.''

Aemond looked at him with a widened violet eye. He was stunned. It was the first time Lucerys saw him stunned.

At last, he spoke — his voice low, as though each syllable scraped against the past. “You apologize… after all these years.” It was not scorn in his tone, but something far more dangerous — a fragile ache that bordered on disbelief.

Lucerys bowed his head, the slender line of his neck bared in the sunlight. Aemond’s lone eye followed the motion, a storm behind its calm surface. Something within him — a pulse of anger, of hunger, of longing — stirred like a chained beast.

He drew a sharp breath and stepped closer. Lucerys flinched — barely — yet did not retreat. That defiance coaxed the faintest, bitter smile to Aemond’s lips.

Aemond closed his eye for a moment, exhaling deeply. When he opened it again, the hardness within had softened, revealing not only pain but something perilously close to yearning.

He took another step forward until only a breath of space divided them. He lowered his head slightly, inhaling the faint scent that clung to Lucerys’s skin. When his breath grazed the younger prince’s cheek, Lucerys swallowed hard — and Aemond’s lips curved, faintly, helplessly.

“How am I to live with your apology now, Lucerys?” he murmured. His voice was no longer cold. It was roughened by emotion, trembling between sorrow and desire.

Then, they saw Ser Erryk frowning from distance. Aemond stepped back obediently. 

“I dreamed of this moment for years,” he confessed, his gaze never wavering. “I wanted to hear these words. And now you stand before me, so fragile, so brave. Once, I wanted vengeance. I wanted to see you suffer as I did. But not now. Not anymore. Even had you said nothing, still, I could not bring myself to hate you.”

He looked at him with utter yearning in his eye. Lucerys shivered. Aemond kept looking at him, like that, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Tell me then, how could I not love you?”

Color rose swiftly to Lucerys’s cheeks, yet he did not avert his gaze. “I, uh, I just did what was years overdue.” he answered softly, “I needed to speak these words, Aemond. I had to.”

Aemond turned his head aside, exhaling through parted lips. His hands tightened, then relaxed again. His breath came fast; his restraint trembled. Lucerys’s candor disarmed him, and in that truth he felt both mesmerized and fascinated.

When he finally looked at the omega, his gaze fell to the violet pouch still clutched in Lucerys’s hands. “What is that?” he asked quietly.

Lucerys’s lips curved faintly. “These are the letters I wrote to you over the years. I never dared to send you them, but I wrote them anyway. Today, I want to give them to you... Maybe you would like to read?''

Aemond smiled. How could he not read the letters Lucerys wrote to him? No fucking way. There was nothing he wanted to do more now. (Save for seeing Lucerys.)

''How could I not want something that belongs to you? Also... can I consider them love letters?''

The omega was crimson red. Aemond found him extremeley endearing.

''What?! Uhhh... No...''

Aemond couldn't stop grinning. ''Well, maybe one day you could write me a love letter.''

Lucerys was speechless. He was still crimson red. Aemond quickly found out that he really enjoyed making the omega flustered. And, it wasn't his fault that he was this charming when he was embarrassed. 

''Would you give them to me?''

Lucerys nodded and extended the violet satin pouch to the alpha. When he took it, their fingers briefly touched. When Aemond withdrew his hand, Lucerys's brief touch lingered.

Aemond closed his hand around the satin, eye locked with Lucerys’s. ''I want to keep talking to you. And I want to talk to you again. Nothing between us should remain in the dark.''

Lucerys nodded faintly. For a long moment, neither spoke. From a distance, Ser Erryk still watched, silent sentinel beneath the morning sun.

Aemond’s voice broke the stillness. “For years I despised you,” he said. “I thought you had never sought forgiveness, that you lived in ease while I bore the ruin you gave me. I hated you for that. Then I realize the hatred I had was more complicated and twisted. Because, the real thing that I hated was you forgetting about me. So, if I were to confess a twisted thought, I was even glad that you were the one who maimed me. That way you would never forget about me.”

Lucerys let out a trembling laugh, more pain than mirth. “Then, may I also have a twisted confession?'' Aemond nodded. “I am not sorry I took your eye.”

Aemond’s face darkened in shock. “What?” his voice trembled. It was too hurtful, especially coming from the love of his life.

Lucerys’s tone softened, though his words did not. “Had I not done so, you would have killed Jace. For that, I cannot repent. But for the pain I caused you; for that, I always was and will be sorry.”

Aemond’s anger faltered, leaving only breathless confusion. He almost sighed in relief. But, another pain made him falter as he remembered that wretched night. “You called me thief,” he muttered. “All of you.”

Lucerys sighed, his lips twisting with rueful humor. “Well… stealing Vhagar at Laena’s funeral was poor timing, you must admit. Yet I cannot wholly blame you. We mocked you, tormented you, for not having a dragon. You were bound to act rashly. Also, dragons are not property that could be inherited. But those girls had just lost their mother. No one was thinking clearly that night.”

Aemond blinked. He was aware of the fact that they were having an extremely hard conversation. Yet, he felt like he was healing some wounds that he didn't know existed.

Lucerys lowered his gaze once more. “The truth is… I thought then that protecting my brother was worth the punishment. I even read every Westerosi law I could find — and learned that those who strike in self-defense are rarely condemned. Still…” His voice faltered. “As a child, had you demanded my eye in return, I would have given it to you.”

Aemond’s mouth parted in disbelief. “You cannot mean that.” The omega shrugged lightly, though his forced smile trembled. “I do.” Then, more softly, fragilely: “I know you swore on Vhagar, but... I want to ask you one last time. Do you still seek vengeance? My eye?”

The alpha sighed. “No. I love you. I would protect you from every danger possible. I would never become a danger for you myself.''

Lucerys smiled shyly. Aemond couldn't take his eye off of him. As if he normally could. Lucerys stared, shaken. “How could you forgive me? I am sorry, i keep asking this... Yet I don't understand...”

Aemond’s gaze lingered upon him. The fragile curve of his lips, the sorrow in his eyes... The cinnamon curls dancing in the soft breeze, glittering like gold under the sun. These cinnamon eyes which held deepest of intelligence, wit and emotions. The freckles, the pearl-like skin, the strong yet soft body... 

How could one ever wish harm upon such beauty?

“You are… breathtaking, Lucerys,” he whispered. “I lose my breath each time I behold you.”

Lucerys flushed scarlet, and Aemond’s smile deepened.

“I forgave you first,” Aemond continued, “when I realized that I could not hold a terrified child to blame. Then again, when I saw you years later and felt not rage, but something far more perilous. And now… now I forgive you a third and final time.”

At those words, Lucerys broke. Tears filled his eyes, spilling freely as Aemond drew him into his arms. Ser Erryk approached swiftly, but Aemond paid him no mind. The world had narrowed to the trembling beauty against his chest.

When at last they parted, Aemond took the omega's smell in and brushed the tears from Lucerys’s cheeks with gentleness. Lucerys did not resist, he silently let him.

“I would ask something of you,” Aemond said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. Lucerys looked at him, wary yet attentive. “What is it? If it is something within my power to do, I would try to do so.”

Ser Erryk stepped back again when he saw them part.  Aemond’s hand tightened upon the satin pouch, the years of pain and longing tangled together in his chest. His eye, unguarded now, was almost tender.

“I would ask,” he said slowly, “that you allow me to court you.”

The air between them stilled. Lucerys stared — eyes wide, lips parted, unable to summon breath. Aemond spoke, breaking the silence. ''I loved you for many years. I have seen you on the wedding, and I understood that there was no one else for me but you. My love for you only kept increasing when you moved back into Kings Landing. And just when I thought I could love you no more, you appear — seeking to mend what years had sundered. How, Lucerys, could I not love you?”

Lucerys’s lips trembled; he could not meet that gaze any longer. His chest ached with shame and longing alike.

“If you still wish to make amends,” Aemond said softly, “then let this be the beginning. Accept my courtship. Let me try to love you rightly. I love you so much, I want you so much.”

That broke what little strength Lucerys had left. His fingers twined together; his voice came as scarcely more than a breath. “I… must think.”

Aemond smiled faintly — not triumph, but something gentler, steadier. “Then think,” he said. “One week hence, at this same hour, in this same place. We shall speak again. Does that suit you?”

Lucerys could only nod. He turned toward Ser Erryk, who greeted him with silent deference. The young prince did not speak; he merely bowed his head and walked away, the morning light glinting upon his tear-streaked cheeks.

Aemond did not stop him. He only watched — with a quiet, unguarded smile.

Pressing the violet pouch against his heart, he whispered to the wind: “Ah... My heart longs for your absence already...”

When he left Ser Erryk and Lucerys, Aemond didn't know how he went all the way to his chambers in an instant 

He didn't have a heart to part from the satin pouch; it lay pressed against his chest as though the letters within had merged with the thunder of his heart.

His fingers clutched the edge of the fabric, trembling; his steps along the corridor were slow yet resolute, and within him raged a storm. It felt as if he were on the verge of casting off a weight he had carried all his life, a burden whose nature he had never fully understood.

The moment he entered his chambers, he tore open the pouch with the swiftness of a predator unshackled, and drew forth the letters. His fingertips wandered across the pages — reverent, trembling, and feverishly impatient.
He arranged the letters in careful order, by date and seal — he needed that sequence, that sense of time, to comprehend the silent testimony of a life intertwined with his own.

When he took the earliest letter into his hand, his eyes caught the year written in the corner, and his heartbeat quickened.
Lucerys had been five then; Aemond himself but nine.
So even in those early years, while still dwelling in King’s Landing, Lucerys had written about him, had sought him.

Aemond’s lips curved, almost unwillingly. The warmth that rose within him could not be suppressed; he smiled, helplessly. These letters rested in his palms like sunlight breaking through the chill of time.

Dearest Aemond Targaryen,
Mother, Father, and Jace, please forgive me, but this letter is not for you. Do not be angry if you read it, will you? I promise I shall write to you as well.
Aemond, you went to the Dragonpit again today. I watched you, though you did not see me. You are very brave, I think. I want to be like you!
Sometimes I am afraid of you, but sometimes I only want to be your friend. Truly, I would rather be friends. It is very hard to say this to your face. Shall we be friends?
You look very grand when you train with your sword. When we are friends, will you help me learn as well?
Lucerys Strong.

Aemond closed his eye and saw it — little Lucerys, struggling to hold the quill in tiny fingers, frowning with concentration as he shaped the letters, frail yet stubborn.
He felt his heart soften, and the muscles of his face ache from smiling. He had been smiling far too often of late. As though the stiffness and sorrow of years were slowly dissolving from his features.

His gaze drifted to the second letter. His grip tightened on the paper. Lucerys was six in this one; Aemond, ten.

Dearest Aemond Targaryen,
I do not know why we fight so often, but after each quarrel my heart hurts. Truly. It feels like there is a stone in my stomach. No one understands when I say so. Perhaps you will not, either.
But when I look at you, my thoughts grow muddled. Sometimes I want to best you, and sometimes I only want you beside me.
That day in the library was very nice. You were silent, yet you were there. I wish we could always be that way.
Please, let us talk one day. Truly. Without lies and without shouting.
Lucerys Strong.

Aemond’s throat tightened. He swallowed, but the weight would not pass. He remembered it — the heavy stillness of the library, Lucerys seated beside him, their hands brushing once by accident. The boy had flinched, crimson with embarrassment. Yet Aemond… Aemond had felt peace. A rare, golden peace.

His eyes misted. His fingers caressed the page’s edge without thought. There was warmth in these letters — the trembling echo of a past that refused to die.

He drew a deep breath and reached for the third. This one would hurt — he knew it would. For here, childhood had ended. Here, blood had been spilled. Here, memory cut like glass.

Aemond Targaryen,
I am sorry. I... do not know what else to say. I am sorry.
I was so frightened, Qybor... You were going to kill Jace! How could you?
But I have no right to be angry, do I? When they mocked you, I did not defend you — sometimes, I even joined them. But when you raised that rock, I had to stopped you.
I wish the cost had not been your eye.
I cannot even apologize for it now, for it is too late. Yet every night before I sleep, I whisper “I wish it wouldn't turn out like this.” I am ashamed to look upon your face. But if you ever read this letter, I only want you to know — I wish...
With remorse, Lucerys Strong.

Aemond’s hands shook violently; the parchment rustled between his fingers.
That single word — wish — struck him like a blade. So simple. So devastating.

What he believed for all these years were a lie. The truth lay before him now: the apology had been there, whispered by a child each night like a prayer — a lonely, trembling prayer that no one ever heard.

He read on. There were more letters from that same year.

Dearest Aemond Targaryen,
When I told you I am sorry today, you said that I didn't deserve to be sorry. You told me to go away. I went away. I am sorry.
Perhaps you will never forgive me.
Still, I am sorry.
Lucerys Strong.

Aemond devoured the words as a starving man might devour bread. Each sentence cut into him — yet warmed him, too.

The letter he had in his hand was of four years ago. He had been seventeen then; Lucerys, thirteen.
And still, always the same refrain: I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

He kept reading the letters. In these letters; he talked about his experiences in Harrenhal, the journeys he went on with Arrax, the books that he read that reminded him of him... He always ended it with an apology.

The last letter was in his hands. He was nineteen and Lucerys was fifteen. It was of the time Lucerys went to King's Landing for the first time since his one year confinement. He went on Arrax to visit his brother.

That was the first time in years Aemond had seen him. It was also the first time he saw him as flowered omega. And, it was also the time he realized his true feelings towards his favorite nephew. He read the letter in an instant.

Dearest Qybor,
When I saw you again after all these years... You looked at me with such cold eyes I couldn't help but felt a bit hurt.
I know that I completely deserve your resentment, but it pained me, even if it was all in the distant past now.
You looked at me as if you wanted to kill me. Aegon said you hold severe resentment towards me. I didn't wanted to believe him, but he said it so many times, and I heard the same thing from so many people... I feel a bit scared, though, my guilt overshadows it. I am so sorry.

Lucerys Strong.

Aemond frowned. So, it was the Aegon bastard who spread the rumors of him wanting to take a revenge on Lucerys... 

He knew his brother could be very good at playing the 'Scoundrel yet honest alpha'. But, he was actually a person who would lie just for fun.

And, the stern look on his face was him trying to cope with the fact that Lucerys was in front of him as a flowered omega and looking like a deity who descended the earth. Yet, no wonder the omega would connect these two together and start fearing him.

He looked at the window. It started to rain, it seemed. He got carried away, reading those letters.

Ah… on rainy days his empty eye socket would ache. It was raining now. But this time, it was not his eye that pained him — it was his heart.
His heart, blazing with longing for the omega he desired.

Perhaps, he thought, if these letters had been sent to him instead of staying hidden in this pouch and if no one had placed obstacles in their path — Lucerys could now be lying in his arms.

Perhaps he would already bear Aemond’s mark upon his neck.

Still, Aemond felt hope, for the first time over many years. He was terrified when he realized he loved Lucerys first. It was a sin to love a fellow man and everyone knew what happened to Laenor Velaryon because of it.

He didn't want to be a second Laenor, yet he realized as time went on, he even was prepared to go against the Faith and Westerosi culture or whatever it is.

When the news of Lucerys presenting as an omega came to him, he felt euphoria. If Lucerys were to accept him, they would be able to marry. And Lucerys would be able to have a child. His child.

He had to restrain himself from jumping to Vhagar's back and fly to Dragonstone to ask his hand in marriage here and there.

Of course, The Rogue Prince wouldn't be happy with the arrangement. Yet, he was desperate. He didn't want the omega to look at someone else meanwhile. He was thankful to gods everyday that he actually didn't have anyone that interested him, or so his informants said.

Unfortunately, there were many alphas who wanted him. The Rogue Prince was making them stay away, but Aemond knew with that beauty, it was just a matter of time. However, he somehow knew it wasn't the right time or place to confess his feelings.

Then, when his father died three months ago, his sister Rhenyra was Crowned the Queen per the wish of their father. She took her brood with her. And, Lucerys was even more beautiful than before.

Aemond couldn't help himself but watched him from afar. Lucerys riding Arrax, Lucerys having laughters with his siblings, Lucerys practicing archery with a formidable feat, Lucerys reading books until late at night, doted on by his mother and father.

When he heard there was going to be a Tourney on the honor of Rhenyra being crowned as Queen, he decided to attend, even if he didn't really give a shit about tourneys. He decided that he had to win no matter what. Just to make Lucerys the King of Beauty and Love.

When he did so, the omega was terrified. That broke his heart, truly. So, he did his best to assure him that he never meant any type of harm towards him.

His cinnamon eyes were not looking at him with warmth, but fear. He danced with him but he was shaking like a leaf. Aemond felt desperate. He didn't know how to approach an omega, he was very lost on that. Thank gods Helaena was supporting him.

He decided to give Lucerys some space. He had to charm the omega first, then offer to court him. But, to be able to do so, he had to step back.

That bastard Benjicot had also left the King's Landing. This also was very relieving for Aemond. He wouldn't be able to get over it if the love of his life would be snatched away from another alpha.

Then, as he was trying to decide whether or not to talk to Lucerys again, Lucerys came to him first.

It was a pleasant suprise. Now, for the first time in his life, Aemond felt like his love could, maybe, just maybe, be reciprocated. One day.

Aemond was optimistic and he was ready to do whatever it takes to gain his heart, without scaring him off.

He didn't rejected him directly when he said he wanted to court him. He said he would think about it. Aemond knew about Benjicot's rejection. Also of Oscar Tully's and Daerea Velaryon's. And many less important bastards'.

The door wasn't closed shut. It had an opening. And light was seeping in from that opening, illuminating his dark and cold world.

He felt hope. For the first time, he dared to have hope that Lucerys could love him back.

He went to the steel safe in his chambers. He opened it and took a necklace out. He looked at the necklace and his eye in the mirror. He would put a sapphire in his empty eye socket. It gleamed with a dazzling blue. The necklace in this hand also had been made of sapphire and of the exact same blue tone.

He quickly wrote a note and put it in the satin pouch along with the necklace. Ah, it would look breathtakingly beautiful in Lucerys's slender and long pale neck! 

He put the letters in the safe as if they are something that could be broken easily. He then lied on his bed, thinking of Lucerys again.

Chapter Text

Lucerys had spent the entire week like a ghost.

Even the most devoted gossipmongers of the realm must have glanced at him and wondered, “Has the man finally gone mad?”

His mind, stubborn and relentless, would not let go of Aemond. Damn it.
Aemond when he woke in the morning. Aemond when he dined in the evening. Aemond even when he put on his shoes — wondering absurdly whether Aemond put on his right shoe first or not.

Truly, not a single inch of his mind remained untouched by Aemond Targaryen. And he had not the faintest idea of what to do about it. It was, in truth, a rather distressing state of affairs. After all, what sane man thought that much about Aemond?

Seven save me, he thought miserably. My sanity was is all I’ve left to lose.

Yet the truly interesting part was this: Lucerys had never thought himself particularly alluring, omega or not, before. So he thought all of his popularity came from him being a Prince and the next Harrenhal Lord.  Yes, he had many admirers, but none of them made him feel beautiful before. Not before Aemond.

And Lucerys, by nature, had never been one to pine after alphas. He could, for example, see why one might call Qoren Martell handsome — but it was admiration, nothing more. If Qoren were to propose marriage, Lucerys would refuse without hesitation. What use had he for a man with a trail of bastards behind him?

The real problem, however, was this: If that same proposal were to come one day from Aemond, he could not say that he would certainly refuse.

A dreadful thought, indeed.

Ordinarily, in matters of the heart, his first confidante would have been Rhaena. But they had spoken of Aemond only recently, and Lucerys had no wish to replay the same tired melody. “I need another opinion,” he decided at last.

And who better than the person he trusted most after Rhaena, his beloved younger brother, Joffrey.

Joffrey was very angry due to Aegon lately. And Lucerys wanted to burn the alpha with Arrax when he heard what happened. Thank gods Jace made him leave immediately. So, their latest agenda was about how disgusting Aegon was.

He was very very frustrated and angry at first (Which was extremely well deserved) but these days, he didn't want to speak about this anymore. Lucerys and Rhaena respected that. He probably needed to process it by himself.

Also, they had another topic, too. Daeron had started to make bolder moves to Joffrey lately. Lucerys was sure they would marry at this rate. These two fools were in love with each other and it seemed like everyone except them were aware of it.

It was painful to watch, honestly. Lucerys sometimes just wanted to yell these two that their love was not one sided or to lock them up in some chamber alone.

Anyway. He and Aemond would talk tomorrow and he really needed advice. So, Joffrey it is.

He found Joffrey in the courtyard. Sparring fiercely with Daeron, again. The omega fought with such precision and fire that Lucerys could not help but feel both pride and a trace of envy. He must have stolen all of Father Harwin’s skill with the sword, Lucerys thought wryly.

Ah, if only their father had lived to see it — he would have been proud beyond measure. The thought drew a bittersweet smile across Lucerys’ lips.

Joffrey, at that moment, deflected a strike from Daeron. Lucerys smirked mischievously. It was the perfect time to bother him.

''Joffrey!” he called out.

The distraction cost his brother dearly — Daeron seized the moment and sent Joffrey sprawling to the ground. Rising, Joffrey shot Lucerys a murderous glare, to which Lucerys only shrugged with shameless indifference. “Prince Daeron, Joffrey,” he greeted in exaggerated courtesy. “How do you fare this fine morning?”

Joffrey hissed through clenched teeth, “We were quite well until you arrived, brother.”

Daeron, ever polite, offered a gentle smile. “We are well, my prince. And yourself?”

Lucerys spread his arms theatrically. “Splendid, thank you, Daeron. Joffrey, why don't you take a few lessons in manners from him?”

''Shut the fuck up already” Joffrey muttered, eyes blazing with fraternal murder.

Lucerys decided not to push his luck and turned to business. “Daeron, may I borrow Joffrey for a short while? I’ll return him within the hour.”

Daeron blinked, momentarily surprised, before his shy smile appeared. “Of course, prin—” “Lucerys,” he interrupted. “Lucerys,” Daeron corrected softly.

Lucerys smiled and waved before seizing Joffrey by the arm and dragging him away. The younger boy pinched him hard in retaliation, with all the vengeance of a fifteen-year-old.

“Ah—!” Lucerys winced as Joffrey arched a brow and smirked wickedly.

Lucerys rolled his eyes. “Brother. I bring you gossip,” he said solemnly. “But you must swear to tell no one. If you do, I’ll tell Daeron you fancy him.”

Joffrey turned scarlet in an instant. “You are a vile piece of shit!”

Lucerys grinned triumphantly. “You didn't deny it! You like him for real, don't you?”

“Just get on with it,” Joffrey growled. “Wait—let me guess. It’s about Aemond.”

Lucerys’ eyes flew wide. “How did you—?!”

Joffrey gave him the look of a man dealing with an idiot.

“Brother. Really? The entire realm is still talking about Aemond giving you the crown of beauty and love. Father and Jace have spent the last three weeks figuring out how to kill him and make it look like an accident. Meanwhile you’re wandering around dazed like some lovesick fool. What do you think?”

Lucerys groaned. Was it truly that obvious? “Anyway,” he said hurriedly, “let’s go to the Kingswood. I’ll explain there.”

They walked, Joffrey trailing behind with a sulky scowl. “Because of you, Daeron knocked me flat on my ass,” he grumbled.

Lucerys glanced back with a wicked grin. Joffrey lunged to cover his brother’s mouth, but Lucerys dodged away just in time. “The ground is not the only place he would like to knock your a—”

Joffrey had him in a headlock before he could finish and he used his spare hand to cover his mouth. His disgusting elder brother licked his palm. Licked. Joffrey released him instantly and Lucerys laughed breathlessly until Joffrey swore at him again and again, glaring daggers.

“If you keep talking, I swear to the gods—”

“Apologies, apologies,” Lucerys said between laughs. “Now. The gossip.”

Joffrey, was as addicted to gossiping as he was. He leaned in eagerly. Perhaps some things truly were genetic.

“He told me,” Lucerys said carefully, “that he wishes to court me.”

Joffrey stopped dead.

“WHAT?!”

He threw his hands into his hair, barely restraining himself from tearing it out.

“Lucerys. Luke. My dear elder brother. Oh gods. Damn. Aemond told you he wants to court you?”

Lucerys nodded sheepishly. “That’s exactly what he said.”

“And you tell me this after dragging me on a pleasant nature walk?! Do you think my heart can withstand such news?”

Lucerys bit his lip to keep from laughing. “I told you, it’s a seriously big gossip.”

Joffrey sighed theatrically and gazed toward the sky. “Seven above… Wow. This guy really doesn't hesitate. I respect him for that. And... what did you say in return?”

Lucerys hesitated. “I asked for a week. To think. We will talk again... today. In a couple of hours”

Joffrey looked at him up and down. 'Ohhh, so that is why you are so overdressed today!'' Lucerys told him to shut up. Joffrey’s expression softened. “And what do you think?”

Lucerys shrugged, his face a mixture of confusion and vulnerability. ''We talked about the past, you know? When we cleared out some misunderstandings and painful memories.. I realized that I am not scared of him anymore? I mean, he is not a monster unlike many alphas.''

Joffrey groaned. ''Aemond is a very decent and gallant alpha.''

Lucerys nodded. ''Damn it, I can't even talk about him without acting like a lovesick fool! Yes! He is the most handsome alpha I have ever seen and he was nothing but decent with me. You know that, he even swore heavy oaths, just so I could feel safer around him! He even swore on Vhagar!''

Joffrey raised his eyebrows. ''Lovesick? Luuukeeeee''

Lucerys groaned this time. ''Will you shut up? Anyway. At these days, I always thought about Aemond. And I am scared. Like... This is a change, you know? I feared him and felt guilt about him all these years. When the fear and guilt disappeared, I found another emotion was lying within! I don't know what to do...''

Joffrey smiled faintly. “To be honest, I’ve always known you saw something different in him.”

Lucerys blinked. “Truly?”

“Of course. You freeze whenever someone mentions his name, you go silent when others insult him, and you’ve never spoken ill of him, save for the jokes that seems so forced. One would have to be blind not to notice.”

Lucerys exhaled slowly. “All those years… I wrote him letters, you know. Dozens of them. I gave him all of them recently.”

Joffrey raised one of his eyebrows. ''Wow... I would never think a day of that would come.''

''Indeed. I also wouldn't expect so. Yet, I did and I don't regret it.''

Joffrey smiled to his elder brother. ''Luke. I will be direct. You seem to like him. He is clearly addicted to you. He would do anything for you. He is handsome, he is the strongest alpha in the Realm, he rides the largest dragon in the world, he would treasure you, he loves you with a scary amount... What are you waiting for? Go for it!''

He looked shy due to his words. Joffrey sighed affectionately to his brother. “This… this is enormous, Luke. We’re talking about Aemond. Cold, furious, terrifying Aemond! And you—my brother—you’ve bewitched him. Gods be good, you’ve made the realm’s most unfeeling alpha fall in love with you.”

Lucerys frowned first, but a small smile crept to his lips. Then Joffrey asked, gently, “Can you picture a future with him?”

Lucerys rubbed his hands together, thinking long and hard. “I don’t know. But for the first time… I think I can imagine it without fear.”

Joffrey leaned in, resting his shoulder against his brother’s. “Look, brother. Aemond may be the scariest man in Westeros, but when he looks at you—there’s something strange in it. Like he wants to devour you and protect you at once. You know who else looked like that? Jace and Daemon.”

Lucerys said nothing.

“He’s in love,” Joffrey declared. “Give him a chance. He’s asking to court you, not rushing to wed. That already sets him apart from half the idiots in the realm. And it’s clear you’re not indifferent either. Try it. If it fails, it fails.”

Lucerys smiled softly. “Thank you, Joffrey. I think… you’ve cleared my head.”

Joffrey pulled him into a warm embrace. “Whatever happens, brother, you have a family that loves you.”

Lucerys held him tight. “I know. And I’m grateful for it. For you.”

As the brothers walked side by side beneath the pale autumn light, something within Lucerys felt lighter than it had in years.
Perhaps, at long last… things might turn out well

Lucerys rushed to the Kingswood. He didn't notice how many hours have passed after he talked with Joffrey. He was absentmindedly thinking of what to do. Now, he had to rush. It was a blessing he had decided to get ready before he talked with Joffrey.

Lucerys could feel his hands trembling. His stomach churned unpleasantly. Gods. Had it been a mistake to summon Aemond to the King’s Wood?

But it was far too late for second thoughts now. The sun was sinking fast, and Aemond could appear at any moment.

At the edge of the grove—just beyond the training yard—Lucerys had placed two simple cushions beneath the shade of the walnut trees. Between them, a simple flask of wine and two small cups. Done quietly, discreetly. (Yes, he had rushed to fetch wine and cushions. And he wasn't late thankfully. Aemond was yet to come. Yay!)

No one had seen; no one had been told. Or, so he hoped.

The last thing he wanted was to find a furious Daemon or Jace coming here.

Anyway.

The faint sound of footsteps on dry leaves quickened his heartbeat. He did not turn. He already knew who it was.

Aemond approached, dressed—of course—in black from head to heel. The leather patch over his left eye could not fully conceal the scar beneath; and every time Lucerys saw it, something inside him ached. He noticed, too, that Aemond was unarmed. No sword at his hip. That small detail lifted his mood further. 

“You called me into the woods, dear nephew,” Aemond said with a faint smirk. “I’ll admit, I half-expected an ambush.”

Lucerys gave a nervous laugh. “If you see me as dangerous as that, I appreciate it.''

Aemond tilted his head. “Absolutely. You have a very dangerous beauty.”

Lucerys cleared his throat to hide his blush. He wasn't successful. Aemond chose not to say anything about it.

“So,” Aemond asked, “what is your decision?”

Lucerys sank onto one of the cushions and gestured for him to sit. “Sit down. This will take a while.”

Aemond obeyed without complaint, his gaze never leaving Lucerys’ face. Lucerys took a deep breath. “I’ve been thinking for a week now. About what you asked me. What you said.”

“And?”

Lucerys intertwined his fingers, avoiding his eye for a moment. Then he lifted his cinnamon-colored gaze.

“I’ve decided… to accept your courtship, Qybor.” He poured wine into their cups, offering one across to him. He was trying not to look at Aemond. And he was crimson red, probably.

When he dared to look at the alpha, he saw the most beautiful smile he had ever seen on his face. Lucerys was stunned by the beauty of the alpha. For a while, neither spoke. The alpha was practically beaming, and- was his eye glistening with tear?!

''I- I am... I don't know that to say. Thank you for accepting me. I will prove you my love, over and over again!''

He then took his hand in his hand reluctantly. His hands were shivering. Luke was no different. The alpha took his hand to his lips, kissing it. Lucerys let him with a thrill.

Then Aemond released his hand and finished his goblet in one go. Then he poured himself another and he also finished it. When he went for the wine again, Lucerys gently stopped him. ''Are you okay? What happened?''

Aemond released the flask. ''I... Sorry, I forgot what to say. You are so mesmerizing. I love you.''

Lucerys felt like a tomato at this point. He groaned, embarrassed. ''We cannot talk if you keep making me shy like that!''

Aemond apologized playfully. ''Sorry for that.'' he didn't seem sorry at all. 

“Aemond,” he said softly, “I want to ask you some things. Be honest.”

Aemond met his eyes seriously. “Always.”

Lucerys inhaled. “Would you love me if I were to present into an alpha instead of an omega?”

The alpha didn’t look away. He thought for a long moment before speaking, voice low: ''I always liked you. Even before your presentation. I was ready to be in the same position as Laenor Velaryon. If you were to be an alpha and wanted me anyway, then I would steal you and we could live together in a faraway land. Or we could stay here, regardless of these Faith bastards think. So, yes, I would.''

Lucerys was stunned. ''I, well, thank you...''

Aemond smiled at him. ''By the way, I brought you something.''

Lucerys perked up immediately, watching as Aemond drew a small velvet pouch from his belt. Ah. His old violet pouch.

When Aemond pulled out a sapphire necklace, Lucerys’ eyes lit up. “Your first courting gift, I assume?”

Aemond nodded and took Lucerys’ hand in his. His lips brushed the omega’s knuckles in a brief, deliberate touch.

Lucerys’ heart was beating far too fast, though he hid it well (he hopes?). He gathered his soft brown curls, sweeping them away from his neck, exposing the pale skin there. Tilting his head just slightly.

Aemond’s single eye flickered downward—instinctively. Lucerys’ cinnamon gaze found his. Still holding his hair back, he murmured, “Are you only going to keep holding the necklace, or do you plan to put it on me?”

Aemond swallowed hard, his throat suddenly dry. Seven save me. Did Lucerys truly understand what he was doing, baring his neck before an alpha like that? He could hardly breathe. All he could see was the soft, unmarked curve of that neck.

The omega tilted his head, a teasing glint in his eyes. “Well? Will you be putting it on today?”

Aemond could only nod. He didn't trust his voice at all. His fingers trembled slightly as he lifted the chain.

He fastened the sapphire around that elegant throat with careful, deliberate movements. His hands were steady but restrained, fighting every instinct screaming to touch, to breathe him in.

When he was done, he realized, to his mortification, that his body had reacted far too eagerly. He tried to think of other things to distract himself, praying Lucerys wouldn’t notice.

The omega turned back to face him, sapphire gleaming against his skin. Aemond felt his breath falter again.

He had seen beauty before—of men, women, and omegas alike. But none of them, none, could compare to Lucerys Strong. Lucerys was beauty that could start wars and end them. No one could even come close.

“You seem to like how it looks,” Lucerys teased with a sly grin.

Aemond blinked, snapping out of his trance, and smiled. “Like it? I don't think my mesmerization could only be explained by 'liking'. I love it. It’s breathtaking. I wasn’t exaggerating when I called you the most beautiful omega in the realm.”

Even the freckles on Lucerys’ pale cheeks flushed red. But, true to form, he masked it with humor. “Thank you. They say I take after my mother.”

Aemond tilted his head, resting his temple against his fist, watching him fondly. “You’re a thousand times more beautiful than my sister ever was.” Lucerys turned away quickly, clearly flustered. Adorable. Damn it, why couldn't they just marry?

Then, he felt the omega's hand brush against his. Aemond's eye widened. Luke was still not looking at him, but his hand had now found its place on Aemond's. Aemond couldn't believe it. Was he dead and revived in Heaven? Or maybe, he was dreaming again? The warm palm was too real to be a dream, but if it turn out to be a dream, Aemond would be very dissapointed.

Except... He squeezed his hand. Aemond gulped. His hand was calloused, a hand of an archer. However, it also had the warmth and delicacy of a silken cloth. How could contradictions like this exist simultaneously in this man over and over again? Aemond would never know. He only knew that he loved the man.

He lifted their joined hands and put a chaste kiss on the back of the omega's hand. The omega was looking at him now, his face crimson red. Aemond wanted to caress the reddened cheeks, but decided not to. He didn't have a heart to move and possibly scare him off.

''Aemond,'' he said, with a gentle voice. ''May I ask you something? But be honest when you answer.''

''Uh... can you repeat what you just said?'' Aemond couldn't concentrate on his later words as he was still shocked by the hand still holding his. Lucerys smiled and repeated.

''Of course, you can ask me anything you want''

Lucerys tucked a curl behind his ear. ''What exactly do you want... of me? You said you want me in every way, but I would like to hear you say this in detail. We are about to start a courtship, you have to be open to me...''

Aemond planted another kiss on the omega's hand. ''So you want me to say how I love you?''

The omega nodded. He looked so lovely. Aemond wanted to eat him up.

''I want everything. Every fiber of your being. I want your body to respond only to me, want you so full of me that everyone can understand that you belong to me in one glance. I want your smile to be directed in me the most. I want your laughter and joy, and even your cries and sadness. I want to be the father of your future children and see you round with my child. I want to spar with you, fly with you, rule with you, live with you. Until I die. I want all of my future memories to include you.''

Lucerys looked stunned. Aemond wanted to kiss him but held himself back.

''I want all of my memories from now to include you. I want it all. But do you know what I want the most? Your love. I want you to feel and want everything that I said to you now towards me one day. I want you to choose me and stay by my side because you love me. I want your love. For your love, I'll do whatever you want.''

When he had received no response from Lucerys, Aemond looked at him. Lucerys was looking at him in an almost fond way. Aemond squeezed his hand gently.

''Does my answer satisfied your curiosity, Issa jorrāelagon?''

''I... I don't know what to say... Just... Well...''

Aemond smiled fondly. He never knew the Fierce Lucerys would be this shy when it came to romantic matters.

''I... Oh, there is an important problem! Our courtship, can it remained hidden?''

The alpha had a bitter expression. ''Why, are you ashamed of me?''

Lucerys rolled his eyes. ''No, you stupid man. I just want a peaceful courtship, away from the prying eyes of the court and of my family, if possible. Besides, why would I be ashamed of you?''

Aemond sighed. ''Your family don't really like me. Jacaerys and Daemon would be very glad if they see me away from you. Besides... I know what they call me, Luke. One-eyed monster. So, it is normal to-''

''So you are suggesting that you are an undesirable alpha, therefore I want to hide our courtship?'' Lucerys sighed. You are funny, Qybor. Such a smart man, yet sometimes making the most unrealistic inference.'' Lucerys was now frowning and his scent has turned sour. ''I wouldn't have accepted your proposal if I wasn't attracted to you.''

Aemond's eye widened. ''You find me attractive?''

Lucerys rolled his eyes. ''What do you think? I am known for rejecting every courtship that has directed to me, aren't I? Your offer was the only one I didn't wanted to reject immediately. On the contrary, I wanted to accept it right away, that's why I wanted some time to think!''

There was a silence now. Aemond was speechless. Lucerys was very embarrassed that he had just confessed that he liked him more than his other suitors.

''I-''

''Why you-''

They stared at each other. Both were a bit pink cheeked. Aemond cleared his throat. 

''Um... You say first.''

''I... uh... Well... Fuck this, I already had spoken too much. Anyway. What do you think... about my letters?''

Aemond had let go of this matter once, as the omega seemed flustered. He obviously didn't want to talk about his emotions. He was very cute, though.

''The letters have shaken me up, to be honest. I never knew you had cared for me that much...''

The omega smiled bitterly. ''Well, I did... I still do care for you.''

Aemond looked at their still interwined hands and rubbed the warm hand inside of his, feeling the callouses and softness again.  ''I am very glad that you care for me. You have no idea how much that means to me, my Lucerys.''

Lucerys teased him. ''We just started a courtship. I am not yours yet.''

''Not yet,'' he agreed. ''About the letters... To learn that you admired me, that you wanted to be near me without being surrounded by lies and schemes, to know you were extremely sorry... It had surprised me. I never thought you would feel this way about me. I am extremely delighted.''

Then, his expression got darker. ''I especially want to talk about your last letter. You thought I wanted to take a revenge on you at that time, correct?''

The omega nodded.

''That was not the case. At all. I had forgiven you and accepted that I loved you at that time. It was the first time I saw you after you manifested as an omega. I didn't have any killing intent towards you, qelos, I had a completely different intention. You looked like a Valyrian deity and your smell had driven me crazy. I was trying to hold myself back!''

Lucerys was surprised. ''But Aegon...''

''Aegon is full of shit. He wants me to be unhappy forever...''

Lucerys sighed. Everyone who had to deal with Aegon had a reason to sigh, anyway.

''So Aegon sabotaged you? I mean, he is Aegon, but I still wonder why.''

Aemond rubbed his face angrily.

''Because he didn't get to have Helaena, a Valyrian omega, he probably has set his eyes on you and your omega brother. He has a weird obsession towards Valyrian beauties. I heard that he has a bastard around, from a Lyseni noblewoman. I heard that he looked entirely Valyrian and was his favorite bastard son.''

Lucerys seemed uncomfortable. Aemond looked into his cinnamon eyes. ''If Aegon even tries to approach you, I will kill him. Nobody can harm my love.''

''I find this idea appealing, heh. Not that I would want you to become a kinslayer, especially after all we have done to seem united. Joffrey would also be glad.''

The pair felt angry for the younger omega. Aemond didn't know much about Joffrey, but he disliked seeing Lucerys unhappy so the Aegon matter of a week ago had also angered him. He knew that Jacaerys had chased him away but there was a council meeting planned, therefore Aegon were to be returned. Yet, he was sure his sister wouldn't just sit still and let Aegon get away with harassing her son. He was sure she was planning something, and he wanted to witness that.

Aemond was appointed as master of laws after the coronation of Rhenyra. He and his elder sister haven't talked about Aegon's punishment yet, and he wasn't sure if she wanted to give him an authority over his elder brother. She hinted that they would discuss Aegon in the next meeting, though. He didn't care. Either way, he was glad that Aegon would probably face some consequences.

''Worry not. Council meeting is tomorrow.''

Lucerys nodded.

''I am glad. I'm sure mother would do something about all this.''

''I think so too. By the way, it is starting to get dark here. I would like to talk to you until the morning, if I could, but your family would notice our absence if we both do not attend dinner. So, lets go, my prince.''

Lucerys looked at the handsome man who stood up and is extending his hand at him. He took his hand and let himself lifted up from the ground. They didn't immediately separated their hands, but after what left like eternity, he let go of him and started collecting the flask and cups. Aemond took the flask out of his grasp and took the cushions. 

They walked side by side until the exit of the godswood. They said nothing, but the silence between them was comfortable. They finally cleared the misunderstandings of the past. Now, they had opened a new page. Two of them. Even if Aemond was madly in love and Lucerys was only liking the man, it was a good start.

Aemond let the omega go first. He watched his back until he went into the inner gate of the keep. Then, he followed.

He knew Lucerys wanted to be subtle, but they both knew everything was very very far from it. He had declared his love in front of all Realm, after all. Ser Erryk and Aryyk wouldn't keep their mouths shut forever. Maybe they already had sang to his sister. And Lucerys was treating him better now. Everyone could connect the dots easily. Yet, Lucerys wanted to keep their moments to ourselves. 

Aemond understood it. 

Yet, he was sure Daemon and Rhenyra wouldn't let him get away with this. After Aegon was out of the way, he was sure he would be their next focus. And, target.

He wasn't scared at all. He would go to hell and return from it just to be with Lucerys.

He exhaled as he finally entered his chambers. Lucerys was way too enticing for his own good. Aemond briefly stared at the mirror and started to prepare for the dinner.

What a nice day, today was, he thought.

Chapter Text

Rhenyra sighed for the 10th time.

Daemon looked at her with the same expression: Fed up but decisive.

Today would be the 4th month of Rhenyra's reign. And, the council meeting would take place in 10 minutes. It was quite astounding that the eventful tourney was a month ago.

Ah, speaking of the tourney...

For all these months, both Rhenyra and Daemond were extremely busy. Of course it wasn't easy to rule 7 Kingdoms. Especially when some of the lords did not wanted to see a woman on the throne and was unhappy about it...

However, Rhenyra felt very sorry for the fact that she couldn't get involved into the matter of Aemond's ridiculous confession as much as she wanted herself to be.

Yes, she did scold him after the tourney and yes, they did have many one on one talks together. (Though, all of them were fruitless as her brother was not really willing to give up loving her son.)

She also had talked with Lucerys, once, even if he blatantly chose to isolate himself after the events broke out. It was a normal reaction, so she let him be.

Her sweet boy... When they finally did talk, she told him that she wouldn't hesitate to act if Aemond was disturbing him. 

Luke said, Aemond did nothing to disturb him. Then he explained Aemond had made heavy swearings on not harming him. He apperantly even swore on Vhagar for it.

Rhenyra was stunned. Aemond hadn't told her that. This was the highest form of chivalrious behavior. Therefore she started to respect her brother more.

Then, she asked about Luke's feelings about this matter, after being convinced that her son is not in danger. Luke had refused to talk about his feelings and said he just wanted to be alone for a while.

While being sad, she respected his decision.

She always had close relations with all of her children, all eight of them. Luke would normally tell things going on in his life to her. Yet she knew her son just wanted space, and that was alright. She was sure he would talk to her when he is ready.

It wasn't that she was actually against her son being wanted. Lucerys was extremely charming; both in beauty and position. So, it was normal that he would attract attention. 

And, to be frank, Aemond might as well be the best match among Luke's suitors.

Aemond was a Targaryen prince, rider of the largest dragon in the world and also the strongest warrior of the Realm. Yet, he also was a second son with nothing to inherit.

So, letting him be the lord consort of Harrenhal and recieve loyalty of the fiercest man of the Realm (her husband would disagree with this, but still) was a good opiton.

And more importantly, Aemond was deep in love with Luke. It wasn't anything new either, she knew it from when they still were kids. Aemond would try to look reluctant and nonchalant, but his eyes would always search for Luke's.

And, even after his eye was cut by Luke, he seemed to hate him for a while (or, more likely, tried to) but his eye kept looking at him with the same intensity if not increased.

She knew this, because eyes never lied. Whenever they encountered each other, Aemond had this longing in his eye. As if he wanted nothing else in the world but the omega. As if he never would be satisfied if he couldn't make Luke his.

So, it wasn't that she was afraid her son wouldn't be loved. It was that she wanted to prioritize her sweet boy's feelings. No matter the advantage of that possible match, no matter the astounding love the alpha has for him.

Lucerys didn't seemed indifferent to him. Reports of Ser Arryk and Erryk stated so. It probably was that he was trying to figure his thoughts and emotions out at this moment.

Still, she trusted her son. He had good eyes and a strong soul, he would never accept an alpha who treats him badly or one that he didn't love. Also, she wanted to give him freedom regarding choosing his mate, just like she and Jace had. 

Same would count for her every child, of course.

Another issue was that she didn't know Aemond that much. Her brother was a mystery for her.

She had a very good relationship with Helaena as she was her only sister, her advisor and good-daughter. However, unlike her sister, she didn't know her brothers that much.

Aegon was a scoundrel and a debaucher. He had started to frequent brothels at the age of 13 and has many many bastards throughout the Realm now. Also, he harrassed Helaena in the past and Joffrey a week ago. When she and Daemon learned about what he tried to do to Joffrey, after also knowing Jace chased him away, she wanted to chase him with Syrax.

Jace had a vise choice. If Aegon were to stay here, everything would go south very quickly. But now, Aegon were to be returning for the council meeting. Rhenyra had a cold smile.

He will not get away with this, she will make sure of it.

As he didn't get away with trying to harm Helaena in the past.

Well, about Daeron... The boy was sent to oldtown at a very young age and save for Baela and Rhaena and occasionally Joffrey, nobody had even visited him. (She was feeling bad about this, too. She would love to get to know her youngest brother when the Realm stabilizes.)

Daeron seemed like a good man, but he also had eyes for her sweet boy Joffrey. He and his elder brother were coveting her boys... She had a hunch that Joffrey also liked Daeron. She was actually considering marrying them off but she decided to wait and see, just like she did for Aemond and Luke.

Same could be said for Aemond too. She didn't know him much but he was a good natured child in the past and now, a proper alpha, it seemed.

She had heard many negative things about him too. That he was a cold blooded killing machine and that he has unsolvable anger issues. That he wanted revenge (which, as Luke told her, was already proven untrue).

Luke was an observant child, he always was. He liked gossip, but he never trusted anything that is said to him naively. He could analyze people with a great accuracy.

So she was letting her son to find out if the rumors are true or not. (If they were and Luke still wanted to be with Aemond, she would intervene. But, she would watch and wait for now.)

Aemond was not the only suitor of Luke, of course. 

When Harwin was alive, he would took their sons to Harrenhal frequently. Luke, especially, was good friends with future lords and ladies of Riverrun: Kermit and Oscar Tully, Benjicot Alysanne and Melissa Blackwood, Barba, Jeyne and Catelyn Bracken and of course, many many Strong lady and lords.

He was a social butterfly and was adored by everyone. When he manifested as an omega and his bethrotal with fellow omega Rhaena was cancelled, most of the proposals were from Riverrun, most formidable ones from Benjicot and Oscar.

She sometimes thought Luke might end up with a River lord, but it seemed unlikely now, especially after his changing demeanor to Aemond.

Luke was never interested in Benjicot and Oscar, much to their disappointment. However, he would also follow his uncle around when he was a child. He would get sad when Aemond was bullied by Jace and Aegon (she disliked that Jace was a bully back then... She had her regrets, she should've intervened more.)

And, he didn't seem repelled by Aemond after his confession, only scared.

And now, she had received reports from Ser Arryk and Erryk of their encounters. She was still in the dark about her brother, that was true, but she wasn't that worried. As long as Aemond wouldn't overstep his boundaries, she was glad that they were talking to each other.

If Luke decides that he wants Aemond, she would not hesitate to approve this match. Same would account for Joffrey and Daeron.

One could say that she was even glad of this outcome. Her brothers had nothing to inherit (save for Aegon, who would inherit many lands on Oldtown as his deceased wife was a Hightower lady) and a potential match between Aemond and Luke could solve this problem. And, Harrenhal would be safer than ever with Vhagar compared to only Arrax.

And, She had plans for Joffrey's inheritance, therefore if Daeron marries Joffrey, he also could benefit from this. Preparing two different plan would be hard on even her.

Yet, these two possible couples were not the reason for this council meeting. (One day, it would be, she was sure of it. But not now.)

They were about to make a great revolution and arrange a punishment for Aegon.

She obviously couldn't get Aegon killed. Being a kinslayer was a great sin in the eyes of the Realm and Rhenyra didn't wanted to destabilize her reign further. Forcing him to take the Blacks would be less harsh, but still would cause the same problem.

She smiled. She had thought it through.

Daemon softly nudged her. Ah. She had spaced out, it seemed.

She put her arm on his extended arm and they entered the Small Council together.

Rhaenyra sat at the head of the table. It seemed that only her and Daemon’s chairs had been left empty.
On her right sat Daemon as the King Regent and Queen’s Hand; on her left sat her sister and advisor, Crown Princess Helaena.

She turned her loving gaze to Daemon and Helaena beside her, then looked over all the council members.

Around the table sat: Grand Maester Munkun, Master of Coin Tyland Lannister, Master of Ships Corlys Velaryon, Master of Whisperers Prince Aegon Targaryen, Commander of the Kingsguard Ser Erryk Cargyll, Master of Laws Aemond Targaryen and advisor Crown Prince Jacaerys Targaryen.

She had made their appointments a few days after her coronation and was very pleased with her decisions.

Except for Aegon, that is.

Even though surprisingly, Aegon was one of those who did the best work. With his golden dragon, he travelled across all Westeros and brought Rhaenyra valuable intelligence. (He also brought many bastards into the Realm, too...)

This would change today, though.

After Otto Hightower and Criston Cole's execution and Alicent's exile, many things had changed. The whole kingdom had bent the knee to her, and with her coronation, House Targaryen had become united once more.

In this, her siblings’ contributions could not be denied—especially Helaena’s. (Yes, even Aegon's. Aegon was the one who willingly stepped down)

Rhaenyra looked at Helaena and smiled at her. She smiled back, with her usual dreamy smiles. Rhaenyra was very glad that she had declared her a Royal Advisor. Helaena was a Dragondreamer, just like Daenys Targaryen. Every word she spoke was worth gold.

On Helaena’s other side sat Jacaerys. As the Crown Prince and another advisor, he was an essential part of every meeting.

Rhaenyra looked at her son and daughter-in-law with pride. She was sure they would become great rulers in the future. Maybe like Alysanne and Jaehaerys, maybe even better. Who knows?

Clearing her throat, she announced they would begin with the first topic.

Rhenyra began to speak.
“Today, we will make decisions important to the Royal order. First, I have decided to reorganize Prince Aegon’s duties in the court.”

Tyland raised his brows slightly but said nothing.

Jacaerys spoke directly:
“Prince Aegon behaved improperly toward both Prince Joffrey a week prior. He insulted him and tried to harass him. My younger brother responded—with a punch.” He paused and tried to hide his smile. He couldn't.

Rhenyra nodded. “For this reason, he has been removed from the position of Master of Whisperers. Until a new candidate is proposed, the position will remain empty. Prince Aegon will intead be banished to Tyrosh.”

Aegon had an eerie expression in his face. "I object the accusations. This is ridiculous! I did not do any harm on Joffrey, I was just joking!"

Daemon had a dark expression. Rhaenyra gulped. Things were about to get ugly...

"In my book, when a prince of the Realm was, say, disturbed in such a way, the perpetrator's hand or tounge would be cut off."

With this, whole room froze. Especially Aegon was extremely pale.

Daemon continued with a smile that did not reach his purple eyes. 

"Your 'jokes' had started to become too much. How many people had been suffered because of your 'jokes' ? There are many bastards of yours throughout the Realm. Whores are sending letters of pale haired children, maids are whispering with fear, and yet you have the audacity to claim all of this are 'Joke'. You are the joke."

Aegon seemed stunned. Everyone was looking at him. Even Aemond was apathetic. Daemon looked like a predator letting his prey go with heavy injuries, regretting not destroying him completely.

Rhenyra was thinking of this for whole week.

She was doing it for Helaena too. Helaena was the one who suffered the most among all of them. She was even almost-raped if not for Jacaerys. 

Rhaenyra was mad that she couldn't have some repercussions for Aegon at that time, yet her father had defended Aegon for the first time in his life, saying 'A man can have his fiance if he wants. They will get married one day, besides, he didn't do anything to her anyway."

Rhaenyra was extremely dissapointed. They even had a fight, but it didn't change anything. She couldn't do anything... Still, she made sure Aegon was away from her. That was the least she could do.

He still was a disturbing presence, but he was afraid of Jacaerys and Jacaerys had never left his wife alone with Aegon.

However, harassing a princess in the past along with harassing a prince now? It would give Rhaenyra the excuse to banish him.

Realm might say Aegon's banishment was unneccesary. There might be some rebellions in Tyrosh because of Aegon.

But, she had another solution for that. Maybe it wouldn't prevent it completly, but would definately slow it down. 

Yet, Sunfyre alone would be no match against all of the living dragons (even if Aegon had somehow held him with him). Even if Vhagar and Aemond wouldn't fight against them, Helaena and Dreamfyre definately would.

Dreamfyre was second largest living dragon (even bigger than Vermithor) and Helaena is not a warrior but she would mount Dreamfyre with killing intent gladly, just to see Aegon burnt.

Aegon was obviously panicing. "You cannot banish me! I am the prince of the Realm! I didn't do anything to deserve this! If everyone who had said something that the omegas disliked, everyone should've been banished already!"

Rhenyra laughed without any warmth.

"Things omegas disliked? Bold of you to call it that, when what you did was attempted rape. I was waiting to give a long overdue justice for Helaena too anyway. You totally deserve this. I will not listen any further. You had acknowledged me as your Queen in front of everyone when I was crowned, you pledged loyatly to me. You shall prove your loyalty. Dismissed, brother."

Aegon was seething when he stormed off the door. Nobody seemed to care pay a particular attention to the door he shutted off way too harshly.

Helaena seemed releived. Her lilac eyes looked at her with fondness.

Rhaenyra returned it with a fonder smile. She always wanted to punish Aegon for what he had done.

She was glad of the outcome.

For Helaena and Joffrey and many others who suffered because of this lowlife pervert, she would gladly take the risk of a possible rebellion. Not that he would dare, but still.

She nodded at Tyland Lannister. He nodded back and quickly unrolled the parchment in front of him and spoke:

“Ahem, the next subject... Lannisport, Gulltown, and Duskendale—the port cities request permission to increase their trade quotas, be exempt from some taxes, and increase the number of their city guards.”

Corlys said suspiciously, “There is something behind these demands. They are trying to take advantage of the impression that the kingdom is weak.”

Rhaenyra shook her head. “No lord or city may enlarge its own guard army. If we allow this, their next step will be autonomy. Reject this completely. But their request for tax reduction can be considered.”

Tyland hesitated. “But their demands are so large that the royal expenses cannot carry the burden.”

Rhaenyra sighed. Daemon spoke up: “Then this brings us to our third subject. Present the state of the treasury, Lord Lannister.”

Tyland Lannister put aside the parchment and took on a more serious expression: “The royal treasury is nearly drained by the expenses left from the previous king. And besides those debts, the cost of the Tournament was heavy.”

Grand Maester Munkun added, “Winter is at the door. Grain imports must begin, as we do not know hoe many years the upcoming winter would exactly last. However, the Braavosi traders do not want gold—they want trade privileges. They are Westeros' biggest grain supplier but we have to find a way to solve this. If not, this will cause unrest among the people.”

Rhaenyra said firmly, “Then simplify the ceremonies. The time of waste is over. The hearts of the people are won with bread, not with spectacle.”

Jacaerys offered: “We can cover this deficit by reorganizing port taxes. I will prepare a draft law.”

Rhenyra nodded. Jacaerys was very good at preparing drafts, he had her full trust on that.

"Very good, Jacaerys. Please present the draft at our next council meeting." She said. "Grand Maester, could you also create a detailed report on our grain imports and possible ways to supply grains for the winter?"

Grand Maester smiled. "Gladly, your grace."

Daemon took the floor. ''Next topic is about my daughters Rhaena and Baela. Corlys, you know that we are preparing a draft law for all these months which will be presented today. Laenor passed away with no children and Baela and Rhaena are your only  granddaughters by Laena and I."

Corlys raised his right brow with a challanging smile, knowing where the subject would get to. Rhenyra squeezed her husband's hand.

"The matter of next Driftmark ruler and next Master of ships are now open to discussion."

Now, the small council was full of enthusiasm for stating their opinions, unlike the silence for Aegon's banishment. Rhaenyra actually had to stop the chatter to talk, though she wasn't annoyed at all. If anything, she was amused.

"Yes, before my daughters' inheritance rights, lets talk about our draft law. Then we will come straight to this topic."

Daemon seemed pleased. He gave her his charismatic, approving look.

"Today is the day we make a revolution of laws. Everyone, especially Aemond, had worked hard for this. I thank you all. Now, Aemond, please do read the draft."

Aemond nodded. "Thank you your grace." Then, he opened his notebook. It had a brown, thick cover with many pages. 

"Laws on inheritance: 130 edition. This law explains a new inheritance rule that would apply to every single household starting by the year 131 and will keep doing so not otherwise changed."

Everyone was silently watcing Aemond with slight excitement.

"The rules should be redo as the last update was made by King Jaehaerys 40 years ago. Especially the inheritance rules. Now, inheritance rules are  vague, uncodified, subject to varying interpretations and often contradictionary. We had found a way to fix this."

Rhaenyra looked at her brother with pride. He did extremely well, to be honest. He always was a bookworm and a warrior, therefore she had appointed him as her Master of Laws. He never dissapointed her so far.

He and Grand Maester Munkun were studying and creating this law for about two moons and the last draft she had read a night prior was plainly excellent.

Grand Maester had reported to her that Aemond had come up with creative solutions and had really worked hard for this. She was actually thinking of rewarding him in some way.

"From now on, inheritance will pass over the eldest child regardless of sex. In Andal descendants, this rule would follow as the eldest alpha son, then the if there are, the eldest beta son and the omega son. Then came the daughters. Some lords also put their alpha daughters before their beta or omega brothers."

Aemond flipped another page and kept reading with utmost confidence.

"In the North and Riverrun, many houses follow First Men tradition. First men are the only race that could have male omegas, and they are accepted as natural born leaders. So, they actually do not differentiate between alpha and omega sons. The inheritance belongs to the eldest son. Daughters are also the same, no difference between alpha and omega, but they are still preferred over their brothers."

It was an interesting thing, really. Harwin had two elder sisters (two omegas) and a younger omega brother. And, he was the one who inherit Harrenhal. But if Larys were to be older, he would have inherited Harrenhal.

Too bad he didn't live long to see the inheritance of Lucerys. Too bad, really... as he died too quickly.

Even after all these years, when remembering the bastard, she would feel enraged that she couldn't revive and kill him again. No one could bring Harwin back to her, but knowing Larys was rotting deep in the ground was soothing regardless.

"Rhoynars of Dorne only values the birth order. Regardless of the gender, eldest child can inherit."

He solemnly flipped another page.

"Ancient Valyrians had the custom of co-ruling. After Daenys the dreamer had moved to dragonstone with her family, they co-ruled for generations. The custom continued until Aenys I Targaryen. Rhaenys and Visenya were not consorts, they were actual, equal Queens. It is not about the actual ruler by name, they had the exact same rights."

There was an amazed silance at that. Everyone seemed stunned that Aemond was such a great researcher. Maester Munkun was looking at him with blatant pride.

"Jaehaerys and Alysanne Targaryen were the only ones after the conquerors to have an 'Almost equal' ruling. Alysanne, in contrast to conqueror Queens, was less involved but she still had many changes done in her time.

"However, at council 101, female inheritance was ignored completely. Princess Rhaenys was supposed to be the Queen as she is the eldest child of the eldest son, yet the council decided against it and named Viserys I as the successor, the eldest grandson.

The inheritance law starts at 131 year and before this, every single inheritance decision shall remain intact. Because, if not so, there will be great turmoil and chaos.

We will follow a mix of Rhoynar and Valyrian customs as the Royal family. Eldest child will inherit, but the spouse of the King or Queen would have an almost-equal stance, just like conquerors. 

Eldest child will inherit, too, every other region in the Realm. Co-ruling does not apply to them."

Everyone looked at Aemond with awe and respect. Even Rhaenyra was suprised. She knew that her brother was excellent in his studies and never got out of library when he wasn't training but this had exceeded her expectations. 

It might not seem impressive from outside, but reading the records of pre-conquest was hard already as the Ancient Valyrian then was written with words even older than Balerion. Even for Maesters.

Yet, somehow, Aemond and Grandmaester Munkun had found a way to translate scripts even older than doom of Valyria.

Rhaenyra had even praised Aemond to Daemon once, and her husband had snorted at this.

She knew Daemon was not fond of Aemond at all. He saw him as a nasty dog drooling for his son. Rhaenyra thought of him so too, but her impression of him had changed over the time of his draft preperation for the better.

He might be, perhaps, okay for trying his chance kn Lucerys's hand.

"Thank you, my prince. You and Grandmaester had worked hard for this. I thank both of you for that."

Maester Munkun smiled a bit, but his eyes had a sincere pride for Aemond. Aemond seemed as stoic as ever but his violet eye was shining with happiness.

"It was our pleasure" Munkun said. Aemond only nodded.

"Any objections or contributions?"

Everyone was silent. Rhaenyra smiled.

"None, it seems. Then the law will be announced and published today. Any objections by the lords will be listened. Any revolts against the law will be punished accordingly."

After the approval died down, Corlys Velaryon cleared his throat. He was looking at Daemon. Daemon nodded at him.

"Now, the topic is on next Driftmark ruler and next Master of ships. Corlys, you tell the idea."

"Until this moment, Master of ships were usually of Velaryon heritage. And, now that the new law is introduced, I have two heirs: Rhaena and Baela. They will be my heir, not their husbands or some other lord."

Rhaenyra smiled. Yes, with this law, Driftmark will be her daughter's one day, officially.

"I am both master of ships and Lord of Driftmark. But the girls had spoken to me about this. They do not want to have one of them to be both. They are twins and it doesn't matter now that Rhaena is an omega. I want Rhaena to be my heir and I suggest Baela to be the next master of ships and the admiral of my fleet."

Tyland Lannister frowned at this. "Lord Corlys, the title of 'Master of ships cannot be inherited. Why are you suggesting to make Lady Baela inherit a position that cannot be inherited?"

Corlys smiled calmly but his eyes had none of it. "It was a suggestion, my lord. If the Queen disapproves, I will appoint her as my right hand woman and as my admiral."

Grandmaester interjected calmly. "My lord, may us learn the reasoning behind your decision to make Lady Baela the Master of ships instead of Lady of Driftmark?"

This time, Daemon answered. "We spoke with the girls. Baela and Rhaena wanted so. Rhaena has a gift in dealing with people but she dislikes fighting. Baela doesn't like people, but she is very good at fighting and navigating. They also think so."

"Baela will be a great Master of Ships" Helaena said. Daemon smiled brightly at her, gladdened by her prophecy-like affirmation.

Tyland's brows were still furrowed but he said nothing.

Rhaenyra shuffled the papers in front of her. That was the last topic they will discuss, so she was ready to dismiss everyone after her decision.

"Very well. I approve of Rhaena's succession. For Baela, I will appoint her as your admiral now."

Corlys smiled calmly. "I am ready to step down, your grace. I would like to spend more time with my lady wife. If that would make you consider her as your next master of ships candidate, I am very willing to do it."

"Very well. Then she shall be my master of ships. I relieve you of your duty. Thank you for your service."

Corlys Velaryon seemed actually relieved. "It was my pleasure."

Daemon had cleared his throat. "My lords, ladies. Now we had concluded our meeting. See you next time."

The sound of chairs getting pushed had filled the room, and everyone started to exit the small council. Rhaenyra sighed in relief. She was feeling nauseous of late and now was no exception.

She wanted to go rest in her bed more than anything. Then she raised her purple eyes to Daemon's. Her husband was standing before her and room was completely empty. She spaced out again, it seemed.

He extended his hand. She gladly took it and never let go until they reached their chambers.

Aegon was passing through the shadowy corridors of the keep with utmost anger.

He was exiled. How dare they! They didn't even had the right to do so, he was the eldest son of the previous king, how dare they do this to him!

He gritted his teeth. He had supported the bitch for her coronation and he was regretting it like a dog now. (The odds might or might not have on her side but still, he could try to start a rebellion for it!)

He was roaming around the corridors aimlessly for what feels like eternity, at the corridors down under. The very corridors and tunnels that carried him to silk road and back to the keep many many days.

He had never seen a single soul (other than a fucking cat which he kicked after it hissed at him) for all his roaming.

Then, he turned another corner and saw them both from afar.

Jacaerys and Helaena.

Helaena's hand was on Jacaerys's arm. She was smiling in a way she never did to him. Her head was tilted in a way that enables that cunt to whisper something at the bitch's ear. She laughed at whatever he said to her. 

They both seemed so calm and natural. Until they noticed him, that is.

Helaena had this scared expression that she made whenever they met. And the corridor was quickly getting filled with an angry alpha scent of fire blood and some sour fruits that he couldn't differentiate now. His face was no different.

Aegon felt nauseated. He felt someting moving inside him. Like a rusty anger. No one was supposed to be happy. No one. 

Especially not Helaena.

Before he could stop himself, he started to walk towards the pair. Helaena visibly flinched and covered her ears, and Jacaerys unsheated his blade and stepped forward, completely blocking her from him.

His shit colored eyes were looking at him with utmost fury. The scent was unbearable now. "Aegon, get the fuck out" he said with a dangerous tone.

Aegon had drunk like... what? 6 or 7 goblets of wine today (mostly while roaming around, because why wouldn't he walk around without wine). He was brave! "Or, what will you do?"

Jacarerys blatanly raised the blade. It shone with the fire of torches, blinding him temporarily. "I'll kill you."

Aegon gulped. He wanted to get the fuck out for real, but his eyes focused on Helaena that had appered a bit behind Jacaerys again and he forgot that he had to get away.

"My dear sister. How are you doing?"

Jacaerys's expression was simply murderous. "Do not speak to her" he hissed.

Helaena, to both of their surprise, had touched Jacaerys's shoulder shoulder and stepped forward. Jacaerys's murderous expression changed into anxiety for a flash of time.

Helaena stepped forward until she was right next to that low-life bastard. 

Her lilac eyes were cold, and it somehow hurt him more than the murder intent of Jacaerys. Aegon had looked at her up and down. She was wearing a dress of red, her hair had a silver stick-pin that had three headed dragon motif on and her left hand had a valyrian steel dragon-motifed ring on her ring finger. Identical to the low-life's.

Her eyes were looking at his soul.

"Are you happy like that?" Aegon asked. He hated the way his voice had shivered. "You should've been mine. You should've married me. Why, why did you left me?"

Helaena laughed humorlessly. Jacaerys had a vicious smile on his cunt face.

"Let me ask you a question instead. What have you ever given to me, Aegon?"

His lips have moved but no sound came out. Helaena smiled mirthlessly.

"Let me answer that by myself. Pain, Aegon. That was all you have given to me. Crying for days. Feeling disgusted your mere touches and looks. Feeling utterly unloved and misunderstood. Tell me, why would I want you when all you have done to me was harm?"

Helaena was now shivering with anger. Jacaerys had put his arm on her shoulder and her shivers visibly eased. But she kept looking at him. Her lilac eyes were so different from her usual dreaminess.

"You are a rotten branch, Aegon. You have been neglected but that only intensified the evil inside you. Evil can be created by hand, but yours was something innate, only increased by hand."

After a few seconds of silence that felt like aeon, she spoke again.

"You want to take me away from Jace and my happy life. You want everyone, especailly me to be as miserable as you. But you will not be able to. I know it."

He felt a chill down on his spine.

"You will die, Aegon. With agony. Your death is not that far away. Before you die, you will do one last evil. You will stir poison. You will do the Realm bad, but you still will not be effective."

Aegon's face had become white as sheet. He felt it. Helaena turned her back to him.

"And, when that time comes, nobody will remember you. Not even for cursing you. Because, you were never loved and never deserved love."

Jacaerys turned to him briefly, and told him to fuck off. This time, he did.

He felt his sweat cool down on his back. The pair had dissappeared. He walked at the exact opposite direction. His knees felt like giving up. But he kept standing. Kept walking.

His fury was ver much alive.

And he was left alone.

The stones of the corridor were cold, but what lay within him was colder still. Helaena’s voice kept echoing in his ears.

“You will die… soon…”
“And no one will remember you.”

He dug his nails into his palm.

Those words burned like an insult carved into his flesh. Helaena was meant to be his. Once, she had been a pitiful thing—curled in on herself, weeping, unable to sleep at night from the shaking cold of fear.

How had she become another man’s now?
How had she grown strong enough to turn her back on him?

"I would have given you the life you deserved…” he thought bitterly.
“…but you chose your own wretched freedom.”

Her happiness sat in his throat like a stone.

Happiness?
Who truly deserved such a thing? Certainly not Helaena.

Aegon himself had been cast into miserable loneliness from the day he was born. The disappointment in his mother’s eyes. His father and grandfather’s silent neglect. Growing up beneath Aemond’s shadow. Even Colw bastard disliked him before getting hanged like a low-life.

Then no one should be happy.
They must not be. He wasn't happy.

Least of all Helaena.

His eyes narrowed.

A face formed in his mind. A child. About six years of age. Silver hair, bright purple eyes. Freckles upon his cheeks. Just like Helaena.

Daemon.

He remembered a night in Lys. A burning, careless night with Serenei of Lys. She looked a lot like Helaena, and he couldn't fuck Helaena in her wedding with another man, so he settled for the next best thing.

Since then, he had seen Serenei often. She was the woman he had shared his bed with most.
They lived in Lys now, with the child.

Could they not live in Tyrosh instead?

My son.
And I gave him his name.

The boy was a perfect, smaller mirror of Helaena. Even Serenei was not that similar looking to Helaena. And that truth both unsettled and enchanted him. It was as though he had birthed her again—only this time, she would be his. Truly. Forever.

“I must bring that child to Pentos,” Aegon thought.
“He must grow beside me. Before all their eyes. I will name him my heir—despite them. In defiance of them.”

No matter how much Helaena denied it, no matter how brightly she laughed upon Jace’s arm…
There is still a place inside her that belongs to me, his mind whispered.

And one day, I will take it back.

He imagined her suffering. Her tears. Even when she said she did not love him, he dreamed of knowing that some small corner of her heart was still his.

To see her again on her knees. Broken. In pain.

Only then would he know peace.

For every time Helaena laughed, something inside him cracked.
No one could leave Aegon Targaryen and find happiness.

He would not allow it.