Chapter Text
acid rain
chapter 01:
bleeding gem
Aemond Targaryen has never been favoured by the gods. Being the second son brought him a lack of his own, while Aegon got everything without even wanting it, without even deserving it: a dragon hatched in his cradle, a great name, expectations and attention. Aemond got nothing, the dragon egg that laid in his cradle never hatched, like a bad omen, as if he were unworthy. When he was younger, his nervousness did not allow him to interact with his brother and nephews, the only one he talked to was his beloved sister Helaena, but she sometimes does not listen, too lost in something no one else sees. Like a conviction, Aemond was fascinated with his history, with the meaning behind the Targaryen name, dragons, fire and blood, Aegon the Conqueror, Queen Visenya, and Queen Rhaenys. The black dragon that brought all of Westeros to its knees.
His name became their curse and their delight. Reality was cruel to him, books and old pages were kinder. They were supposed to protect their own, but Aegon never cared, rolled his eyes and called him a fool every chance he got...not that Aegon cared at all, particularly Aemond sometimes thinks Aegon would rather live his life in numbness; he can't blame him sometimes. Aegon has never wanted anything he has, neither their mother's expectations nor the throne she desperately wanted to put him on. While Aemond studied, Aegon tried to kill himself every day, whether it was in the depths of a cup full of wine or in the danger of the city.
Their mother was cruel, but she was also kind—sometimes—and present, unlike their father, he only stayed in his chambers, always ill, always tired and weak. Their father always loved Rhaenyra the most, would get out of bed for her, promise her the world and smile at her. His—their—father once called him Baelon—he didn't even realise he was calling him by the name of his dead son with Aemma Arryn, his first wife. He also tends to call his mother Aemma when he feels bad. She never corrects him. Neither does he. Their mother would slap Aegon's face whenever she found him vomiting after a night in the Silken Streets, but she would also hold his face and kiss his forehead.
It was easy to make mother happy, even when Aegon doesn't see it. Study and train, stay out of trouble, out of the city, why go about the city anyway? Don't speak if no one speaks to you, bend the knee to the Seven and pray every day. Be obedient, be docile, be quiet. Aemond was particularly good at making his mother happy. Aegon spoiled everything and Aemond cleaned it up; that's how it works. When the world was too cruel, his mother was kind, less cruel, warm and present, in a way that no one else in his life was. Except maybe Helaena, but then again, Helaena is hardly present.
One'd think everything was peaceful until it was no longer peaceful.
It began on Aegon's name day, when he presented himself as omega. Mother looked at him with those big, disappointed eyes of hers, she expected an alpha, of course she did, even Aemond thought Aegon would be an alpha; but the dream died as he writhed in bed, smelling of honey and fresh flowers. Aemond was the one who found him, opened the door to his room, ready to drag his pitiful brother to the breakfast table; Aegon groaned in his bed, white blankets covered in blood, sweat on his face, dilated eyes, greasy hair and trembling legs. He dragged his ass on the blankets, blood and omega slickness flowing from his body like rivers, tears streaming down his cheeks.
Please, he had begged, Aemond froze in place. Please, please, please, please. His voice was sweet, in a way he had never heard before, full of desperate, wild eyes, begging for something to soothe his pain.
Their mother took him away and shouted at him not to come into the room. Oddly enough, their father was pleased, the old alpha announced the betrothal between Aegon and Rhaenyra's firstborn the next day. His elder sister accepted, of course, even when Jacaerys was younger than Aegon, presented as alpha at fourteen.
Aegon's freedom died that day, Aemond saw it as clear as the sky. He never set foot in the city again, their mother forced him to stop drinking, taking most of the wine in the Red Keep with him. She forced him to play nice, because he was now an omega, and he had to be good. Be obedient, be docile and be quiet. To lower his head, expose his neck, and never displease an alpha. Aegon remained quiet, his mother was pleased. It was the way of the Seven, the right way.
With Aegon omega and betrothed to Rhaenyra's heir, the war between his side of the family and his older sister seemed to stop. His mother resented Rhaenyra, for something Aemond does not know, but his mother is an omega and Rhaenyra an alpha. His mother always bowed her head to her; because so the Seven proclaim. When his grandsire died of severe fevers in Old Town, his mother never again tried to get Rhaenyra to claim the Iron Throne.
Helaena presented herself as beta at the age of fifteen. Rhaenyra was disappointed, as she wanted to betroth her sister to her second son. Their father the King proclaimed that they should wait as Lucerys had not yet come forward and neither he nor Daeron had—even if Daeron was just a little boy who couldn’t even speak yet.
Aemond was never too friendly with his nephews, sometimes they tended to be as cruel as Aegon. Aemond preferred to avoid them, especially Jacaerys. Lucerys was kind, everyone knew that, even his mother addressed him as the Kind Prince, he was Rhaenyra's favourite son, her treasure and her heart. At his young age, everyone assumed Lucerys would be a sweet little omega, but some forgot that he was just like Rhaenyra at his young age, yet she is one of the most respected alphas in Westeros. Even when she decided to marry a beta and bear children herself, she was cruel in royal matters, some called her Princess Rogue behind the King's back; the braver ones called her Maegor with tits.
It was the day the real Rogue Prince returned when it all came crashing down. Laena Velaryon was dead, Daemon Targaryen came home to two daughters and a dead wife, also with the greatest dragon alive.
Vhagar's call was only the beginning. He claimed Vhagar, the greatest dragon alive, the war dragon of Visenya Targaryen, the greatest warrior who ever lived, even better than Aegon the Conqueror, the first alpha woman to sit on the Iron Throne beside her husband. He also claimed royal blood that day. If one asks Aemond what really happened, he wouldn't know. It's all too blurry, too much madness and rage, the next thing he knows he's gouged Lucerys' eye out with a dagger. His mother had never looked at him with the same look she gives Aegon until that day, Rhaenyra was not happy, it scared Aemond if he were honest, yet he didn't ask for payment.
It became even worse when he presented himself as omega and Lucerys as alpha. Father immediately compromised them, right after Lucerys presented, some weeks after him. He hadn't seen Lucerys in years when he left with his grandsire Corlys for Essos on a trip that was supposed to teach him about the House Velaryon.
Aemond can't think of anything worse than being an omega, perhaps his mother's words. The heat was horrible, the most humiliating thing he has ever experienced in his life. He is a warrior, the best swordsman in the Keep, second only to his uncle Daemon, rides the greatest dragon alive, and yet now nothing matters. Because he's an omega, and his mother doesn't like the way he is.
Laenor Velaryon also died, and Rhaenyra married Daemon in a secret Valyrian wedding at Dragonstone. It's not the first marriage between alphas, but it's unusual and untraditional. They don't care, they scare everyone in the Keep. If one says a word against Rhaenyra's claim, their head will roll the next day down the corridors of the Red Keep. The King is too ill now, Rhaenyra and Daemon have taken control of the council. And everyone fears the Dark Sister enough to keep their mouths shut.
Lucerys is twenty-two weeks old. He's on his way to King's Landing for their wedding. Aemond wants to run, but his mother's nails digging into his flesh hold him back. He is a warrior, he is not weak, and he has worked hard to be where he is, yet he has never been so terrified.
Aegon is pregnant now, and a big belly makes him walk funny and grimace every day.
"You're being dramatic," his older brother complains, rolling his eyes and sitting up in his bed with some difficulty. "You're an omega, stop trying to suppress your nature, it will only hit you back in the face, harder."
"I do not wish my second gender to rule my entire life," his own words are bitter, he has been ignoring the issue for years, earning the displeasure of his mother and everyone in the castle.
The Royal Cunt, as they call him, doesn't even look like an omega, he is narrow-hipped, sharp-featured, ill-tempered and cold. Aegon blossomed quickly, as mother used to say, his skin glows in that strange way, his hips are wider. He knows Aegon enjoys his position, he never wanted the throne, and being just the omega brought him some freedom, even though he hasn't had any real freedom since. Always attached to Jacaerys, as if he were not his whole being but a part of his alpha, as if he no longer existed but Jacaerys. No one sees him as his own person, only as the omega of Jacaerys. Aemond can think of nothing more wretched.
"Seven Hells," he curses. "You are a fool. Listen to me, little brother, for once in your stupid life. Do what you're supposed to do, don't resist, Aemond, you'll only make it worse. Spread your legs, suck his cock and expose your neck; you might enjoy it if you play nice," his terse words make him shudder, panic rising inside him.
"You sound like our mother."
Aegon laughs, "I've never heard our mother say the word cock, I'm afraid she might faint if she ever does," he clutches his belly, a groan escapes his throat. "I'm going to be honest with you in a way my mother never will. If you don't please, they'll take him anyway. It will hurt, pain you've never experienced on the battlefield or in your heats. Shut the fuck up and play nice, believe me when I tell you this, Aemond, alphas can be cruel. You think you have no control now? One word from them can take away all your free will. As if you never existed, just a puppet and an incubator. Don't be silly and play along, otherwise you'll end up like a drugged up Flea Bottom whore and no one gives a shit about whores."
His tone is cruel but honest, Aemond feels his stomach cringe and wants to puke already. This is such a cruel world for omegas and nothing will ever change it—all his life he's struggled to be something else, and now he's destined to be the whore of the boy who hates him the most. He took his eye and mutilated him, now he'll have all the control over him—how is he not supposed to freak out? Even if Lucerys turns out decent, he's still an alpha, and he's still just an omega. Aegon's words are a bloody chant swaying inside his head.
Spread your legs, suck his cock and expose your neck.
Be obedient, be docile, be quiet. Be nothing.
Before his silence, Aegon snorts, "If Lucerys is anything like Jace, you'll be fine. I'm playing the worst-case scenario for you. Not all alphas are trash."
"Has he ever used that on you?"
Aegon's face contorts and his violet eyes flash before he closes them, "Once," he admits, a false smile on his face. "I deserved it, to be honest."
"How could you deserve that shit, Aegon?" he is sounding hysterical now, Aegon seems to have a sudden headache.
"I was threatening to drink a whole bottle of wine when I found out I was pregnant," his voice cuts him off. "I would have killed the baby," he sounds embarrassed, rubbing his hand across his belly. Aemond thinks being omega has changed his brother, he also thinks it hasn't changed him that much.
He's an unconventional omega, everyone is happy to remind him of that every day. The Royal Cunt is not only an omega who wears combat armour, he is also the one who has defeated all the alphas in combat, humiliating them. Aemond drugs himself on suppressants every day, trying to get rid of his scent and pretending to be a beta. He forces himself to forget all his heats, the need to be...it's too humiliating. Aemond hates it and hates himself, he likes to ignore his second gender all the time even if it physically hurts. He has an advantage: no one dares to treat him like an omega or that on him because he is royalty, his future husband has no such obligations to him and his status is even higher than Aemond's.
"Just try to take it peacefully," Aegon says again, sounding weary.
They are not too close, but Aemond knows that Aegon would be far more honest than his mother, especially since she can barely look at him because of the life he chose to take. She is religious and conventional—Queen Alicent has called him a deviant and a disgrace to her. He is supposed to be like Aegon, resigned to his life, being a good omega to his husband. It's funny how the sides have changed, now it's Aegon who makes her happy.
"I mutilated him, I'm not so sure I can take it easy as you say," his mutterings only make Aegon snort harder.
"One eye didn't kill him," is all he says. "Be good and you'll be fine."
His words make him gag, but before he can retort back, an intense scent of wood and mint hits his nose. Jacaerys Velaryon has grown taller than Aegon, about Aemond's height. His face has hardened, with straight brown hair pulled back in a male bun and a battle—won scar on his left cheek. Aemond tenses, and Aegon just looks at his husband.
Then, Aemond thinks, Aegon looks so much like a mother, big round eyes and full lips. Despite his white hair and purple eyes, Aegon has always been like the male version of Alicent.
"Prince Aemond," the alpha greets, brows furrowed in confusion.
Aemond feels his stomach turn, "Prince Jacaerys," he greets back, his tone flat. "Forgive me for interrupting your chambers, I was speaking with my brother."
Aegon rolls his eyes, "I'm just giving him some advice on married life, you know," he tells his husband with a mischievous smile on his lips. Jace snorts loudly and smiles back, sincere.
"I bet you do, my love," he replies, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his forehead. Aegon inadvertently releases pheromones of pleasure, and the scent of honey stuns Aemond's nose. "How do you feel?" he asks as he places his hand on Aegon's pregnant belly.
"She's such a kicker," he moans, a grimace on his face.
Jace laughs, "You're so sure it's a girl."
"She's inside me, I can feel her," he sounds serious, but Jace just nods and kisses him again, this time on the lips, Aemond looks away. "It's alright. I've experienced worse in my bachelor days in the Silk Streets."
His words make Jace's smile fade. Aegon is still smiling, clearly mocking him for not having had his virtue when they married. Jace puts his thumb to his omega's chin and forces him to look at him, almost rudely.
"Do not try my patience, Aegon," he tells him, but rather than a warning it feels like a request. "Not today."
When he lets go of his face and turns away, Aegon frowns. "Everything okay?" his voice is flat now.
Aemond feels completely out of place, and incredibly uncomfortable after appreciating such a close alpha-omega intimate dynamic. He feels sick if it. He starts to rise, trying not to release pheromones.
"I think I should go," he says as formally as he can. He can hear Aegon's sigh.
"No, I think this matters to you. Please stay. Besides, some omega company is good for Aegon and the pup," he asks, and even in such a kind tone, Aemond wants to scream.
"Of course," he replies with a clenched jaw.
"What is it this time?" Aegon demands to know. "I've been behaving amazingly well the last few weeks."
His comment brings a smile to Jace's face, who nods and folds his arms, "Advanced pregnancy does that to you, you can barely move," he replies and Aegon snorts. Jace's smile quickly fades, and to his own surprise, Jace looks up at him. "Vaemond Velaryon is challenging my brother's claim to Driftmark. My mother is unhappy, and when she is unhappy, Daemon falls into madness. All is chaos in the council, we can do nothing but wait for Lucerys' arrival."
"Under what claim?" asks Aegon, sounding like he cares about politics and all that shit he actually despises.
Jace's face contracts, "Our true parentage, of course."
"Bloody Seven Hells," Aegon curses, clutching his belly hard after another kick from the baby. "I thought we were past that."
"So have I," replies his husband. "No. I've heard little from Luce, but he doesn't like this happening again, and neither does Lord Corlys."
Since Rhaenyra married Daemon, no one has dared accuse her of bearing bastards, and after Jace and Lucerys' presentation as alpha, everyone shut their mouths. They still don't look like Targaryen or Velaryons, but Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys never bowed to such accusations, always defending the name of their dead son and his offspring. The only one who shares more traits with the ancient Valyrian blood is, in fact, Lucerys. He inherited the purple eyes of the Targaryens, unlike his elder and younger brothers. Also, Daemon claimed Rhaenyra's children as his own, and no one wants Daemon to lose his head since he beheaded Ser Criston Cole after he screamed that Jacaerys was nothing but a bastard and his mother a whore. Daemon is Rhaenyra's sword, and she uses him every day to further secure her and her son's position. Daemon is always happy to obey his queen. For an old and stubborn alpha, he has always been submissive to Rhaenyra.
Aemond knows this will not end well as Lucerys is Rhaenyra's favourite son, Daemon probably moves like a trapped dragon, longing to bury Dark Sister in Vaemond's head.
"When will he arrive?" he wonders. Jace gives him a neutral look.
"Today," he replies. "Probably soon, he wrote that he would fly to King's Landing, leaving Velaryon's fleet behind. We expect it to be a quick flight, since he claimed Vermithor after Arrax's early death in the battle for the Stepstones. He is one of the greatest living dragons, besides your own."
Jacaerys and Lucerys had fought in the Stepstones for some two years alongside his stepfather and the Lord of Tides, where Jace was scarred and Luke lost his dragon. It was a bloody battle, he heard. However, Queen Alicent wouldn't let him go to help on Vhagar's back, too afraid of his possible death, or his scars, no one wants a scarred omega, she had said. The battlefield was no longer his place, and even when Aemond tried to convince her, she remained unyielding. Even Rhaenyra said that sending him and Vhagar would shorten the war—but even with her support, his mother is still Queen, and her words about her sons cannot be questioned. A year later, Prince Lucerys went to Dragonstone and claimed Vermithor; Aemond heard that Daemon gave him the key to do so since no one had been able to claim the Bronze Fury in years.
Then he left. That was almost five years ago. He is now twenty. For years, Aemond thought of Lucerys as an omnipresent force, because he heard about him every day for five years, but he was never present. He began to think he would never return since their wedding was delayed, they were supposed to be married at Lucerys' eighteenth birthday and his twentieth, but the Prince sent a letter saying the journey would take a little longer, sending his apologies to his mother, Queen Alicent, the King and his betrothed; cold, distant words. Rhaenyra accepted immediately, unable to say no to any of her children, and his mother accepted with a bitter look on her face, for it was the only thing she could do.
But now it is coming true, and Aemond is not ready.
At some point, he began to think that Lucerys would die before their wedding; that scenario was put into his head, calming him. But he didn't die, and he's coming today. In just a couple of days, he'll be married, a prisoner like Aegon, hiding his misery in the lie of a happy union, because how could anyone be so pleased to be tied down for life? Being treated like a whore by his alpha, just a pretty incubator of heirs.
Aegon might have found it easy to spread his legs and let Jacaerys put his seed inside him every night, letting him do what he wants with him because he is an alpha. Aemond can't do that, he can't even process the thought of their wedding night, he…Seven Hells, he feels like he's about to vomit.
"Will the claim be made today?" Aegon breaks the silence.
"Yes, along with the feast welcoming my brother, also the official announcement of your wedding," he tells Aemond, and Aemond needs to rest his gaze on the ground and breathe, otherwise he does indeed vomit on Jace. The alpha approaches his husband, placing his hands under his hair, thumbs tracing Aegon's cheekbones, "I would like you to come, but only if you are well."
It has been a hard pregnancy for his brother, and yet he is perhaps the most stubborn person in the stronghold next to Daemon Targaryen.
"Of course I'll go," he says immediately. "This baby likes drama."
Jace laughs, "Don't excuse your gossip cravings with our pup."
Aegon smiles, his eyes sparkling at his alpha. Aemond needs to swallow vomit down his throat.
🩸
Inside the throne room, all is silent. The Iron Throne is empty, Rhaenyra standing before it in a wonderful black gown, covered in red gems, Daemon standing behind her, hand on the Dark Sister, squeezing the handler with white fingers. His mother stands beside her, in a dark green dress with her hair pulled back in a complicated bun, braids all over, looking modest. The scents of two angry, domineering alphas are making his legs shake, Rhaenyra and Daemon are not happy to be there, and seem about to cut off everyone's head this afternoon.
Rhaenyra is pregnant again, and her little belly—much smaller than Aegon's—shows off in that dress. That doesn't make her look any less alpha today, though.
Even when the King is still alive and breathing, it's no lie to anyone that his health is declining, Rhaenyra will ascend the Iron Throne, so it's fitting that she's representing the King, plus King Viserys left her on charge the day he couldn't even get out of bed. His mother still has a say in the council, but they listen more to Rhaenyra because she is an alpha and the heir, and it is obvious she will ascend very soon.
For his part, his mother leads, then Jacaerys and Aegon, himself and Helaena. Aegon seems to be having a hard time holding his own body, but he's still standing there. Jace holds his omega tightly in his grip, showing off his big belly. Beside Helaena, little Joffrey stands, and Aegon III and Viserys II, held by their nurses.
The people are gathering, Vaemond Velaryon is at the front, he is an angry beta, and his scent barely shows, it is overshadowed by Rhaenyra and Daemon. Rhaenys is also present, representing Driftmark, his scent as an alpha is strong, but not as pissed off as Rhaenyra's.
They are waiting for Lucerys, but he hasn't shown up, Aemond doesn't know if that's better or worse, maybe he fell off his dragon and drowned, or he's just waiting for an epic entrance, or he got lost. His anxiety is mounting, why can't he just show up? So Aemond can finally let all his hopes die.
"Calm down, your pheromones are making me more nauseous," Aegon spat in his ear. Aemond almost jumped in place.
He doesn't answer, cursing the damn suppressors for not doing their only job, and hoping it won't be too noticeable as Daemon's pheromones are making everyone feel bad.
Aegon hesitates on his side and then leans his body more so no one can hear him as he speaks, "You know, maybe Lucerys is the most pathetic alpha in Westeros, I remember him as such a little boy, all kindness and sweetness. Maybe you don't have to worry so much, he's probably the least alpha man alive, you'll be in control. You'll be fine," his words are planting a spark of hope in his mind, one that, for some reason, feels much worse than imagining a big bad alpha controlling his every step and raping him every night, that image he's had inside his head for five years now.
Aemond nods because it's the only thing he can do, Aegon seems to accept it, his lips in a tight white line, and he approaches Jace again.
Beside him, Helaena stirs, eyes lost to the ground, "The ruby bleeds and claims," she whispers, Aemond barely hearing her. Then she reaches over, takes his hand and digs her nails into his flesh. Now she looks at him, her violet eyes wide, lost in something no one else sees. "The ruby bleeds and claims," she repeats, lets go of his hand and steps back.
Aemond is about to ask her a question, anything at all, or to drag her out of the room. But his words are cut off by Vaemond Velaryon's deep voice.
"Princess Rhaenyra," he begins, his dark eyes fixed on her. "If I may..."
The doors open and Aemond waits for Lucerys, but to his surprise, it is his Lord Father. If anyone had told him earlier that his father was going to get out of bed today, he would have laughed in their face. It was more likely that his elderly father would die today than get up. Everyone seems to have the same reaction, including the mother. Gasps are heard, no one has seen the king in a year and a half, only mother, Rhaenyra and Daemon.
He can barely stand, supporting his weight on a staff, a golden mask covering half of his face. He looks weak, on the verge of falling and dying, but he stands.
"King Viserys Targaryen, first of his name, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar and the First Men. Lord of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the Realm," announces one of the knights. Everyone steps aside so that the King can walk to the throne, even if it is the hardest thing he has ever done in his life.
He is slow, like a dying old dragon dragging his body to the nearest lake, but he is still a dragon. Aemond has never been close to father, his dumb father not good enough to be the King, yet he knows this event will be written in the history books. Rhaenyra looks shocked, on the verge of tears, even Daemon looks startled, it is not easy to startle Daemon Targaryen.
Every step the King takes is a gasp, everyone expects him to fall and die, but he doesn't, he makes it to the throne, groaning in pain as he climbs the steps—as his crown stumbles and falls, but now Daemon holds his body from behind and helps him sit back on the Iron Throne, placing the crown on his head. Rhaenyra and her husband turn away from Viserys, who drops to the throne and catches his breath.
"I must admit my confusion," he begins, sounding breathless. "Why is this ascension being questioned? My grandson, Lucerys Velaryon will inherit Driftmark, along with his soon-to-be husband, my son, Aemond Targaryen."
All eyes fall on him, Aemond needs to dig his nails into his skin to calm himself. Vaemond's crazed stares at him increase his anxiety considerably.
"Without my grandson present, the only person who can speak to Lord Corlys' wishes is his Lady Wife, Princess Rhaenys," the King continues, his gaze settling on his cousin, who steps forward.
"My husband's wish has always been to bequeath Driftmark to Lucerys, Your Grace. The word of my House is not fickle," she says immediately, not even looking at Vaemond. "If Prince Lucerys and Prince Aemond do not bring heirs, then the succession will pass to Baela since she presented as alpha a couple of years ago."
Aemond feels dizzy, his stomach a mess. Suddenly, he feels as if he is the pregnant one, wanting to vomit on every single person in this room.
"Then it's done," says the King, but Vaemond explodes.
"You may run your House as you wish, Your Grace," he begins, rage filling his body. "But not mine, Prince Lucerys is not a true Velaryon! He doesn't deserve to inherit my House when he doesn't even have Velaryon blood running through his veins."
Viserys advances to the throne, his single left eye twitching. He tightens his fingers on the throne, "What are you implying, Vaemond? Don't forget your place," he threatens, but that only infuriates Vaemond more.
"My brother may have been blinded like all of you, but I have not," he mutters. Daemon's eyes bore into him, his hand nearly pulling Dark Sister out. "Lucerys doesn't even care about honour," Vaemond says suddenly, his eyes settling on him now. "He hasn't even taken his omega yet! He hasn't even brought heirs or married Prince Aemond! Why not let his proclaimed omega speak to his alpha's true wishes since you let Princess Rhaenys speak on my brother's behalf?"
Aemond is not an easy person to scare, but when everyone's eyes land on him, the smells of angry alphas, angry betas and trembling omegas make his head explode. They all look at him, expecting him to speak for an alpha he hasn't seen in years. He doesn't even remember what Lucerys looks like, he feels like a ghost in his life, always there but never present. Untouchable. Everyone is expectant, Aemond feels his legs trembling, his inner self screams, his inner omega panics, making him release pheromones full of doubt and fear.
Why aren't his suppressors working? He has never felt so vulnerable in the years since he showed up. This time there is no blood or slipperiness coming from his legs, like the fatal night he showed up, and yet he can't move.
"All right," says his father, and Aemond feels like he's going to throw up this time. But before he can, the doors open again, with the roar of a dragon in the distance, shaking the ground beneath his feet.
A tall silhouette appears, covered in black robes. The strong smell of acid rain and wet dirt hits his nose, making him tilt his body slightly. Suddenly, all eyes leave him.
Lucerys Velaryon is standing in front of them, his clothes wet and the smell of dragon filling the room. He wears a hood over his head, black boots and black gloves. Before the door closes behind him, the demanding figure of the Bronze Fury makes everyone jump in place. When he removes his hood, abruptly, clearly annoyed—the smell of a very angry alpha almost eclipses that of Daemon and Rhaenyra, making all the omegas present feel bad, even Aegon beside him—his scar is visible, roughening his face, and a dark red ruby occupies the place where his left eye is supposed to be. His hair is tousled, with dark brown curls that flutter, dropping raindrops. The ruby glows in the dark, like fluorescent blood.
"I can speak for myself," he says, in a hard tone. He lowers his voice, angry pheromones filling the air.
Aegon moves to his side, trying not to cough, "I can be wrong sometimes, you know," he says in his ear, but Aemond barely listens.
Rhaenyra's second son walks towards the throne, everyone moves out of his way, as he moves, the wielder of a sword swinging, he is taller than Jacaerys, he reminds him of the Breakbones' stature, he looks so much like him now, and everyone notices. Aemond can't take his eyes off him as if he's seeing a real ghost, Lucerys doesn't even look at him, his eyes on the King.
"Lucerys," Viserys says, with clear love in his voice. Rhaenyra seems about to run to him and hug him tightly, but she does not.
"Forgive my delay, Your Grace," Lucerys says, brows furrowed. "The weather has not been kind."
"Don't worry, boy. Please, say what you want to say," Viserys asks, a twisted smile on his face.
"On the word of Your Grace and my grandsire Lord Corlys, the current Lord of the Tides, I will inherit Driftmark once he dies. I must confess my stress when I was told that my birthright was in doubt once again. Especially being next to the current Lord of Driftmark," he grumbles, his jaw clenched, his dark eye on Vaemond and his hand resting on his sword. Physically, he resembles the old Harwin Strong, the Commander of the Guard who died years ago. On the other hand, his posture and expressions scream Daemon Targaryen, even the look in his single left eye. "May I ask what exactly is your claim?" he asks Vaemond.
"You've been shirking your duties for years," he snarls back. Lucerys's eyebrows arch.
"I was already on my way to King's Landing when my grandsire and I received your letter. If you are referring to my marriage to Prince Aemond, then you will be pleased to know that I intend to fulfill my duties to my omega and my House," he declares, flatly, the ruby glowing with rage. "You have no right to accuse my ascension when Lord Corlys is still very much alive and displeased with you, I might add. The only person who could question my birthright is Lord Corlys Velaryon, or perhaps the King or future Queen of these lands. If it was an alpha cock you wanted so badly, all you had to do was ask."
Vaemond's face turns red, his lips parted in anger. Daemon's laughter is all anyone hears before Corlys' brother bursts out for the last time.
"You..." he bites his tongue.
Lucerys doesn't move, "Say it," he whispers, and everything explodes.
"You're a bastard!" Vaemond shouts. "Your mother is a whore who bore bastards! And your omega is a filthy deviant!"
The knights draw their swords, reacting to Vaemond's words of treachery. King Viserys rises, drawing his dagger.
"I'll have your tongue for that!" he declares, but the sound of metal slicing through the air makes Helaena scream.
Lucerys draws his sword and slices, in a perfect cut, Vaemond's head. His head falls next to his dead body, Helaena screams with her hands to her ears, Lucerys wipes the blood from his sword with fingertips covered in black leather blood and raindrops fall to the ground. Aemond can see it now, Valyrian steel, gleaming even as the blood covers its sheen.
"He can keep his tongue," is all he says, between his teeth.
Aegon bows his body once more. "Uhm, I'm usually always wrong, you know."