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Luke is weird at best, Aegon realizes.
There are many things about his nephew that he had ignored the previous times they had been forced to co-exist for the holidays. As years went by he got taller, and broader, taking after his father. Even his hair seems different, with more volume and growing in places like his fucking face, which years prior, when Luke was still a small, sort of pathetic kid, seemed impossible.
This year Luke trails after Rhaenyra as they’re led by Alicent inside the family home, passively walking around with more suitcases that Aegon would be able to lift if he was sober and silent, greeting Aegon and Helaena (who are conveniently by the staircase) with just a nod. Other times, he had called them uncle and aunt, and even given them both stiff hugs. This year seems full of surprises, Aegon thinks, sipping his warm beer. Helaena greets Luke with a smile and manages to give him a brief, still very stiff hug once he’s placed all the luggage on the floor.
After Helaena’s nonsensical babbles, Luke smiles at her, still a little unsure. Now he’s looking down at her, which is another change. “Thanks, aunt,” he says to whatever stupid compliment Helaena just gave him. “Where’s uncle Aemond?”
Aegon perks up at that. Helaena blinks, confused, before she points upstairs. “Unpacking.”
She doesn’t even mention how fucking strange it is for Luke to ask for Aemond when in past years he had been close to running away from Aemond’s murdeous glare many times. Luke simply nods, palming her back again before he pulls back and fucks off somewhere, possibly back to hide behind his mother’s skirts.
“He doesn’t seem as intimidated as before,” Helaena says, returning to Aegon’s side.
“Intimidated? He used to be fucking terrified of Aemond,” Aegon snorts. “You think he finally got some guts with that height sprout?”
Helaena huffs, “He presented earlier this year. A late bloomer. Don’t you ever read the family groupchat?”
Aegon has had that groupchat muted for years. “Ah, right,” he laughs, “An alpha, right. Do you think Rhaenyra gets bored with celebrating presentation after presentation for her little demons?”
The first one had been Jace; an omega. Of course, Aegon should’ve known. A pretty face like that couldn’t be anything else. Joffrey followed shortly after, coming out as an alpha a year ago. When Luke failed to present everyone assumed he was a beta.
“I think it hardly matters. She loves them all,” Helaena frowns. Always the good sibling. “Presenting is a good thing. A special event, I think.”
“Simple betas like us wouldn’t relate.”
And what if Aegon is still a little bitter he didn’t get to present at all? It was his father’s fault, for presenting them all with such stupid expectations (alphas and omegas! The Targaryen dynasty was full of them so you should be one!) and then simply shrugged it off when Aegon and Helaena didn’t present. Daeron failed to present as well, and so their only salvation was Aemond, who presented as an omega a few years back. Aegon felt a little validated when he realized not even being an omega guaranteed Aemond having Viserys’ attention.
“Quit the sadness,” Helaena warns him. “We’ve got plenty to do today.”
He snorts, downing the rest of his beer and placing the empty can in the middle of the stairs.
Helaena, the sentimental, got everyone presents. And when Aegon thinks everyone, he cant’t even fucking start guessing why on earth she would get Daemon Tagaryen a new ashtray. There is a handbag for Rhaenyra, an emerald necklace for Alicent, a set of tea for Otto, a set of watercolors for Rhaena, matching sweaters for Jace, Luke and Joffrey, a scarf and hat for Baela, books for Aemond (how fitting) and even videogames for Daeron, which were Aegon’s selection. Hell, Helaena even got Harwin some fancy, imported beer. She had also bribed Aegon with the promise to write his name on all the cards for the presents as long as he helped her wrap them.
“Sure. You go ahead, I’ll get another beer.”
With a sigh, Helaena nods. “Yours are in the bottom of the freezer, remember. The rest are—”
“For everyone, yes I fucking know.”
Helping Helaena wrapping presents turns out to be easier than Aegon thought. He’s on tape and scissors duty, so he tapes whatever Helaena asks him to and he cuts whatever she asks him to. It’s been simple for the most part, especially after he tuned out Helaena’s rambling about which color to choose for Jace’s present.
At some point, Aemond comes around, standing by the door frame of their dining room with crossed arms and a very familiar scowl.
“Hey,” Helaena smiles. “Nyra and Luke arrived earlier. Did you say hi?”
Aemond rolls his eye, muttering something about eye-cutting twats and sluts that Aegon doesn’t quite catch. He walks over to sit down on the empty chair behind Helaena.
“I want to leave.”
“You just got here,” Helaena sighs, “Surely this can’t be worse than your flat.”
“It is.”
Aegon snorts. “Don’t be like that, Aemond, we’re just starting,” he drawls.
To be fair, it’d be better if Aemond sucked it up right now. Alicent mentioned earlier that she plans for everyone to stay until the first week of January, at the very least. He considers saying so but he fears Aemond’s only eye will pop out of the socket if he does.
“Easy for you to enjoy this, you’re already drunk!” Aemond accuses.
“And? Go tell Mother if you wish,” just to spite him, Aegon takes a long sip from his beer. He loves this brand, the one Helaena gets at that shop by the train station on her way home. “See how that goes.”
“She’s in a very good mood right now,” Helaena mentions suddenly, giggling a bit. “When I went to get the tape, I saw her and Rhaenyra in the kitchen. I think they’re gonna bake together.”
“Epitome of friendship, right there,” Aegon fully laughs now. “Your bar is too low, Hel.”
“I think that the both of them getting to spend time together, no matter what they’re doing, is good,” she corrects. “Besides, isn’t that what Sevenmas is about? Being close to your family?”
Just like clockwork, Aemond scoffs, “Well, if you take into account the mindless consumerism and terrible environmental consequences of such an empty, overhyped holiday, you’d find out that it’s not really what it’s about.”
Helaena’s hands stop where they’re holding pink paper around Rhaena’s watercolor set. “This is important for Mother,” she reminds Aemond, which makes the little bitch look guilty almost immediately. “Let’s try and play nice, yes?”
Aemond nods silently. Helaena gets more tape from Aegon and finishes Rhaena’s present, moving on to Daeron’s. She’s silent as she’s working, and Aemond isn’t really the chatty type, so he’s content just sitting with them and watching.
“So,” Aegon decides that right now is the best moment to open another conversation, “Have you seen Luke? He looks different.”
“He looks just like any other alpha,” Aemond spits. “But even more graceless, somehow. He just looks like a stupid deer in the headlights. When I went to say hi, he couldn’t even look at me. He can’t bear seeing his handiwork or what?”
Interesting, Aegon thinks. First Luke asks about Aemond’s whereabouts and then, when faced with Satan himself, he gets all shy?
Aemond goes on, snorting. “I can’t fucking believe they’re all here. How can Father just invite them? After what he’s done to me?”
Aegon shrugs. “Father likes Rhaenyra.”
“Aegon,” Helaena calls, probably trying to distract them. “I need more tape. Aemond, would you get me that box, please?”
The box in question is a small velvety one, where a beautiful, emerald necklace sits. “Is this for Mother?” Aemond asks as he hands it over, after opening it to sneak a peek.
“Yes,” Helaena nods, “Do you think she’ll like it?”
“Of course she will, Hel. That’s gorgeous,” he says with a grimace. “Now I feel my gift is shit compared to yours. I got her a new case for her phone.”
Aegon snorts, handing Helaena another piece of tape. “What the fuck? Worst gift ever.”
“It’s practical,” Aemond defends. “One of those that has space for your card at the back. She said she wanted one of those.”
“I’m sure she’ll like it,” Helaena comforts their baby brother.
As they’re finishing with Otto’s gift, the door to the dining room opens, and Luke appears. Funnily enough, Aemond’s mood seems to sour instantly.
“Uh, mother and Alicent made these,” he’s holding a place with small, round chocolate chip scones, perfectly decorated with sugar glass. “Would you like some?”
“Holy shit,” Aegon makes grabby hands so quick he almost drops his beer.
Helaena takes one and thanks Luke with a smile. After Aegon grabs three, Luke turns to Aemond, slowly moving the plate towards him, like a scared zookeeper would present a lion with its dinner. Aemond doesn’t move. Aegon bites on a scone, feeling entranced, more entertained than those times Daemon was watching football and Aegon stuck around to see which team would lose.
“Uncle,” Luke calls softly, “Would you—”
“Yes, obviously I want one, if you could just give it to me,” Aemond snatches two scones from the plate and huffs, shoving one into his mouth and turning in the opposite direction to Luke.
For a moment, Luke seems conflicted. His mouth opens and closes, as if he wanted to say something yet had no idea what to say. Finally, he murmurs something about returning to the kitchen and leaves, only one scone remaining on the plate.
“Idiot,” Aemond whispers.
Aegon’s eyes narrow as he watches him furiously eating the second scone.
It turns out that Luke’s weird behavior comes only when Aemond is around.
Aegon decides to watch him a bit better to fuel this theory. In the middle of the afternoon, Harwin arrives with Jace and Joffrey, and everyone decides to have lunch. It’s still two days until Sevenmas, so lunch is simple, sandwiches with a Caesar salad and some fresh bread Alicent made. They eat in silence at the kitchen table; Aegon has sat between Aemond and Helaena on purpose, because that way Luke is directly across from him and when he’s looking between him and Aemond, it doesn’t seem suspicious at all. Very smart of him.
At first, there are only short glances Luke makes at Aemond. Then, when Aemond asks for the salt and Jace moves to grab it, Luke almost flies to take it first and moves across the table to get it closer to Aemond. His eyes shine, painfully obvious. Aemond only lets out a dry thanks that doesn’t seem to affect Luke at all. If anything, it seems he’ll enjoy any interaction with Aemond he can get.
Since everyone is a grown-up now, they have wine as a choice of drink. This turns out to be crucial for Aegon’s discovery: when Aemond’s glass is almost empty, he downs the rest of it in just one go, staining his lips red and making a single drop run from the corner of his mouth to his chin. Anyone else would take a napkin and clean their face, but before Aemond does any of that, his tongue runs quickly over his lips to collect the extra wine. When the display is done, Aegon almost laughs at the look in dear Luke’s face, who seems about to pass out.
Aegon isn’t an idiot. He knows that lust, that sort of want that’s so deep, so intense to feel. He doesn’t have to be an alpha to understand it even, to some level. Well. He doesn’t think he might ever be able to understand exactly how Luke is acting right now, but he’s no one to judge.
He just doesn’t know when it started. Luke hasn’t seen Aemond since last year— since last Sevenmas, if Aegon has to guess. When did he find the time for this little crush?
“I’m sorry, I just remembered I have a call to make,” Luke says, springing from his chair. “I’m done anyway, uh— excuse me.”
Rhaenyra’s soft voice only reminds him to take his plate to the kitchen and wash it, which Luke does in record time. Afterwards Aegon can hear his rushed steps through the stairs.
By his side, Aemond scoffs. “Rude,” he whispers.
The rest follow pretty quickly. Jace and Joffrey go to retrieve their luggage, while Alicent and Rhaenyra start talking about something related to Sevenmas dinner, taking Harwin as hostage, who agrees to everything his wife says with a slight grimace. A few minutes into pretending his empty plate is so interesting and Aegon hears Alicent asking Aemond if he would help her prepare Daeron’s room for his arrival later. Once Aemond seems busy with the upcoming tasks and Helaena is distracted on her phone, Aegon takes the chance and leaves the kitchen as fast as he can.
He doesn’t know in which room Luke is in, it simply happens to be the only door that’s closed in the whole corridor. Almost too easy, he thinks with a chuckle.
As Aegon approaches, he can make out little noises coming from the other side; mostly loud sighs and a ragged breath. Again, Aegon isn’t an idiot, and so the three seconds that it takes him to figure out what’s happening are the most exciting thing in his life. He slows down, making sure his steps are as quiet as possible, and places a hand over the doorknob.
“Hey, Luke?” the moment Aegon speaks, a terrified yelp replaces the sighs.
That is enough warning. Aegon opens the door next, finding an undignified Luke red in the face and moving frantically to, as Aegon guesses, hide his cock back again inside his pants. He’s sitting at an old desk chair, thrown into the corner of the room. This room is more of a storage unit these days, so there’s no desk, just a bunch of brown boxes all around.
“Aegon, what the fuck! You can’t go around opening doors—”
“I called your name,” Aegon rolls his eyes.
Luke is twitchy, almost sweating despite the cold weather, and conveniently placing his hands on his crotch. “I was just— I was busy.”
At that, Aegon snorts, “Yeah, I bet,” but he can’t hold himself and actually laughs. For courtesy, he steps inside and closes the door, but Luke looks positively mortified. “Ah, that’s fine. What’s a little jerking off now and then? I get it. Happened to me more times than I recall.”
Luke looks at Aegon curiously, then says, “What?”
So Aegon sits on the bed, still covered in plastic to prevent dust from collecting from the months this room isn’t in use. “You think I’m gonna tell Rhaenyra or something? Look how your precious boy blew family lunch to rub one off in his room? Nah.”
Luke still doesn’t understand, but his shoulders relax a bit. “Thanks? I guess,” he murmurs.
“You’re welcome. Now, I assume you know what you were doing, right? Jerking off?” at Luke’s tentative nod, Aegon continues, “Let’s talk about why you were doing it.”
“Gross,” Luke says right away.
“Gross? Should I remind you who was mastubating a minute ago? You’re the one who loves adrenaline,” Aegon scoffs. “Is Aemond actually a good visual? No, more like, do you have a death wish?”
Ah, the million dollar question. Luke’s cheeks go red again, and he starts shaking his head, denying the undeniable.
“Unlike my brother, I have two eyes, Luke,” Aegon says before he can make up some shitty excuse. “As a matter of fact, they were very useful to see how you were playing with that salad at lunch. You wanted to eat something else, huh?”
“Shut up! That’s not… that’s not what happened.”
“You can lie all you want, but I know what I saw,” Aegon shrugs. “I just wanted to confirm.”
“Confirm?”
“Yeah. You got here acting all weird, and I got curious. Who would’ve thought it was Aemond all along?”
Luke isn’t rushing to deny it, which Aegon counts as a win. He still looks flustered as hell, though, looking anywhere that isn’t Aegon.
“You wouldn’t tell him?”
And ah, that was what truly worried Luke. Aegon can’t say he wouldn’t worry about it if he was in his place, with a crush on Westeros’ most terrifying omega. Is he worried Aemond will cut his cock off if he finds out? Take both of his eyes for daring to think of Aemond in any light that’s not one precisely for Luke’s deepest nightmares? Who knows.
“No,” Aegon finally says. He smiles, trying to be comforting, but he knows he isn’t exactly succeeding. “I won’t tell him, mate. What kind of uncle would that make me?”
Luke laughs awkwardly. “I guess a bad one.”
“Yeah. Which I’ve been, I’ll admit, but I’m trying to be better, here.”
A questionable statement, Aegon knows. “When did it start?” he asks then.
Luke blinks, as if trying to remember. “Shortly before my presentation,” he confesses, “Aemond passed by to drop off something for my mother, and I found this— this overly sweet scent on one of the cushions of the living room. That same day, I started feeling funny, and… well…”
“Shit,” Aegon’s eyebrows raise. He’s not amused, anymore. “Fuck, are you sure it even was his scent?”
Luke nods, entirely serious. “No one else was home. Just my mother and Aemond, and she was sitting on a different armchair. Besides, Jace and Joff smell different.”
Aegon nods thoughtfully. “Sounds like the kind of shit Father says sometimes,” he murmurs, “About special mates and that crap. Never believed in that, but I guess you’re living proof, huh? His scent triggered your presentation?”
“I’m not sure that’s how it works. Mother said I might’ve just liked how he smelt and my… my instincts, or something, related said liking with…”
“With a rut. Don’t say more, it isn’t looking good for you,” Aegon snorts. “Are you planning on doing anything about this little crush?”
“What? No!” Luke shakes his head frantically. “He— he fucking hates me, for one, so no chance on that. And also… it could be a temporary thing, right?”
“I guess. Just a little infatuation. Happens all the time,” at least that’s what Aegon knew from what his friends said sometimes. When one is so close to going into heat or rut, everything in their body changes. Their mind too. They mistake things for other things, and they feel affection where it used to be only hatred. If Luke’s body was already sensitive, Aemond’s smell might’ve been just a funny coincidence. “So… you’re gonna wait it out?”
“Seems like I have no choice,” Luke huffs, pathetic, a too grown alpha looking like a kicked puppy. “I don’t know what to do. Every time he’s around, I want to… I want to sniff him. Hug him. I would do anything to touch his hair, Aegon. I think I might be mad.”
Aegon nods, way too invested on this. This is the most entertainment he has had in weeks.
By the time dinner is ready, Otto and Daeron have arrived, as well as Daemon and his daughters.
Now the kitchen table is a bit cramped, so Baela, Helaena and Jace eat at the island, and once Daeron comes downstairs from his shower he joins them.
This time, with Helaena gone, Luke sits by Aegon. They haven’t talked since their little conversation in Luke’s room, but Aegon can see the way he glances at him sometimes, as if he expects Aegon to suddenly get up and tell the whole family his secret.
At Aegon’s other side is Aemond, who looks positively more relaxed than he did at lunch. Aemond is so relaxed he is even participating a little in the conversation initiated by Rhaenyra about academic achievements, which most of the time is too much to ask of him. Their sister spends a painful amount of time asking Helaena about her studies, and doesn’t even bother to ask if Aegon is thinking about going back to uni, so Aemond and Daeron are the next targets.
“How long is your Bachelor’s, you said?”
“Five years,” Aemond says, “I’m in the fifth.”
“I see,” Rhaenyra smiles. “So, the final year! That’s exciting.”
“It is.”
“Planning on doing anything special once you finish?” she giggles, “I’m sorry, would you mind telling me what it is again?”
When Aemond responds, it’s with way more patience than usual. “Political science. And, yes, I’ve just accepted an offer for an apprenticeship in the Communications department of Redwyne Inc.”
“Great company,” Rhaenyra nods. “Um… what would you be doing, in that apprenticeship?”
“For the time being, I’ll just be observing the work process and shadowing the head of the department. If I’m lucky enough, I’ll be working there full time once I finish.”
“That’d mean to move to the Arbor,” Harwin guesses, “The company is located there, isn’t it?”
There isn’t really judgment in his voice, mostly just curiosity.
“Yes. I’ve thought about it, and I think it’s a great opportunity,” Aemond simply says.
Out of the corner of his eye, Aegon sees Alicent’s cup freeze in the air before it can reach her mouth. Something in Aemond’s prospects (or the whole thing, for all Aegon knows) were not expected. Hell, Aegon didn’t even know how his fucking Bachelor’s was called, let alone he had planned to move to the fucking Arbor out of all places.
But Alicent knows better than to make a scene at the dinner table, so she sighs and drinks her grimace away.
After dinner, the so-called adults gather around the living room. It’s mostly just Viserys talking to Otto and dragging Daemon along, and Rhaenyra and Harwin joining mostly out of compromise and not really desire. The rest fuck off Gods know where; Aegon only hears Helaena asking Jace and Baela if they wanted to see her new ant colony before he steps out of the kitchen himself.
In the corridor leading to the stairs, two voices are coming through the walls.
“An apprenticeship? At the Arbor? Aemond, what are you thinking?” Alicent’s frantic tone gets Aegon alert almost immediately, call it an old habit. Before he can fully enter the corridor and make himself visible, he stays purposely hidden behind the wall.
“Mother, I don’t see the problem with it,” Aemond sighs. “It’s a natural path to follow after my degree, isn’t it?”
“No, of course not.”
“Then what should I do after I finish?”
“Aemond…” his mother says, with the same tone she uses when Aegon is being difficult. “We’ve talked about this before.”
“About what?” a pause, and then Aemond hisses, “Not this again, mother!”
“Aemond, I am simply worried about what you might do without—”
“Without an alpha?” Aemond huffs a laugh. “I don’t know. But I don’t wanna know what I’d do with one, either. What is marriage so important?”
“Because it is,” now Alicent hisses, possibly the most upset Aegon has heard her talking to Aemond. “You are what you are, and respectable omegas bond with respectable alphas and continue their lives. What will you do without a spouse? Children? Do you pretend to be a lonely omega forever? That’s not sustainable, Aemond! Besides, our family is well known, we’ve got an image to stand by. We cannot have you running around with a silly degree. Please, tell me you understand that. Please.”
There’s silence. Aegon considers stepping in, only to placate the tension, before Aemond speaks again:
“Then why did you let me start the degree?”
“What?” Alicent asks softly.
“You let me… I asked and you… I told you what I wanted to do,” his brother sounds beyond betrayed. “I told you I wanted to do this degree, and work in the field of my choice, and hopefully move abroad, or be the head of the department of some company, work somewhere important, and you didn’t say anything. Why?”
Alicent huffs something close to a laugh. Aegon winces.
“I thought you would come to your senses eventually,” she whispers. “Obviously, you have not, if you think this is a good idea.”
“Mother…”
“I know plenty of people with young alpha sons and daughters,” Alicent sighs. “I might do you a favor and introduce you to some of them.”
“Mother!”
“It’s a lot of work, Aemond, but I’m willing to do it.”
“I don’t want it!”
“You say that now, but marriage and children are a blessing for all omegas.”
Fuck, Aegon thinks, turning on his heels to return to the kitchen.
The next day, whatever good mood Aemond had, disappeared and in its place is now the temper of the Seven Hells’ favorite demon.
At breakfast, Aemond gets into a screaming match with Jace about some dumb cereal they both wanted but couldn’t have due to the fact that only a few crumbs were left. Aemond storms out of the kitchen, before Aegon guesses he wraps his hands around Jace’s neck.
Later on, Aegon hears him arguing with Rhaena about who deserves to watch something on the big TV in the living room. Joffrey is his next victim— Aemond screams his ear off for letting the microwave’s door open. The afternoon passes and everyone, funnily, walks over eggshells around Aemond. The bravest has been Luke, daring to approach him at lunch to ask him if he wanted any salsa for his fajitas. Aemond almost growls, but takes the salsa anyway.
The whole family seems to sigh in relief the moment Aemond steps out of the house to exercise on the terrace.
Everyone is hanging out in the living room when Luke conveniently has another, very important call to make. Poor lad is too predictable. Aegon excuses himself with Helaena, who had been showing him some purses on her phone asking which one was prettier, and makes his way to the terrace.
The terrace is connected to a room in the house’s fourth floor that used to be a gym. There is equipment that no one really uses anymore, things that look uncomfortable and Aegon guesses their father got in the eighties. Shit, maybe even before that. Most of it is old enough that a simple routine would break it, so it’s just laying there, useless. There’s a pool table Viserys and Daemon use on occasion, though.
Aemond has laid a yoga mat outside, along with some small weights. Whatever routine he’s doing, he seems to know it by heart, with the way his movements are all controlled.
“What? No self-care now?” Aegon asks, once he’s standing right behind Luke. The distance between them and the glass doors is enough for Aemond to be oblivious to their presence, especially with the pale winter sun shining above him.
His nephew jumps, cheeks apple-red. “Shit! Aegon. What’s wrong with you?”
“This is a bit creepy, Luke,” Aegon chides him.
Luke rolls his eyes, accepting the fact Aegon isn’t leaving. “He can’t hear us,” he mutters, “He’s wearing earbuds.”
“That doesn’t make it better,” Aegon laughs. He glances at Aemond; now laying on the mat, doing some movements. Sit-ups? Or a weird variation, judging how far his legs are flexing.
“Do you know what’s wrong with him?” Luke winces, “What’s got him all annoyed?”
“No,” sincerely, Aegon snorts. It could be anything with Aemond.
“It’s just…” his nephew sighs in frustration. “I wish I could… I don’t even know. Make it better? Somehow?”
“That’s noble of you.”
Luke shrugs.
“Maybe I should let him punch me. That’d make him happy.”
But Aegon doesn’t laugh this time. He stares at Luke for a very, very long moment. He replays the conversation between Aemond and Alicent last night, and the way his baby brother conveniently woke up in a mood today.
“What?” Luke frowns.
The corners of Aegon’s mouth curl up.
He nods at Aemond. “I think I’ve got an idea of what’s wrong with him. Do you wanna make it better?”
“… you’re not gonna let him punch me, are you?”
“No, you dumbass,” Aegon palms his shoulder, grinning widely. He claps his hands, preparing the big announcement; “What Aemond needs is to settle down.”
“Settle… down?”
“C’mon, Luke, use that Driftmark University vocabulary,” Aegon is almost bouncing with excitement. “Settle down. What do omegas do? They get married. Or pupped. Or both!”
Realization falls on Luke like a bucket of cold water. “Settle down,” he echoes.
“Yup. Something you’ve been thinking of?” no, Aegon guesses by Luke’s grimace.
“Well… yeah. I mean, I’ve thought about having a mate and a pup,” Luke stumbles over his words, then pauses to consider the next, “But not… not deeply. Not before my presentation, that’s for sure.”
“I see,” Aegon nods, completely serious. “Well, it seems now that you’ve got the greatest opportunity in the eyes of an alpha, and with the omega who triggered your first rut no less!”
Luke pointedly ignores him. “Does Aemond want to settle down?”
“Ah, close enough. Mother wants that,” Aegon corrects him. “But who cares what he wants? She’s got high expectations of him, you know, being the only omega out of all of us… betas aren’t really that fertile, so she wants him to settle down as soon as possible and give her some pretty cute pups to look after. Has been bugging him about it, actually.”
Luke nods, processing all the information. “And what does Aemond think?”
Aegon shrugs. “He wants a career. But, I mean, he’s not gonna disappoint mother like that. And what better candidate for him than you?”
Luke grimaces, “Anyone else, he’d say.”
Possibly, Aegon thinks. But who’s willing to put up with him?
“Don’t talk so lowly of yourself,” he nudges Luke. “You’re alright. You just have to get rid of that fear of actually talking to him.”
“I know! I’m… I’m trying,” Luke insists. “Tomorrow’s Sevenmas’ Eve. I could… talk to him. Everyone’s going to try and be civil, right? For Sevenmas’ sake?”
“Oh, absolutely. You absolutely should,” Aegon nods, with the same level of unaware condescendment that Helaena uses. “Build a whole conversation with him and you’ve got him.”
“But what if…” Luke trails off, running a hand through his mess of hair. “Ugh, this isn’t going to work.”
Aegon cannot really argue with that. Nothing is going to work as long as Aemond is still like this— a living ball of burning rage. Any other time, Aegon would’ve recommended for Luke to get Aemond drunk (or get drunk with him) to release some of that tension. Even now the idea seems hilarious, but Aegon knows that wouldn’t work either. Aemond would never accept a drink from Luke.
“Tomorrow, after dinner,” he tells Luke once he’s made up his mind, “You’ll go and talk to him.”
“Hmm?” Luke stares, silently asking him to elaborate.
But Aegon only smiles, feeling a little giddy. “Have I told you you’re my favorite nephew, Luke?”
“You told Jace last night he was your favorite.”
“Yeah, he’s the cutest, but you’re my true favorite,” Aegon promised. “You want proof? Because I’m going to give you the very best Sevenmas present.”
As expected, Sevenmas’ Eve day is hectic.
From the very early morning, Alicent steps into the kitchen, and starts bossing around Helaena and Daeron for dinner preparations. Rhaenyra and her little demons join after a more considerable hour, and Aegon is surprised to see his older sister joking around with Alicent, giggling like high school girls and taking the ingredients from each others’ hands. For a moment, he wonders if this is what they looked like when they were young, before it all went to shit.
Everyone has a task at hand. Even Otto, who sits at the kitchen island peeling potatoes with Joffrey and Daeron. In the dining room, Harwin and Luke follow Alicent’s specific instructions on placing the table and chairs in a way that should accommodate everyone, while Daemon does a last-minute run to the closest store for ingredients so Rhaena and Baela can make some recipe they saw somewhere online for dessert. The only one Aegon hasn’t seen is Viserys, but he feels too sick to come down, or so Alicent said.
Way into the afternoon, Aegon is sitting on the small kitchen table, eating some green grapes Helaena got into a tiny bowl for him and Daeron to snack on.
Aemond is all the way across the kitchen, helping Alicent pull a huge tray with an even bigger pork leg into the oven. His brother looks better now— calm, at the very least. He hasn’t screamed at anyone yet. Aegon plays with the little white pill in his pocket, tossing it around as he sees Aemond sip from a red cup and then placing it on the table.
“How’s school going?” Aegon asks Daeron, just for a distraction.
“Great,” his baby brother grins with all his teeth. “First semester was so easy. There was only one class that gave me a final score of 76, which I think it’s pretty low—”
“Pretty low?” Aemond cuts him off. He walks over, casting Daeron a heavy stare. “Which class is it?”
“Introduction to economics…”
Aemond shakes his head. “It’s an economics bachelor, Daeron. You cannot get scores so low on the introductory classes.”
He has brought his cup with him, Aegon notices.
“I know,” Daeron sighs, “I’m trying! The professor was a dick.”
“Oh, is that your excuse?”
Aegon just needs a moment. A second would be enough.
“It’s not an excuse,” Daeron almost whines.
The rest, Aegon tunes it off. Aemond places the cup on the table, right next to Aegon, so he can take his phone off and show Daeron some programs for students who need extra tutoring in Oldtown. While they’re talking prices and schedules, and Daeron begs for Aemond to drop it, Aegon flexes his arm in the disguise of a yawn and drops the little pill into the cup.
As expected, it dissolves instantly, mixing with the bubbles of Aemond’s soda.
“You better fix up those scores next semester, do you hear me?” Aemond scowls. “Do you know how expensive your tuition is? If you’re wasting your time at school—”
“I’m fine,” Daeron defends.
“You need to get your priorities in check,” Aemond ignores him. “I thought economics was your dream anyway? Act like it.”
Gods. Has he always been such a huge bitch? Aegon shares a look with a pained Daeron. Perhaps once Aemond gets an alpha cock to sit on and a pup to take care of, he’ll relax.
All things considered, Aegon is doing everyone a favor.
After a while, Aemond downs the contents of his cup, and not even once winces at the taste. It shouldn’t have changed, but it’s been a while since Aegon used this shit, and he wasn’t even sure what the effects were until this morning, when he called the guy back in Flea Bottom who got it for Aegon months back.
As Aegon’s guy promised, the effects would start kicking in after a few hours.
It’s not a heat-inducing thing. Heats are part of nature, Aegon knows that much; they’re a natural part of an omega’s life, as much as ruts are a natural part of an alpha’s life. There’s no such thing as artificial heat, at least not in modern medicine.
The fun little pill Aegon had brought in a bubblegum package is something that he discovered in his first (and only) year at uni. On betas, the effect is pretty predictable; they are alert and active, and so it was perfect for those nights he had to sacrifice sleep in order to get his projects done. On alphas is a different story; most alphas who take it start yawning in minutes, and get a nice night’s sleep— now, on omegas, it’s completely different.
On omegas, whenever this little pill was involved, that sort of sweetness that only comes out when they’re in heat breaks through them and stays out for a few hours. They get pliant and compliacient, not really a heat, but being as ripe and ready for the taking as if they were in one.
In the middle of dinner, when everything is decorated with pretty candles and fake flowers, Aegon notices how Aemond’s blinks become slower. He starts grabbing his new cup, filled with wine, more often. And when he asks Harwin to pour him a third time, he notices the older alpha hesitating a bit. He seems about to ask Aemond ‘aren’t you going too fast?’ before Daemon asks for a refill too, and Harwin’s focus isn’t on Aemond anymore.
It’s winter, but Aemond’s cheeks start tinting a pale pink as he takes one of the cocktails Rhaena made. Strong taste, by the way his face wrinkles, but he keeps drinking.
And drinking. Aemond doesn’t even protest when Aegon offers him an improvised margarita. He keeps drinking. An effect from the pill Aegon actually forgot about; Aemond’s throat must be so dry right now, he would drink anything that would promise a quick release from that.
Hours pass and Aemond is twitchy, shifting on his chair and bumping his arm with Helaena’s.
That aside, dinner goes on uneventfully. They pray and talk about the Seven, which Aegon considers his mother’s favorite topic, and someone even starts telling stories about past Sevenmas gatherings. It’s cute, like a Sevenmas film.
After some pie, Daemon, Rhaena and Baela bid their farewells; they’ll leave to spend the rest of the night with Corlys and Rhaenys, and probably stay with them until New Year’s Eve. There’s an excessively long talk between Viserys and Daemon while Rhaena and Baela wait at the front door, coats on and everything.
The rest gather around the living room.
Alicent and Rhaenyra are whispering to each other, arms interlocked and unfinished drinks in their hands. Do you remember when… and I can’t believe we did… start flooding the air. Otto, Harwin and Viserys are still around, but their conversation isn’t really enough to draw Rhaenyra and Alicent from their own world. The younger side of the room isn’t any better; there’s a card game that Helaena loves, and so her kindness has forced everyone to play with her, Joffrey and Jace and Daeron and Luke moving chairs and the sofa to sit around her.
Aemond— Aemond isn’t nowhere to be seen. Aegon perks up, turning to face Helaena.
“Hey, where’s Aemond?”
“Went outside for some fresh air,” she shrugs, focusing on shuffling the cards. She gives Jace half of them so he can do the same. “Poor thing, I think he’s gonna be sick.”
Aegon nods. He looks at Luke, pointedly.
Go, he wants to say. Fucking go, Luke, do I have to do everything?
Luke just stares drunkenly back at him. Yes, apparently Aegon has to do everything.
“Someone should check on him,” Aegon says. He pretends to move, to stand from the comfy sofa, but he groans and falls back on the cushions. “Not me, though. I think this wine’s getting to me.”
“One would think you would’ve developed a resistance to it by now,” Jace giggles, and his soft hair bounces as he looks up at Aegon. Fuck he’s pretty. Is he still seeing that guy up North? Aegon wishes he had paid more attention when Rhaenyra was babbling about her sons’ lives at dinner.
“I’ll go,” Luke says, springing to his feet. “I’ll go check on him.”
“Wait, what about the game?” Joffrey asks.
Luke shrugs. “You keep my cards.”
That satisfies his little brother.
And so Luke walks away, sending Aegon one last look above his shoulder before he disappears into the kitchen.
The air is a bit tight tonight.
Aemond thought it was the closeness with so many people that made him feel hot back at dinner, but he’s outside right now, almost shivering in the cold night and his skin still feels too warm.
The backyard is nice; mostly illuminated by small lights hanging from the roof, with a nice view into his mother’s plants and a nice, fancy set of garden chairs by the door. Aemond almost collapsed on one as soon as he was able to step out; his legs were tingling, weak, as if he needed help standing. Well, certainly all that wine didn’t help.
He shakes his head; he usually doesn’t drink as a fucking sailor, but his throat had felt too tight, and only the coolness of the wine was enough to calm that feeling. Swallowing down the food had been difficult too, now that he thinks of it. Is he getting sick? Being in the cold won’t help then. He probably should go back inside and ask his mother for some tea—
“Uncle?”
Aemond blinks. He turns, glancing over his shoulder at the figure at the door frame.
“Lucerys?” he tries.
Then, something hits Aemond full force: an enticing, strong smell that floods his nose too quickly for him to fully notice. Just a sniff is enough for Aemond to lose himself on it. It’s such a nice, comforting scent, too. When he focuses enough, he catches notes of some cinnamon, too. Cinnamon… Aemond loves cinnamon.
“Uncle,” the same voice calls him.
Aemond tries to focus on it, he really does— ignoring someone when they’re addressing you is unpolite, but with the nice smell around him it’s impossible. He sniffs more the air around him. The smell seems to come from the person standing above him, not really visible in such poor light but Gods, Aemond doesn’t mind as long as they stay right where they are.
“You smell nice.”
The person chuckles, “Do I?” It’s Luke.
“Yes,” Aemond breathes deeply. “So, so nice.”
When did Luke start smelling so good? Aemond couldn’t remember any particular smell from him. Not anything remarkable. Perhaps he had been so mad to recognize it? It wouldn’t be the first time Aemond’s temper got the best of him and turned him ignorant to the events happening around him. Has he been missing this sweet scent for days?
Luke takes a step forward, bringing a hand to brush some of Aemond’s hair behind his ear. His touch is warm, but feels cool on Aemond’s boiling skin, which makes Aemond sigh contentedly.
“I’ve been wanting to speak with you.”
“About what?” Aemond mumbles.
“About us,” Luke says after a moment. He sighs. “I’m so terribly sorry, qybor. I know I’ve hurt you in the past. I wish I could make it all better.”
One of his fingers brushes Aemond’s cheek. Runs lower, across his lips. Aemond draws in a sharp breath and regrets it the moment his mind clouds with Luke. Something has happened— his scent is different now, a bit sour. It’s not bad, but Aemond misses the sweetness it used to have. The comfort that came from it— what was it?
His body knows exactly what it was. Before he knows it, he whimpers, “Alpha?”
Above him, Luke freezes. “Fuck,” Aemond hears him whisper.
“Alpha, why are you upset?” he calls, feeling pathetic and powerless because he can’t even figure out why the nice alpha is upset. “Are you mad at me?”
“I— no, absolutely not, Aemond,” that makes him smile, even if the alpha’s scent is still a bit sour. “Fuck. Are you going into heat?”
“No,” Aemond shakes his head, “Not possible. Not for another five weeks.”
“If you say so,” Luke gulps. “You smell like you always do, at least.”
At that, Aemond sits straight. “Do you like my scent?”
“Yeah, I— I do.”
The compliment makes Aemond feel dizzy. His stomach flips, and every single part of his brain is screaming in happiness at the alpha’s approval.
“I like yours,” he confesses.
Luke chuckles, “Thank you.”
Aemond isn’t sure what happens now. Every part of his body aches, and some tiny voice in his head mentions how good the alpha is to him, and how big he looks under the dim light. Such a big, capable grip he must have, how easy it must be for him to take. And Aemond feels ready— he thinks he would like to feel those big hands all over his body.
“Anyway, as I was saying…” the alpha goes on, “I’m sorry about all that happened. I think that if we put some effort into it, we could… I don’t know. We could have something. Anything. I’d take anything as long as you don’t hate me anymore.”
At that, Aemond gasps, “Hate you?” How could he hate him? No, Aemond would never.
“Yeah. You… you hate me,” the alpha sounds sure of himself. “But that’s fine, you have your reasons. All I’m asking for is some time with you.”
Aemond whines, low and confused because he has no idea why the alpha thinks that, but— but he wants time? With Aemond? He wants to…
“Are you feeling okay, Aemond?” Luke asks then. His eyes are huge, and patient, and so beautiful. Such a good alpha, worrying about him.
There must be a way to show the alpha Aemond doesn’t hate him— Aemond doesn’t want him to have the wrong idea and leave, after all.
Aemond pushes himself up, standing on wobbly legs, but standing isn’t important when he can throw himself into the arms in front of him. The alpha curses, shocked, and rushes to hold Aemond up by the hips before he can stumble and make a fool of himself by falling on his ass.
“Careful now—”
Right then Aemond kisses him, swallowing whatever warning the alpha was about to say.
Feeling the solid body against his is even better than Aemond imagined. He can smell everything like this, drowning on the smell that comes from the alpha like waves, each stronger than the last. Aemond’s hands are clumsily trying to run across the thick arms. The muscle below his fingers makes him purr.
The haze around Aemond’s mind makes it so easy for him to focus solely on Luke’s lips; on the way they move against him, and the way he takes deep breaths the few seconds they spend apart.
This feels right. This is what an alpha should feel like, Aemond considers. Big and warm and just perfect, absolutely perfect; Aemond’s hands roam free around the broad shoulders, burying his nails on the skin exposed by Luke’s thick sweater. Undoubtedly, it would be better if Aemond could feel his raw skin, but he will take what he can for now.
“I should take you inside,” Luke sighs, once he’s able to hold Aemond away from his face for a moment. “You drank too much, I think.”
Aemond blinks, dazed and hot and too needy. The side remark about his alcohol consumption flies over his head. Inside… inside? To a room? Aemond wants a room. A bed, preferably, although he would gladly keep feeling the alpha up anywhere.
He nods, eagerly, “Yeah, yeah. Inside.”
Luke seems relieved Aemond isn’t fighting, which confuses Aemond deeply. Why would he even put up a fight?
“Can you walk?”
“I feel a bit dizzy,” Aemond confesses, only to keep Luke’s hands on his waist. “Help me?”
“Of course,” the alpha says softly.
His hands never leave Aemond as they walk back inside. The hallway is dark and the steps seem too big but Aemond does not complain, simply lets himself be led, stepping forward whenever Luke does and letting some more of his body weight fall on Luke. The alpha doesn’t complain about it— he seems fairly strong.
There are voices and laughs coming from the first floor. “Everyone’s a little drunk right now,” Luke whispers, “To be expected, right? On Sevenmas?”
Aemond nods. “It’s a celebration,” Aegon said something like that earlier, he thinks. His older brother seemed very excited about tonight. Aemond had scoffed at such enthusiasm, but right now he might understand.
Going up the stairs is a success. Aemond points to his room, still the very same one he had back when he lived here, and Luke helps him get the rest of the way.
Aemond opens the door and stumbles inside. When he spins around to close it he almost falls over, but Luke holds him again, gently guiding Aemond to stand straight. That way it is easier to push the door closed. Aemond feels a little giddy; with the close space, he’s able to mingle with Luke’s smell. Still so sweet, so easy to recognize. He wants to drown in it.
There’s no reason to drag this out, so Aemond grabs the sides of his jacket and shrugs it off, handing it to Luke with what definitely is a crooked smile. “Put it away, in the closet,” he asks, voice honeyed.
While Luke is looking away, Aemond takes the hem of his long-sleeved shirt and pulls it over his head. He shudders, throwing it somewhere across the room, and makes quick work to kick off his boots and undo his pants. He’s almost totally undressed —the boots came off, as well as his pants, and he is just pushing his briefs down his hips— by the time Luke turns back to him.
“Qybor,” he says. Startled, eyes wide. “What are you doing?”
Aemond plops down on the bed. The burning between his legs almost made him spread them, but Luke’s voice makes him sink a bit within himself.
“I thought…” he can’t even explain himself. Luke’s scent— it was too clear to ignore. And he had kissed Aemond back. He was the one who suggested going inside! “You wanted to come inside.”
“Yes, so you could sleep,” Luke says so fast Aemond almost didn’t get the last two words. He’s stiff, staring strictly at Aemond’s face. “Sleep off the drinks? No? Aemond, what did you think was going to happen?”
The sour feeling of rejection is not something Aemond has experienced before, which makes its entrance a million times worse. There’s an emptiness in his chest that keeps getting bigger with every second that passes. How could it be that Aemond read everything wrong? Hadn’t the alpha said he wanted to spend more time together? The alpha had been too nice and caring and touchy, how could it be a misunderstanding? What was there that Aemond didn’t see?
“I thought you wanted me,” Aemond says at last. Humiliation borns even deeper than desire, and he finds his eye watery.
Luke recoils. “I do. I said so, didn’t I?” something like realization crosses through his face, and soon he looks guilty. “I’m sorry. I do, I do want you. It’s just that… this is a bit rushed.”
“How so? We’ve known each other since forever.”
“And yet this morning you said my presence gives you headaches,” Luke points out, “When I asked if you wanted milk for your coffee.”
Aemond whines. He doesn’t even remember that. It’s not valid.
“I changed my mind,” he promises, “I did!”
He thinks of springing and kissing him again, but Aemond doesn’t really trust his legs right now, and he doesn’t want to end up in the hospital because he fell over and bursted his skull open.
There’s so much he can do before Luke turns around and gets out of the room, which prompts him to say, “Please.” It’s a soft, delicate plea. Sometimes during his heats his voice would become high-pitched, begging and crying for release, but it makes sense in that context. Otherwise that tone never comes out.
Of course, Aemond knows what said tone is meant to do during his heats; it’s enticing. A call for nearby alphas to come to his aid, like the lingering smell and slick pouring from his hole are too.
It works perfectly on Luke. His eyes soften, something dark glistening on them, and the honey smell around him thickens.
“Please,” Aemond repeats. He isn’t sure of his movements, but doesn’t let his lack of expertise prevent him from slowly pushing his legs open.
Holding himself up with a hand on the bed, Aemond leans back and takes his other hand to his cunt. His little cocklet is already full and flushed, and his fingers run along the slit to collect the slick there. Aemond’s hand falters for a moment. He’s not used to this— he only touches himself during his heats.
“Look, I’m—” Aemond chokes, rubbing his wet fingers all over his pussy. The glistening folds are put on display as he wriggles his hips. “I’m wet.”
The admission comes with a long whine. He looks up at Luke again, taking in the alpha’s heavy breath.
“You are,” he murmurs.
Any sort of doubt in Luke’s face eases into an unreadable expression. His eyes start to wander, finally, beyond Aemond’s face. The alpha has made up his mind, and Aemond’s head clears for a moment so victory can wash over him— said victory feels even sweeter when Luke takes the few steps distancing him from the bed and places a big hand on Aemond’s knee.
“You’re wet,” the alpha moans. It’s like he can’t believe it.
“For you, alpha,” Aemond clarifies. He feels it’s important to, so his alpha can understand. “For you.”
It’s like something inside Luke snaps. The hand holding Aemond’s knee squeezes the flesh hard, and while he gasps, Luke takes the distraction to crawl up into the bed with him.
Aemond feels his back hitting the mattress and greedy lips finding his mouth, tasting him with an urgence that makes the previous kiss pale in comparison. Every breath and sigh is swallowed by the alpha; the sweetness he had displayed before, while helping Aemond walk up the steps, seems to have gone away.
It’s easy for Aemond to lose himself on the kiss. He tries to follow the rhythm as best as he can, but his mind isn’t too quick, and so most of the time he’s panting on Luke’s mouth and praying for the alpha to keep devouring him. Heat is not only building on the inside now; Luke is covering Aemond’s whole body on the bed, dedicating himself to explore the bare skin with his hands, rough groping that feels like loving, tender caresses in Aemond’s mind.
Aemond thinks about passing a leg around Luke so he has better access to his cunt, but the alpha pulls away before Aemond can begin any planning.
“No,” he whines.
Luke shushes him, pressing a wet, open-mouthed kiss on Aemond’s neck before sitting up. It burns against his skin.
“I have to take my clothes off, omega. How else am I going to take care of you?” his breathy voice makes Aemond a little dizzy. He shudders, just like he did outside with the cold wind.
“I know,” Aemond whispers, apologetic. “Sorry.”
Luke chuckles. He holds Aemond’s face with a hand, running his thumb over his cheek.
“Needy,” it sounds affectionate. “And impatient, aren’t you?”
Aemond is. He’s been tortured with the sweetest scent being out of his reach, and when he finally had a taste, it was ripped away from him. Even if it would be for a few seconds, Aemond is frustrated. It’s just as if Luke is taking his sweet time undressing. Aemond bites back a sob; why is he taking so long? Aemond is right here, open and wet.
“You can touch yourself in the meantime,” Luke offers. “Just like you did before— putting on a show for me, hmm?”
His voice is soft, but not really a suggestion, that sort of low tone in alphas rarely is. Aemond bites down on his lip, hips moving involuntarily to rub against the bed. He nods.
Losing all the confidence he had mustered, Aemond has no idea where to begin. His legs fall open easily, but under Luke’s attentive stare, Aemond is only left to circle his cocklet with two fingers. He teases the little bud for a moment while Luke gets rid of his sweater, and while he’s undoing the buttons of his shirt, Aemond uses both fingers in a V shape to spread further the softness of his cunt. Luke hums, as if in approval.
“Inside,” he speaks.
“Ah?” Aemond blinks.
“Fingers inside, omega.”
Aemond nods shakily. He drags a finger in, moaning at the pressure. The fit is snug.
Luke must notice, because then he says, “Another one.”
The second finger makes Aemond gasp. The stretch is invasive, but not entirely uncomfortable. He wriggles about, shoving both digits at a steady rhythm while Luke’s own fingers play with his belt. His eyes are set on Aemond, hungry and just as beautiful as before.
When Luke’s jeans slide off his hips and are on the way down his legs, Aemond has to stop. His mouth falls open at the sight of the cock before him.
“Oh, Gods,” he moans. Is all of that supposed to fit inside? Aemond looks between the thick length and his own sex, panicking a bit. He’s never taken something so big. His fingers didn’t reach that deep, and his ex boyfriend in school was a beta, so his cock was considerably medium sized. He fears this will break him beyond repair.
His cunt throbs in excitement. What a traitor.
“I want to touch you,” he says once Luke is back on the bed. He’s naked now, and so Aemond’s eye can shamelessly run across his chest, appreciating the dark hair covering the trail down his torso to his navel and below, all around his cock, and the expanse of muscle that flexes as he shifts closer, between Aemond’s legs.
“Touch all you want, omega,” every time the title leaves his lips, Aemond feels butterflies fluttering inside his stomach. Suddenly, Luke adds, “Pretty, pretty omega,” and Aemond’s legs go weak.
Pretty. The alpha thinks he’s pretty.
Aemond slides his fingers out of his cunt with a hum. He reaches over, sighing as the alpha places both hands on the bed, at each side of Aemond’s head.
This gives Aemond great access. His fingers caress and squeeze the firm shoulders, going down to his arms and then back to his chest. Luke’s skin is soft, unmarked; Aemond cannot help but wonder how he’ll look with several scratches on his perfect skin. Aemond’s marks, of course.
“Did you prepare yourself for me?” his alpha asks, denying Aemond of more touch as he leans back to a kneeling position.
“Yes,” he sighs. “Want your cock.”
The alpha lets out an unmistakable whimper. He pushes his hips downwards, settling his cock between the leaking folds.
Aemond licks his lips, “In my cunny, alpha. I want it.” He grinds down, relishing in the noises he gets from Luke.
Just when Aemond thinks he’ll finally get what he wants, Luke stills him with a hand on his waist.
“Wait. I want to know something,” he says, breathless and too animalistic for the man who’s refusing to bury himself in Aemond. “Who else has had you like this?”
Aemond’s foggy mind cannot comprehend the question. He’s too hot, suffocating on alpha pheromones and his own.
“What?”
The growl that comes out of the alpha startles Aemond for a moment. By pure omega instincts he whimpers, going limp and tilting his head back to expose his neck. Hopefully the alpha will stop being upset if Aemond behaves— he silently prays for it.
With a handful of hair, Luke yanks his head forward, forcing Aemond to meet his eyes.
“Who else has had you?” he repeats. “How many alphas have enjoyed this pretty hole of yours?”
Aemond wants to scream. He remembers his mother’s words, her advice against having too many lovers because respectful alphas liked omegas who protected their virtue. That was a quality for marriage, or so she always said; a proper omega isn’t an easy one.
“No,” Aemond rasps out. He shakes his head, mortified, “Not many… I— I’ve had just a boyfriend,” he whines. “I swear, I’m not used up.”
Luke’s face softens, as so does his grip on Aemond’s hair.
“I believe you,” he promises, “I’m just asking because…”
He caresses Aemond’s waist again, thinking for a moment.
“You’re drunk, qybor,” Luke concludes. “That’s the only reason why you’re letting me do this. I know your hatred for me wouldn’t make it possible any other way.”
Again with this whole hate thing? Aemond huffs, about to protest when Luke continues; “But, still, I won’t waste my chance…”
The cockhead nudges Aemond’s folds before actually pushing in, catching on his entrance. It’s mercilessly tight; Aemond can feel his cunt squeezing around the fat cock like a vice, pulsing with want. He lets out a long moan as Luke slowly fills him to the brim.
“I will make sure it’s the last time anyone can have you,” he finishes.
Aemond can’t even remember what he was saying. He moves his hips helplessly, trying to get some more of that friction against his sensitive spot, but Luke doesn’t move.
“Alpha,” he pleads. “Please, Gods—”
He’s too full. The cock is nestled deep inside him, making a home between Aemond’s guts, hitting places he didn’t even know existed before today. Is this what Aemond was missing, all those lonely heats? All the times his cunt was slicking, desperate to be filled? He regrets ever denying himself of this. What was he thinking when he considered alphas unnecessary?
This alpha was made for him, he thinks. There’s no other explanation. Not any alpha would’ve been enough; Luke, only Luke, only ever Luke.
“Aemond,” the alpha above him sighs, “My Aemond.”
“Move, please— oh!”
“I’ve wanted this for so long,” the alpha says, ignoring his distressed pleas. His cock remained buried to the hilt in Aemond, barely moving, teasing him endlessly. “I’ve wanted you for so long.”
The whole room is spinning. Any purchase Aemond had found on the bed is quickly discarded as Luke takes both of his legs and places them over his shoulders, leaving Aemond open and vulnerable for his eyes. Aemond thinks the room might actually be spinning when the thick cock slides off his pussy, incredibly easy given the slick covering it, and rams back in again.
His cry is muffled by Luke’s lips.
From then on, the alpha uses him; the plunge to his poor cunt is quick, with deep thrusts that hit all tender spots inside him and never let him recover much, all while Luke bites his lips and licks the spit from them. Aemond’s hands weakly push at him, and then push against the bed, trying to find some balance— trying to get away even for a moment.
Aemond chokes on his own saliva, oblivious to the moment his alpha has decided to move down to his neck, biting on the soft skin to quieten his own whining.
“Please, a moment,” now he’s begging for Luke to slow down. “Please, just— ah, I need—”
Aemond isn’t even able to hear himself over the slapping sounds of skin. At some point Luke groans and covers Aemond’s mouth with his hand, yet Aemond still screams when he starts fucking him faster. The moves are shallow, but quick enough for his cock to rub Aemond’s entrance in its way out, carrying pleasurable pressure to his little cocklet, jumping uselessly between their bodies.
“Please,” he sobs through Luke’s hand, attempting to shake it away, “I can’t—”
“You can, and you will,” Luke whispers in his ear. “This is what you were made for, to be fucked by your alpha. Do you want a knot, pretty omega? Do you want to be full?”
Aemond is already full. He’s so, so full, he doubts he will be able to sit down in days without thinking of Luke every time he tries to do so. He wants to say just that, but the hand is still pressing down on his mouth, so he just whimpers.
“I think you do want to be knotted,” Luke’s breathless laugh taunts him. “Don’t worry, I’ll knot you. I’ll knot you just fine, until I’m sure my seed takes and your belly is swollen with my pups.”
Aemond can only cry. Luke finally takes mercy on him, uncovering his mouth so a full-on sob can echo through the bedroom walls.
“Please—”
“What’s that? You want to be bred, pretty omega?”
Does he? He does, Aemond realizes. His chest tightens at the mere thought of seeing his belly get round to accommodate his alpha’s child, his scent sweetening with the tones of milk. Giving his alpha pups would make him so happy. Aemond wants to— he wants to be bred, he wants his alpha forever, he wants, he wants—
With a hoarse scream, Aemond comes, feeling his whole body shake. During the few seconds in which his mind is too clouded by his orgasm, he fails to notice the watery release sprouting from his abused cunt as he’s fucked thorugh it. Aemond’s whole body feels tender, and he’s never— he’s never done that. The last few drops are punched out of his cunt as Luke keeps thrusting.
“Alpha,” he moans, feeling every limb boneless. Now it’s easier for him to jerk back and forth with the endless plunging.
“Sensitive, I know,” Luke moans, “Just a moment. You’re so good, my omega, such a good omega. Just a bit more…”
Aemond feels the knot all at once; it stretches him to the point of discomfort, locking his cunt just right for it to milk the alpha’s cock. His walls constrict even without Aemond’s permission to squeeze every bit of seed out of it.
Once they’re locked with the knot snugly pressed inside Aemond, Luke stills above him. He’s sweating, cheeks very red and eyes very dark, reeking of satisfied alpha. Aemond had never noticed how good-looking he is. With trembling hands, he brushes Luke’s hair back so they can look at each other.
“Bite me,” he whispers, voice absolutely wrecked, but determined. “Bite me, please. Please, please, please.”
The second the alpha bites Aemond, he will be Aemond’s forever. He will be Aemond’s to keep.
“… have to thank Aegon,” Luke is saying something Aemond cannot understand again.
“Hmm?”
Instead of answering, Luke leans forward and buries his teeth on Aemond’s neck. This time, he doesn’t even scream.
Aemond Targaryen wakes up with the biggest headache he has ever felt in his life.
There are multiple unpleasant things going on right now, bothering him as soon as he’s awake. First of all, the fucking sun is leaking through the window and falling directly on his face. Second— did he leave the fucking window open? Why is it so cold in here? Third, he’s never drinking again. He feels as if he broke every bone in his body and someone tried to glue them back together.
With a groan, Aemond rolls onto his back, feeling the pain throbbing in his head shoot down his back, all the way to his hips. His legs are killing him. Did he fall down the stairs? If he was drunk last night, he might have.
First order of business; get a painkiller. And some food, to pass it with the pill. Then he’ll take a long, long bath in the nice tub in the third floor’s bathroom. After his headache is gone and he feels a bit like a human again, he might come downstairs and watch as his family opens all their presents. With any luck, the only present he’ll have to open are Helaena’s and his mother’s, before he can retreat to his room again.
Another reason why not to drink ever again; Aemond cannot remember a single thing he did last night. He remembers having dinner, and actively asking Harwin to pour him some more wine, but that’s about it. He groans as he opens his eye.
A quick glance down tells him he’s naked under the comforter. What? Did he suddenly come up with the idea while drunk? Aemond fights the pain and tries to sit up, which is a lot for him right now, so he settles for propping himself up on his elbow and pushing the covers away with his other hand.
“What the fuck?” Aemond blinks several times, trying to decipher if maybe he’s dreaming. Yes, dreaming would make more sense than this—
Dreaming would explain why his body is covered in sporadic red marks. There are some on his thighs, and more on his belly, specifically on his waist. There are some fine scratches around his nipples, and Aemond can’t really see it now, but judging by the way the skin of his neck is pulsing, there must be more marks there…
He tries to move his legs to stand up, but regrets it the moment sharp pain whips at his limbs. He curses and falls back on the bed, trying to push the comforter all the way off to have a better look.
Aemond’s heart is beating too fast. Weakly, he raises a leg, using his feet as leverage to catch a glimpse of some sort of… liquid has made a puddle underneath him. It’s awkward, and still a little wet, and Aemond wants to leave this bed right now.
How he even began to think drinking at Sevenmas dinner was a good idea is now beyond him, but self-flagellation is useless right now. It’s still pretty early, according to the little vintage clock hanging on the wall; barely seven in the morning. He’s got enough time to despise himself for his mistakes (and try to remember some of them) before his family starts waking up. If the Gods are on his side, he might even find the kitchen empty at this hour.
Aemond is bracing himself to sit up when he hears steps outside his room. They’re heavy, and the walls aren’t very thick, so he hears them all the way down the corridor until he hears them close. Pulling the comforter back over him, Aemond waits for whoever it is to leave.
They do not leave.
His doorknob turns slowly, yet by the time Aemond processes it, Lucerys is already poking his head inside the room.
“Hi, uncle,” the demon says.
Lucerys. Yes, because this morning can’t be terrible enough. Aemond stops himself from snapping only to prevent the whole household from waking up, but he does wrap the comforter tighter around himself, putting his best scandalized scowl on.
“What the fuck are you doing here? Leave!”
His snarl doesn’t move Luke— doesn’t even make him flinch like it used to do. Good days, when the idiot was too scared of Aemond to exist within his reach, and would hide behind Rhaenyra at family gatherings. Good days, when Aemond was able to make him flee with just a slightly mean comment and the promise to seek retribution for his eye.
With a sigh, Luke enters the room —Aemond’s room, a panicking voice inside his head says— carrying one of Alicent’s fancy crystal mugs. Crystal clear, so Aemond can see the tea in it.
“I brought you this,” Luke says, not meeting Aemond’s eye. Good.
“Why?”
“Figured you’d want it.”
“I don’t need your pity, asshole,” Aemond mutters. So Aemond made a fool of himself last night and possibly in Luke’s presence, and the idiot now thinks Aemond needs a dumb favor from him?
Instead of recoiling, Luke dares to step further into his room. Aemond’s eye goes wide and he pushes back, staring as his nephew softly places the mug on his bedside table. Nothing’s new; Rhaenyra was probably the one who felt pity for his drunkenness and sent Luke to deliver the tea.
Aemond rolls his eye. “Thanks for the generosity,” he grits out. “You can leave now.”
Luke chuckles. He steps back, looking expectantly at Aemond.
“Go on,” the alpha nods at the mug. “Drink.”
Aemond considers throwing the boiling hot liquid at him instead but he’s not in the mood to deal with an enraged Rhaenyra for burning her precious son, so he pushes himself up and takes the mug. The hot sensation feels nice on his cool fingers— and the gentle smell of lavender is delicious.
The first sip is heavenly. It’s tea well done, Aemond can give Luke that, especially since Aemond is pretty picky with the process. He’d never mention it out loud though, so he takes another sip, almost moaning in delight as the tea runs down his dry throat.
Luke doesn’t stop staring all throughout the drinking. The stupid alpha looks almost pleased, reeking of stickily sweet pheromones that make Aemond roll his eye again.
“How do you feel?”
“Leave, Lucerys.”
“I just want to know how you feel.”
Aemond’s teeth hurt as he grinds them. “Just fucking leave,” he spits, placing the now empty mug back on the table and further sinking on the bed. He throws his head on the pillow, sniffing it and scowling. Luke’s been standing there for so long that now Aemond’s bed is starting to smell like him, too. Ugh.
He closes his eye. If he pretends to sleep, perhaps Luke will leave on his own.
His dumb nephew clears his throat after a moment. “Listen, about last night…”
“You haven’t left?” Aemond snaps, whipping his head up to glare at Lucerys. “What do you even want, Lucerys?”
Lucerys’ shoulders go down with the mention of his full name. His eyes leave Aemond’s— they travel lower on his body, so where Aemond is harshly holding the comforter around his neck.
“I need to check it, you know,” he says. “The bite. I need to check if it’s healing well.”
A laugh bubbles out of Aemond. “You’re fucking crazy. What?”
Luke sighs. He glances around for a moment, looking for something… he grabs a tiny mirror from the dresser by the closet and brings it to Aemond, dropping it on the bed. Why does he think he can touch Aemond’s stuff?
“Look for yourself.”
Aemond huffs. He rolls his eye but takes the squared mirror, lifting it up to his face.
There’s an angry red mark with the shape of a sharp set of teeth on the expanse of milky, flushed skin of his neck. The bite is new; it’s not only very red, but the whole area around it is swollen. Freshly branded. Aemond presses a finger on it and after a tingle of pain, it’s like a million images —memories, Aemond calls them with horror— flash across his mind all at once. He sees Luke, and himself, and the smell of sweaty skin floods his nose.
Aemond wants to throw up.
“I see you don’t remember much of last night,” Luke tilts his head in curiosity. “That’s fine. There are bits I don’t remember myself.”
“What did you do?” Aemond accuses. Another image— he sees his own hands running all over Luke’s skin. He paraphrases, “What did we do?”
His nephew pauses. The corners of his lips curl up in a small smile before he says, “We did a lot, uncle. How much do you remember?”
Aemond throws the mirror to the other side of the bed, positively fuming. “Stop playing with me!”
Luke approaches the bed. Aemond lets him, only because he wants actual answers to his questions— he doesn’t expect it when Luke holds his face. Gently, at that, simply caressing his cheek with his thumb. It’s… oddly familiar, but Aemond can’t really say it’s displeasing. There’s something about his touch that turns out to be comforting, and the way it’s so easy for Aemond to lean into it, it’s like— it’s like he already knows that sort of contact.
The little haze doesn’t last long. Aemond shakes his head, shaking Luke’s hand away with it. “Answer me, asshole,” he snarls.
“I miss last night already,” Luke is getting bolder, the idiot, because he sits down on Aemond’s bed. “You were so good for me.”
That catches Aemond off guard. His cheeks burn and the air feels thicker, difficult to pass through his lungs.
“It’s a shame you don’t remember,” his nephew continues, “You were so warm.”
The pieces are settling together in Aemond’s mind. He’s shaking in pure rage, glaring into Luke’s skull with putrid hatred. He sees it all now, the marks over his skin and the stickiness between his legs… the fucking bite on his neck.
“You forced yourself on me.”
“No,” drawls Luke. He beams, all innocent. “You brought me here, uncle. To your room. You wouldn’t let me leave— doesn’t that mean you forced me into your bed?”
“Bastard!” Aemond cries, “I would never—”
He cuts himself off. His face twists in confusion because he would never do that, would he? Out of all the people on this planet, why would Aemond’s drunk self find Lucerys Strong to mate with? Why would his pathetic nephew, the one who cost Aemond his eye, worth it? The one who never faced any fucking consequences… it couldn’t be. Aemond would never.
“I didn’t— you forced me,” Aemond insists, although this time he doesn’t sound as confident.
“I didn’t. You were pretty eager, actually,” the confession comes out of Luke’s rosy lips with a giggle. “Spreading yourself for me… what a sight.”
No. Absolutely not. Aemond would never…
But, oh Gods, he did. He couldn’t deny the truth when he was slowly remembering the way he had clung to his nephew last night, the way he had begged Luke to stay. Aemond was wet, so wet and pliant, offering himself like some slut.
“You looked beautiful,” he hears Luke saying distantly, “How could I refuse?”
Aemond wants to laugh. Of course Luke wouldn’t. Aemond had been so ready for him— the alcohol made him messy, but agreedable, and Aemond knows Luke was a bit tipsy as well. How could he be able to deny the opportunity to get his dick wet when such a willing hole was right there? (Fuck, Aemond had spread himself, hadn’t he? Where did his drunken self even get all this confidence?) Of course no alpha in their right mind would’ve refused. Aemond feels a little silly even considering that possibility.
“You’re remembering,” the hope in Luke’s voice makes him scowl.
“I… I am,” Aemond begrudgingly admits. How could he be so careless? This was the reason he didn’t drink at school parties at all, he couldn’t control himself. A very obvious lightweight. He isn’t Aegon!
A lightweight and now a whore, a little voice supplies for him. The title burns in his throat, but it feels correct— after spreading his legs for his stupid nephew, there’s nothing else he could describe himself other than a whore. And a careless, very idiotic whore at that. No matter what lies Aemond told himself, his body and Luke himself are proof of the truth. He cannot hide— cannot deny it. There’s nothing for him to fight about.
“I’m remembering,” and wishing he could curl up and die.
But Luke smiles and as much as Aemond hates to admit, a part of him calms down.
“Please, rest some more,” Luke whispers. When he leans in it’s like a windstorm hitting Aemond, a honeyed scent lingering on his nose. Now he gets why his bed smells like Luke. “You must be so tired still. How are your legs?”
“They hurt,” Aemond answers before he can think of it. He bites down on his lip, forcing himself to be silent, to ignore the stupid alpha whose voice seems enough to push Aemond somewhere he doesn’t want to be.
He’s too distracted to notice Luke ducking to kiss his neck. Aemond keeps still, more out of shock than respect, feeling Luke’s soft mouth attached to the bloody mark. Before Aemond can push him off, his nephew licks some of the blood off with a contented sigh.
Aemond’s hands clench so hard they hurt. It’s more humiliation than anything at this point, at the way Luke’s kiss makes his heart flutter and his cheeks to warm up in a childish blush.
“I want to shower,” Aemond says.
“Do you need help to get to the bathroom?”
“No,” Aemond snaps.
For a moment, he considers telling Luke to go fuck himself again. He could yell, and kick, and make sure the alpha stayed away. But deep down he knows it wouldn’t work because, as much as it pains Aemond to admit, he wouldn’t like that result either.
Still. He needs time. He needs to think.
“I’m hungry.”
“Hungry?”
“Starving,” he corrects. He tries to soften his voice, looking for rare gentleness, “Really.”
Luke stares at him for a moment before he nods, “Yeah, yeah. Do you want— I could make you something.”
Aemond bites his tongue, nodding.
“Alright. Anything specific you’d like?”
He shakes his head then. Luke’s patience seems infinite, for he simply nods again.
Instead of enjoying a long bath in the nice tub on the third floor, Aemond’s legs can only go as far as the bathroom on the second floor, the one with the shower instead of a tub. He curses and feels tears making his eye tickle, but still steps on the shower and turns on all the hot water, determined to make the most out of this.
While showering, there’s more blood coming from the fresh bite. It’s not a lot, so Aemond is able to wash it away, but any contact with the wound feels devastating. Every single caress of it makes him think of last night, of the fangs breaking his skin— claiming him.
A bite. He didn’t even let his ex boyfriend nuzzle his neck, fearing he would only be tempting him, and yet Aemond let Lucerys bite him in one fucking night. He thinks of his mother, who had mentioned once or twice the importance of proper care after being mated, creams and soft oils that helped the skin, not to heal… no, such a thing would never heal, would never close. It will scar, another added to Aemond’s collection.
It has bonded with Luke. From now on, Aemond will be misfortunate enough to feel everything the little idiot feels too. A death sentence, more than an actual loving bond.
Afterwards, Aemond gets dressed with a bunch of clothes he picked more out of necessity of being covered and not actually to be warm. The turtle-neck sweater he chose is making the bite itch, but he endures.
By the time he gets back to his room, Luke has returned. He’s sitting at the bed, holding a plate with plain scrambled eggs and the same mug, filled with tea again. Aemond still dislikes the idea of the alpha’s scent clinging to his sheets, but he realizes almost bitterly that his fucking scent might be everywhere in his bedroom already.
“There weren’t many things to cook,” Luke explains, grimacing at the plate. “Unless you want last night’s leftovers? I can get some.”
“That will do,” Aemond just wants something to pass down his throat that isn’t his own saliva.
The whole thing is just awkward. Aemond refuses to make conversation while he stuffs his mouth with the eggs and tea, and Luke simply… sits there, doing nothing. Smelling great. It’s infatuating because Aemond hadn’t paid attention to that smell until their bond and now it’s everything he can smell; on himself, on the air in his room, on his sheets and even a bit on his clothes, for some fucking reason.
There’s a conversation pending that Aemond already hates but has to happen at some point. They can’t stay in Aemond’s room forever. If Aemond doesn’t come downstairs before noon he’s sure his mother will come to his room and demand answers and Aemond needs to be prepared.
“Now what?”
A minute, and then Luke echoes, “Now what?”
Aemond’s mouth twitches. “Yeah, now what,” his bitter tone softens a bit after he sips his tea. “We’re bonded. We can’t back up on that. Do you know anything about how bonding works?”
Instead of looking insulted, Luke nods. “I understand the mechanics of it,” of course, he only presented a few months ago. This is technically new for him. “I know that when two people bond, it’s a very intense connection.”
Aemond huffs a laugh he hopes it’s mean. “When two people bond, everything about them bonds as well,” he mumbles, placing the now empty plate on his bedside table. “Their scents, their perception, their instincts… it’s just a matter of time for their nature starts… mingling together too.”
When he looks up, he finds Luke staring at him— dark brown eyes glossy. Their shine only seems to intensify under the pale morning light.
“I see,” he doesn’t sound like Aemond expected him to sound. He expects Luke to be— disappointed? Regretful of their activities? “I… that’s fine, for me, I mean.”
Fine. Aemond laughs humorlessly. Is he that stupid? Doesn’t he know that now his life is tied to Aemond’s now? That the best case scenario is their families manage to arrange a wedding with such short notice before people around town start talking about an omega who’s been bitten but not wedded? “Yeah?”
Luke shrugs. “Last night, you asked me to bite you,” he recalls, making Aemond suffer again. “It felt… good. It felt right, didn’t it? You seemed to enjoy it.”
The humiliation will never end. Aemond downs the rest of his tea, placing the mug right by the plate, and nods very slowly.
“At times, I did think of it,” Luke adds. “Is it true what they say, that we can feel our designation talking to us sometimes?”
Aemond makes a face. “Not entirely. There’s no such thing as an inner omega but— sometimes, when the time is right, we might have an idea of what the most primitive part of us wants. It’s different.”
Luke is listening to him with a kind of rapt attention Aemond has never experienced before, not even that summer he volunteered to tutor children failing their English courses and bribed them with candy to pay attention to him. “You know a lot about this.”
“Thanks,” Aemond says stiffly. “It’s been years of practice.”
“You presented at, what, fifteen?”
“Sixteen, actually.”
“I don’t know a lot about it,” Luke says, and Aemond lets out a quiet duh before he continues, “Before my presentation, I really didn’t think it would be important for me to know about bonds and fucking ruts. That’s weird, isn’t it? But I wish I knew more about it.”
“Why?” Aemond doesn’t even try to hide his curiosity.
“If I knew more of it, maybe I could help you calm down,” Luke doesn’t even sound sure. He tears his eyes off Aemond, staring somewhere on the carpet. “I feel like I should help you calm down.”
Aemond groans this time.
“It’s the bond,” he explains, rubbing his neck just to do something with his hands. He pushes the fabric of the turtle-neck down and massages around the bite. “The bond will tug us toward each other. And when one of us is in pain, the bond will urge us to make it better. It’s the fucking bond.”
But Aemond hadn’t even noticed the way his heart was beating so fast, and the way his scent is thick like honey but extremely sour, sending distressed pheromones everywhere. It was probably so noticeable Luke’s nose got onto it before Aemond’s did.
“Well, I don’t mind,” Luke clarifies, shifting closer to Aemond. Tentatively, he places a hand on Aemond’s thigh, barely squeezing the flesh. “I want to help.”
The touch, again, feels so familiar it is almost painful. Aemond spends an unnecessary amount of time trying to keep himself from straddling Luke’s lap searching for more of it.
“I know I won’t be that helpful right now. I don’t know a lot, yeah,” Luke chuckles, “But I can learn. Right? While it feels good?”
The worst part is— the idiot is correct. It did feel right. It felt warm, and the bite fucking hurt, but their mating felt genuine. Like the kind of thing Aemond heard as a young omega, the promised alpha that will make you feel like the most prized possession ever.
“Fuck,” Aemond sighs, and places his own hand over Luke’s. Its warmth transfers immediately. “We’d have to get married.”
“Yeah?”
“Obviously, stupid,” Aemond spits, still holding Luke’s hand. “Do you know how shameful it’d be to be an unmarried, but marked omega?”
Again, he expects Luke to look nervous. Upset. Even a little guilty— nothing. He simply hums, like he’s already thinking of their wedding.
Aemond decided that if they were to get this over with, they were going to do it in the easiest way possible.
He gets rid of his turtle-neck, replacing it with a sweater with a wide neck that showcases the bite in its entirety. By the time he and Luke get their story straight, there are voices and some more annoying Sevenmas music coming from downstairs, and so Aemond knows this is it.
This is it.
The kitchen is warmer. Inside, Alicent’s soft voice rings as she chastises Aegon and Daeron for playing with their food, like they’re fucking children, and she’s turning on her heels to go back to the stovetop when she gets a look at Aemond. Her big, brown eyes are Aemond’s favorite thing about her — she’s always been able to communicate just with her eyes and now, as those eyes descend from his red face to his neck, to the bite, Aemond knows that Alicent Hightower is officially upset.
“Aemond,” she says, too suddenly, like she’s been punched in the stomach. Before anyone can see him, she grabs him by the sleeve and tugs him to the side of the pantry, ignoring Luke in the process. “What’s this?”
Her fingers come to touch the mark. Aemond pushes her hand away, gently.
“It’s a bite.”
“I know what it is,” Alicent hisses. She looks over their shoulder, “When did you get it? Did you go out last night to meet with someone?”
She says so with the tone that lets Aemond know he will be in trouble if he did in fact go out last night. Aemond sighs, but endures, forgetting the script he had created in his head to simply say, “I got it here.”
Alicent shakes her head. “I don’t understand—” then perhaps she does, because she looks back again, to where Luke stood no more than a minute ago, and she gasps, low and guttural. “Aemond, no—”
“Luke and I were talking last night,” Aemond whispers, grabbing her hand so she’s looking at him again. “I was a bit drunk, so was Luke. I took him upstairs and we… we mated.”
Understating his drunk state is less embarrassing than admitting that his drunken self had locked Luke up in his bedroom and stripped bare for him. Alicent makes a face, between shocked and anguished.
“Lucerys Strong,” she repeats, slowly, as if any of them knew any other person named Lucerys. “Rhaenyra’s son? Rhaenyra’s son, Aemond. Why would you do something like that?”
Aemond feels his eye aching with new tears. There’s an urge to sob and explain to his mother he did not want to, it just happened. He was drunk and touch-starved, and it had just happened. But it was avoidable, a mistake of such greatness Aemond has never done and that’s exactly what Alicent is thinking. Aemond can already see the disappointment in those big eyes.
“I don’t know,” Aemond ends up saying. “I just… I wanted to. He smelt nice.”
“He…” Alicent shakes her head, bewildered. “He cut off your eye! That’s what he did. I thought you despised him— you told me so just yesterday.”
He had. Aemond had seen Luke talking to Rhaena while they made dinner and he had scoffed, rolling his eye and leaning into his mother to complain in her ear about Luke’s mere existence.
“I guess I don’t dislike him anymore,” hate seems like such a big word now.
It’s not enough for Alicent.
“If you don’t dislike him anymore, you befriend him, Aemond! You don’t get drunk and… oh, for the Seven,” she pinches the bridge of her nose. “You don’t let him bite you. Gods, Gods. What are we even going to do?”
“I don’t know, mother.”
“Well, you must know something!”
Aemond winces. His lip trembles, and even if his mother is furious at him, her face softens. She can’t hug him as easily as he was able to when he was shorter than her, but she still tries, wrapping her arms around his shoulders and standing on her toes to kiss his cheek.
“Shhh. It’s alright,” she mutters, regretful of her harsh tone. “You must be sensitive because of the bite.”
Another disastrous consequence of it.
“I’m sorry, mother,” Aemond says, voice wet. Barely containing a sob. What is his mother thinking of him now? What other words could pop up in her mind that aren’t whore? Slut? Not a very respectable omega? Of course not. What kind of omega get themselves a bite before marriage?
Alicent nods, petting his hair awkwardly. “Have you talked to Luke about this? Sober?”
“Hmm.”
“What did he say?”
“He doesn’t regret it,” as much as I thought he would, Aemond doesn’t add.
Alicent’s eyebrows raise. “Is that all he said?”
“No, obviously he said more, he just— he said he doesn’t regret it and that if it comes to us having to be married…” Aemond breathes in, “It’d be fine for him.”
The shame. Covering for said shame. That’s what mostly worries his mother. Aemond knows it (and he understands), the Targaryen family is well known and respected in Westeros, going back all the way to when monarchy still existed. Aemond’s ancestors were Kings and Queens, and even though their power in modern government isn’t as influential as it once was, Viserys and Rhaenyra are still heavily involved in politics and people still hear from them. And seek them out— any scandal, as small as it may be, it’s an unnecessary one.
“Well, I trust Rhaenyra would’ve talked to him in case he said no,” Alicent muses. She glances up at Aemond. “We’re lucky that’s not necessary.”
Aemond nods. “I know,” he feels like an idiot. A disappointment, on top of it all.
Alicent pulls away, and takes Aemond’s arm to guide him back to the kitchen this time. Aemond goes easily— his mother had been at the top of his list of people to talk to, and it was fine, kind of. The rest will surely be the same.
The rest is not the same. Not at all.
“What’s wrong?” Viserys demands to know when he eventually steps into the kitchen.
The whole room is silent. Every part of Aemond is shaking on his chair, staring at the empty table. In the distance he can hear Luke talking to Rhaenyra, who had been just as confused when she saw Aemond step into the room with a fucking mark on his neck, which prompted Alicent to give a very short, very censured explanation that contained the words Aemond, Luke, drunk, mates and bite. It all had gone downhill from there.
“—I don’t remember a lot, just his smell—”
“His smell?”
“Yes, mother. He smelt really good.”
“Oh, Luke… did he say he would…” she asks something Aemond can’t catch. “…if you didn’t do it?”
“No,” Luke screams in a whisper, “I wanted to, mother.”
Rhaenyra doesn’t seem as convinced. From the other side of the table she’s staring at Aemond, a protective arm around her second son.
“Aemond and Luke fucked,” Aegon tells Viserys, taking a drag from the cigarette he wouldn’t have got away with smoking inside if it wasn’t because everyone is too focused on AemondandLuke.
Viserys huffs, shocked, and Alicent rushes to his side to help him get to a chair before he falls over. “What is this boy saying?”
Alicent whispers something in his ear. Viserys frowns, head whipping to Aemond’s direction. “What?” Alicent continues whispering, and Viserys finally nods. “Ah, I see. We should celebrate. Mating is a joyous occasion for two younglings.”
Helaena grimaces when Viserys makes it to the chair next to her. “Um, well, father…”
“This is unexpected,” Rhaenyra says. Around the table, everyone except Luke and Aemond nod— even Otto, although he has been glaring at everyone for a while. “We should discuss the implications of this, before any celebration is done.”
“Yes, of course,” as if Viserys would dare say anything different when it comes to Rhaenyra.
“What’s there to discuss, though?” Aegon scoffs. “They fucked. Very likely went all the way, so a bastard might be squirming in Aemond’s guts as we speak—”
“Aegon,” Alicent’s voice cuts like a knife and his brother sinks within himself. “Not now.”
“I agree,” Rhaenyra is getting up, eyes never leaving Alicent. “But I still wish to talk to you, Alicent. Father, could we use your study? Otto could join us.”
Viserys is in the middle of a coughing fit, but he manages to nod at her request.
Otto, Alicent, Rhaenyra and Harwin disappear upstairs —not Viserys, not when he’s barely able to get up from his chair with assistance, so Helaena offers herself to walk him to the porch and sit in the nice sun that’s welcoming the afternoon— and their breakfast is left mostly intact.
“Uh,” Daeron leans into Aemond with a small plate, a hashbrown on it. “Mum made this for you.”
“Thanks,” Aemond eats the whole thing in two bites. He’s not even hungry anymore, just deeply anxious.
Jacaerys, who had been sitting directly across from Aemond, has a deep frown. He spends minutes there, arms crossed and studying Aemond’s face, before he sighs and stands so he can clear the table.
When Daeron and Aegon have come back to eating in eerie silence, Luke slides on the empty chair Otto left beside Aemond, and discreetly (which is not discreet at all), wraps an arm around his middle, gently pulling Aemond closer so Luke can rest his head on Aemond’s shoulder.
“Are you okay?”
“No.”
“It’s fine,” Luke whispers, “It’s gonna—”
“Shut up,” Aemond sighs, but presses closer.
“Huh. The bite’s a bitch then, yeah?” Aegon raises an eyebrow. Aemond glares at him.
“None of your business,” he answers on autopilot.
Aemond breathes a little easier when Aegon finally leaves. Daeron shortly follows and then it’s just them and Luke’s brothers.
“You know,” Luke mumbles, “Corlys offered me an internship at Velaryon and Co.”
“Your mother was married to Laenor for two months. And before you were born,” Aemond scowls. “Why is Corlys offering you an internship?”
“He knows I’m doing a bachelor’s in chemistry,” Luke shrugs, smiling. “But as to why he chose me, I have no idea. I think he got a liking to me that summer Rhaena and I went traveling. He picked us up from the airport and went to dinner with us, and it was nice. I like him.”
“Why are you telling me this?”
“Just… making conversation, I guess,” Luke hides his grin on Aemond’s neck.
Eventually, Rhaenyra comes downstairs, but doesn’t make it to the kitchen. She stands on the door instead and signs for Luke to accompany her with a gesture of her finger.
“A moment, sweetheart,” Aemond hears her saying.
And Luke goes, but not without pressing a last kiss to Aemond’s temple and a promise to be back as soon as possible.
“Is it true?” Joffrey asks, tilting his head to the side, as soon as Luke is out of earshot. “Are you gonna have a baby?”
Aemond doesn’t blame him. Joffrey is only fifteen— the only thing he could’ve grasped from that entire exchange was the fact that there might be chances a pup will grow in Aemond’s body.
“… it’s possible,” he settles on. “We don’t know yet.”
“Don’t lie to him,” Jacaerys suddenly snarls. “It’s possible? Did any of you drive all the way to the store for rubbers?”
Aemond snaps from the nervous haze to whip his head up at his oldest nephew.
“What did you just say?”
“Don’t play dumb with me, uncle,” Jace hisses. He leaves his task at hand —piling the dirty dishes— to turn fully to Aemond. “How long do you think they’re going to believe that?”
“Believe what?”
Jace scoffs, like Aemond is the most cynical person to ever exist. “Your little drunk story? Luke just presented,” he points out, acid clinging to his voice.
By the time Aemond gets up, Jacaerys is already standing in front of him— shorter, but still glaring up at Aemond, unfazed as ever. Jacaerys has always been the bravest among the three Strong boys, despite having two alpha brothers.
“Speak clearly,” he spits, and the other omega nearly growls.
“You are taking advantage of my brother,” it’s obvious Jacaerys wants to scream, but keeps his voice inside-appropriate-level. His finger digs on Aemond’s chest as he points at him, accusatorily, “You made him bite you, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t make him do anything!” Aemond defends, but his voice falters a little.
“He just presented,” Jacaerys repeats. “He has no idea what to do with himself yet. You— you could’ve sent him away, but you didn’t. What did you want from him, then? Huh? Are you only doing this to make him miserable?”
Everything, Aemond remembers. He wanted everything from Luke. Sweaty, hot-blooded and all Aemond’s, and the omega wanted it to stay that way.
“You know nothing,” Aemond hisses on his face. “I wouldn’t even do that—”
“Uhh…” Joffrey stands slowly, looking between Jace and Aemond. “I’m gonna go.”
“No?” Jace pouts, condescending. “Weren’t you bitching about Luke all the time? Do you think you were subtle? You were not. I bet you are only doing this to have him eating from your hand.”
“That’s a hell of a plan,” Aemond mocks.
Jace shrugs. “Well, if you’re a slut might as well be a good planner.”
A slut. The mere word makes Aemond’s skin crawl.
“Do not fucking call me—”
“A slut? What else should I call you?”
Aemond is impulsive, but Jace is even worse. Before Aemond can move, Jace is backhanding him across the face with all the strength his height allows him to— which isn’t much, but it makes Aemond stumble before he’s stepping in, placing both hands on Jace’s chest and pushing as hard as he can. His heart is beating so fast it’s all Aemond hears, just over Jace’s hushed insults.
Jace stumbles back, but steadies himself with the table before lunging at Aemond again.
There’s a slight burn on Aemond’s cheek that gets worse when Jace gets close enough to properly slap him. Driven by adrenaline and not much else, Aemond does the first thing his body reacts with, which is grabbing a handful of brown hair and slamming his nephew onto the nearest wall.
“Fuck you!” Aemond growls, trying to catch Jace’s hands as the other omega tries to get a handful of his hair as well.
“Let go of me, slut!” Jace shouts, possibly knowing that’s what got more under Aemond’s skin.
Fighting is embarrassing, Aemond thinks briefly, feeling Jace’s hands grabbing his sweater and tackling him to the ground, where he lands on his ass with a pained groan before his nephew is throwing himself over Aemond, scratching every part of skin he can reach.
Like this, Aemond is unable to push him off, but he does throw random punches. Most of them get to the air, but some do land on sporadic spots on Jace, and Aemond grins when he whimpers from the pain. Aemond shoves his entire fist on his stomach and finally gets him off, kicking Jace off while the other tries to recover from being hit on the gut.
“Oh, Gods,” Aemond hears someone gasp. Helaena, maybe. Aemond straddles Jace’s chest, pumped at the fact he can now know where his punches will go. “Aegon, do something!”
“What?” Aegon’s voice joins them. Aemond’s fist meets Jace’s eye at the same time Jace yanks Aemond by the hair. “Omega fight? Holy shit. When are they gonna take their clothes off?”
Helaena sighs. “You’re disgusting. I’m getting Mother.”
Jace pulls Aemond’s face down just enough to headbutt him— and the imbecile does so with so much force all Aemond sees if white for a second.
“Ah!”
As Aemond falls to the ground, he hits Jace right on the mouth. His fingers are all red afterwards but Aemond can’t think, can’t do anything else than follow the putrid smell of Jace’s disgust. Not even the fact that the kitchen is filling up with voices again gets his attention, until Jace is pulled away from him.
No— Aemond is the one being pulled.
Both are. Harwin is holding Jace back, arms wrapping tightly around his son as he chants, “Easy, pup. Easy,” but Jace thrashes around, too ready to punch Harwin too if he has the chance, so his father hoists him in the air, away from Aemond.
Aemond is being held by Luke, he realizes then. Not in the air, but on the ground, preventing Aemond from getting up and chasing Jace.
“That’s enough, Jace,” Rhaenyra tells her eldest, not as harshly as Aemond expected but definitely firm.
Jace glances at her, and nods. The moment his father lets go of him, Jace takes a hand to his mouth, collecting the blood there.
“Fucker!” he curses at Aemond, “You busted my lip!”
“Should’ve busted your fucking head,” Aemond spits.
“Aemond!” Alicent scolds from somewhere.
So it turns out it’s not all Aemond busted. Jace’s eye is getting darker with a bruise, and the cut on his lip is deep enough to keep drawing blood, so Rhaenyra tells Harwin to get Jace out of the kitchen so they can clean his wounds.
Aemond scoffs, but he isn’t any better— Jace’s dumb fingernails were able to break the skin of his jaw, leaving thin, bloody lines he feels all across it, and his cheek hurts like a bitch.
“You should get cleaned, too,” above him, Luke says, stupid face wrinkled in even stupider concern.
At the end of the day, it’s still Sevenmas.
Sitting by the fire in the living room, Helaena starts handing out presents. Nicely wrapped, with shiny bows and cute little cards with everyone’s names.
Aemond receives his —three tomes of history of Old Valyria, collectibles, with their own little case that resembles a little wooden chest— first, so he can get the fuck out of the happy family gathering before everyone starts giving out hugs. Before leaving, he does hug Helaena in gratitude, and his sister pets his hair and kisses his cheek, almost as if she truly knows what’s going on in his mind.
Rhaenyra didn’t bring specific gifts, but Harwin is carrying this large, rather expensive-looking basket with little trinkets like scented candles. Those get Aemond’s attention because before he scams, he can see Luke turning to his direction, an orange-scented candle in his hand. He seems to be saying something, but Aemond is already walking away.
He plans to escape outside, to the garden Alicent keeps looking gorgeous at the side of the property and be alone, but the solitude doesn’t last long. Aegon didn’t follow —Aemond would’ve noticed— and yet he’s there, nose red with the cold and a glass of wine in hand, like he had predicted Aemond would come here.
“What?” Aegon asks, sipping his wine. He shivers. “Fuck, it’s cold out here, Aem.”
“Shouldn’t have gone out then.”
“Shut up,” his brother rolls his eyes. “I wanted to check in. You alright?”
Alright? Aemond feels as if everything had changed.
“Want a smoke?” Aegon tries then, fishing for a pack in his pocket.
Smoking is a nasty habit. And yet— “Yeah.”
Aegon gives him a cigarette and takes another for himself, lighting both with a familiar movement of his finger over the lighter. The first drag travels through Aemond’s body slowly, grounding him, and he lets out a long sigh with the smoke.
“That what you needed?”
“I’m stressed,” Aemond defends. He remembers many times he scolded Aegon for smoking.
Aegon nods. “I figured,” he snorts. “I heard Rhaenyra and Mother talking.”
“How?”
“Through the door, obviously.”
Aemond makes a disgusted sound. “What did they say?”
Aegon pauses to take a drag. The usual amusement-mockery on his face falters, as if he isn’t sure how to say what he means.
“Marriage,” he confirms. “Sometime next month. Press will cover it, very likely. And Otto will manage the whole thing so it doesn’t affect Rhaenyra’s campaign next year.”
What Aemond already expected. He still hates it.
“And?”
“And that,” Aegon shrugs. “Luke came in but Rhaenyra just asked him again what the fuck happened. He said the same thing he did in the kitchen, that you were both drunk, all that.”
Aemond nods. At least, he trusts Luke can follow the simple storyline they made up in Aemond’s bedroom.
“Rhaenyra wanted to ask you too but Mother said you’d feel like you were being interrogated by the police and shut down.”
At that, Aemond snorts.
“It felt like a good idea, last night,” he says. He isn’t sure this is the sort of thing he should be discussing (with Aegon of all people), but the morning is long gone and if Aemond keeps his mouth shut for another moment, he fears he’ll lose his mind and actually beat up someone now.
Aegon stares, curious. “Did it?”
“Yeah. Like… who knows, like we just fit,” Aemond mumbles, looking at the damp floor. Yesterday it rained for a while, but today’s a bit sunny despite the forecast announcing yet another fall of snow. “I never felt like I fit in with someone before.”
“And now? How does it feel now?”
“Strange,” Aemond groans, and Aegon laughs. “Don’t laugh, asshole!”
“You’re being judged by everyone in this house. If Daemon was still here, he’d be laughing his ass off,” his brother comments.
“Thanks for your help.”
“Ah, I just mean it in the sense that, who cares?” Aegon shrugs, moving his cigarette around. “What’s done is done. It felt good back then, perhaps it’ll feel good again.”
Aemond doubts he will touch Luke again while being sober, but the possibility doesn’t seem as outrageous as it did the day prior.
“I guess you’re right,” he admits after a pause.
Aegon cuts his drag short to announce, blowing smoke through his nose, “Of course I’m fucking right. I’m the eldest for a reason—”
“Shut up, shut up, shut up,” Aemond groans. He drops his cigarette to the ground, smashing it with his boot. “Let’s go back inside.”