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A grand celebration it was—yet another successful conquest in quelling the rebellious crowd still crying for The Pretender.
The hall seemed grand and majestic, conveying opulence and elegance. Elaborated gowns woven with intricate designs danced, brushing against silk breeches and leather sheath of swords that never saw battle. Laughter and giggles echoed, festered with greed and intoxication. Boastful tales and exaggerated ventures can be heard coming from the men, regaling feats no one cared to prove or deny. Joy and indulgence exuded from every corner of the hall.
As if none of this was born in the wake of bloodshed.
Jacaerys clenched his jaw, stilling his pretty blood red lips from curling in distaste. The slight pull of his cheeks whenever someone came over to engage him in a conversation felt practiced—stiff and hollow. A pretty doll with pretty lips and an even prettier voice.
The King's fair songbird, they call him.
Other names had trailed after him before. Crude and unsavory. Yet His Majesty did not take kindly to those who slandered the omega. Those who had been found to do so never spoke another word again.
It was an unspoken thing—The King’s predilection for his eldest nephew. The fixation their ruler possessed as well as its consequences were known to all.
Everyone remembered yet none dared to even whisper of the peculiar death of their late king.
Aegon II had boisterously declared upon his throne that he would have his omega nephew wed and bedded by the morrow’s light.
However, upon the break of day, they found the elder Targaryen splattered on the cobblestone far beneath his open window. Prince Aemond had solemnly declared it a tragedy, a drunken mishap that had taken his dear brother’s caution.
The servants had been quiet and subdued as they cleaned what remained of Aegon. None mentioned the molten bruises on his person, the colours stark against the man’s pallid complexion. The mangled flesh and the tears of his skin, too clean and too precise for a fall, were left unspoken.
The Stranger’s grasp had yet to grow cold when the crown of the Conqueror found its new bearer.
The dark haired omega was the very first thing Aemond had set his eye on—kept by the king's side to keep him company. Listening to his voice was a privilege very selected few were privy to. They said his voice rang through the hall like the purest bell, the exact opposite of the haunting lilt in his tune and the resentment festering in his dark eyes.
~*~*~*~
Jacaerys held his breath and stilled the tremble of his hands as he heard the grand chamber’s door opened. In spite of knowing how fruitless it was, he had hoped to be left alone upon the banquet’s conclusion.
He was not, of course.
King Aemond’s heavy gaze always befell him, heated and eager, every time he had the chance to flaunt his most beloved prize to his court—his kingdoms and subjects.
With his heart set in stone, Jacaerys kept his back to the door. The boy insisted on letting the sound of crackling fire and hiss of amber to drown the heavy set of footsteps that came his way. He could recognize them anywhere—the familiar weight as they descended on the ground as well as the even pace they carry. It was not long before the scent of alpha that Jace had grown to be well-acquainted with engulfed him.
It was nothing out of the ordinary, his uncle’s incessant presence. Yet, Jacaerys remained caught off guard that his heart leaped still. The slight hitch of his beating heart acted as a testament that he was still living; that he still had the capacity to feel .
It was a remnant of the distant affection Jacaerys longed to bury.
To think that he had once held his uncle so close to his heart—that he had once yearned to be in the alpha’s arms. Jacaerys shook his head, trying to dispel the thoughts and the memory of days when he had looked upon the older man with tenderness and fondness.
Those sentiments were trampled the moment Aemond had made the attempt on Lucerys’ life.
His uncle stood behind him now, hovering and towering over him. Jacaerys felt his sharp nose nuzzling into his curls and his lips pressing gentle kisses. Large hands reached for the lacing on his back. Aemond had made a habit of helping him undress after eventful evenings— a mockery of a spouse’s devotion and act of servitude.
Every sliver of his skin that was bared met Aemond’s touch. The rough callouses on his fingers caressed the pale expanse of Jacaerys’ body. Lips followed soon after, trailing kisses and gentle nips. His shoulders, his collarbones, and his neck never failed to catch his uncle’s attention.
The heavy fabric slipped down the floor, leaving Jacaerys bare as Aemond preferred him to disregard undergarments.
Jacaerys closed his eyes as he felt the kisses grow fervent, scraping dry lips and light stubbles on the slope where his neck met his shoulder. He could not help the goosebumps rising along his arms when he felt a flick of tongue, hot against his cold skin. The gentle warmth of the fireplace did nothing to sooth him.
The sudden weight of a hand, large and heavy, wrapped loosely around his neck prompted him to swallow. His lips trembled slightly as he whispered, “Uncle…”
The hand tightened around his throat, apprising him of his error.
“Husband,” Jace breathed out, correcting himself.
It was yet another game Aemond loved to play. He reveled in the idea of having Jacaerys as his wife, devoted and enamored by his fearsome husband and alpha. That one word had the hand slacking slightly.
“Tonight has been quite…taxing,” Jacaerys told the man, hoping that he would read what it really was Jace was trying to convey. He did not wish to endure this tonight. Not after the exchange he had caught between his uncle and Lord Baratheon. The praises of his uncle’s supposed generosity in keeping his traitorous, filthy nephews rather than have them taste the executioner's blade had churned his stomach and boiled his blood.
How dare they speak of his baby brothers?
Aemond hummed, uncaring as he reverted his attention back to trailing kisses on the pristine skin. They fell along his bare shoulder now.
Jace clenched his jaw in an attempt to suppress his indignance, “The moon is high,” he tried again. His voice was steadily losing its persuasive cadence, “I seek to retire early, should my husband allow it.”
“Need I remind you of your duties, wife?”
Jacaerys gritted his teeth as his heart hammered. His hands clenched tight, willing his fist not to land on his uncle’s handsome face, “I merely request for a moment of rest this evening, Your Majesty. I am certain that our generous king could afford to grant my wish.”
Try as he might, he was still Jacaerys Targaryen; he was still his mother’s son. His defiant nature was impossible to subdue and the venom in his words were unmistakable as he spat them to Aemond’s face.
The older man’s face, still savoring the softness of the omega’s skin, twitched in irritation. Yet, he tried to feign indifference and merely chuckled, “Are you denying me?”
“I would not dare, alpha,” Jacaerys looked over his shoulder as he valiantly ignored the twitch he could feel against his behind in response to the word he’d just uttered. Doe eyes burned as the omega sneered at the man, “I am only wishing to have a taste of your magnanimity. The same one that you bestowed upon my brothers as you caged them like cattles!”
Jacaerys ripped himself away from Aemond, uncaring of his nudity.
Aemond could not be bothered to feel upset. Jacaerys’ words escaped his notice. He couldn’t even find it in himself to care about much else really.
Not when his Jacaerys stood right there before him, bare and beautiful.
It was a challenge to let his eye and mind stray elsewhere.
“Leave,” the boy hissed. That voice that Aemond loved so much was filled with contempt as those doe-like eyes grew glassy.
The king closed the distance between them yet again, forcing his eye to remain above the omega’s neck, “I have given you a taste of my kindness, nephew…”
He reached out, taking a lock of dark curl and wrapping it around his finger. Jacaerys had grown his hair out. It framed his scowling face, highlighting his allure.
“For a pretty price,” he continued, voice hoarse with desire.
The tears in Jacaerys’ eyes threatened to spill, “You make me sick.”
“No,” Aemond mused, his calloused fingers finding the omega’s cunt, “I make you wet.”
The boy could not help but gasp, fingers latching onto the king as he felt those calloused fingers against his sensitive parts. A sob escaped his lips when the alpha pressed two of his digits inside, forcing his flesh open to make way for the older man. Jacaerys wept both for the intrusion and for the wetness he could feel trailing along his walls, coating his uncle’s fingertips.
The alpha pulled away from the warm cunt to show Jacaerys the wetness clinging between his fingers—a tribute to his wanton ways.
Shame consumed Jacaerys. The way that his flesh always seemed to sing for the alpha never ceased to disgust him. His omega constitution was a curse rivaled only by the existence of his wretched uncles.
Not unlike the many times before, Jacaerys was unable to stop his body from submitting. His muscles failed him, leaving his knees weak and his legs quivering like a newborn foal.
Aemond’s eye lit up in exhilaration, always delighted to see his nephew helpless under his ministrations.
Jacaerys bit back a yelp when his uncle pushed him face down the silk bedding. He found himself seeking comfort in the fabric, nuzzling his cheek into its softness. His mind tried to vehemently deny that the traces of scents left by his uncle there soothed him, easing the vice grasping his lungs and heart.
A hand gripping his nape brought him out of his reverie.
“Deny me once more, omega.”
The words refused to leave his throat. The large hand, constricting and controlling, had turned his tongue heavy and his mind misty.
“Go on.”
Once more, silence followed Aemond’s demands.
However this time, Jacaerys replied by spreading his legs. His knees parted and his back arched—presenting gracefully for his alpha.
Aemond’s eye darkened at the display, “Beautiful.”
Jacaerys turned his face slightly, trying to hide away the flush that overtook his visage. The thought of pleasing the alpha still spoke to him, much to his chagrin. His fingers clawed into the sheets as he felt a trickle of wetness chased after Aemond’s voice.
Lips, thin and chapped, fell upon his nape—taking the place of the hand that now reverently ran down his flank. Aemond’s sharp nose buried itself in the omega’s hair, taking in its softness and the sweetness of its scent. Jacaerys whimpered, cunt clenching when he felt a tongue lapping at the spot behind his ear.
Aemond continued to nose at his nephew’s neck. His gum was aching, fighting to keep his fangs at bay so as to not sink themselves into the unmarked, vulnerable neck. It took formidable effort to pull himself away from the alluring scent gland. Should he be a lesser alpha, he would have had the omega marked and mated within the first light of his coronation.
Jacaerys sighed, unable to help the flutter of his eyes, as he felt those lips trailed down the line of his spine. They halted at times to leave gentle nips and teasing flicks of a tongue. The lower they traversed, the more challenging it was to control the slick seeping out of his cunt. The omega within him urged the boy to arch his back further and raise his cunt closer to the alpha.
When Aemond left a broad stroke of his tongue against the warm cunt, he could not help the triumphant smirk pulling at his lips at his nephew’s breathless moans. He took Jacaerys’ hips in his hands, marvelling at the slight flair he could discern that spoke of the proper figure belonging to the only omega fit to bear his children. The thought of Jacaerys carrying his heir compelled him to tighten his grip that would undoubtedly leave the imprint of his palms upon the supple skin.
His grip kept the omega in place as he began feasting on the wet cunt before him.
“Ah!” Jacaerys exclaimed at the sudden onslaught. Overwhelmed, he fruitlessly tried to crawl away from his uncle’s hunger. It was known to him that Aemond was a ravenous lover. The many times he had bedded Jacaerys had always left the omega sore and worn. No amount of abhorrence could deny the truth that Aemond was a passionate lover.
In spite of knowing this, Jacaerys could never accustom himself to the hunger which seemed to always consume the alpha during their couplings.
Jacaerys yelped once more, toes curling as Aemond ensured that not one bit of his sex was left untouched. His wicked tongue pulled away for a moment only to flick at the sensitive bud resting beneath his folds. He whined, pushing back against the alpha’s face. His body was overtaken by the feverish desire to accept something else, something larger, from the alpha.
“Easy, my love,” Aemond purred as he noticed the frantic edge of Jacaerys’ movements. There was not a thing in this wretched realm that appeased him more than the sight of his nephew, his lovely omega, so open and wanton for him. The moments where inhibition began to leave his Jacaerys were ones he very deeply coveted. The image of the omega aching for his cock was one that he swore to never part from.
Jacaerys heard the rustles of cloth behind him, the familiar sound of his uncle’s hasty undressing. For the briefest moment when Aemond’s hands were no longer on his person, Jacaerys felt shame encroaching upon his conscience. The indignity of having to spread his legs and present for the alpha he should see as deplorable lay heavy within his heart. Countless times he whispered to himself that this was for his brothers—their safety and subsistence.
In the deepest crevice of his mind, he began to wonder how much of it rang true.
He never had the valor to answer that question. Such thoughts only led him to drown in shame as his mind painted the picture of disappointment etched on his late parents’ faces
“Come back to me, lovely,” Jacaerys blinked his tears away. The warmth of another against his back now more apparent than ever. The heat always emanating from his uncle seemed to serve as a reminder of his affinity to that she-dragon of his.
The weight and heat of the alpha’s engorged length pressed upon his folds. Jacaerys bit his lip and suppressed the urge to cant his hips back. His eyes fluted shut as he felt Aemond began moving, dragging his manhood back and forth against his soaked cunt. Its blunt tip was then caught in his hole.
That was the only semblance of warning Jacaerys received before his uncle impaled him on his cock.
It mattered not how many times he had received Aemond’s cock; his breath would always get caught in his throat at the intrusion forcing its way into him. His uncle was rather well-endowed, after all. He whimpered as Aemond pushed in deeper, his slick easing the way almost effortlessly.
Listening to the little noises from his songbird, Aemond let a fraction of his control slip. His hips snapped sharply, burying the rest of his cock inside of that velvety warmth.
“Ah!” Jacaerys yelped, body jerking forward as he felt Aemond’s hips pressed flush against his behind. Brown eyes grew wet at the sensation—the shameful pleasure and the delightful stretch that almost had the omega in him purring in satisfaction.
His toes curl as Aemond began to move—shallow little thrusts that were more than enough to have Jacaerys craving for more. More of his uncle and more of his cock.
Aemond took hold of that tantalizing waist, so small that he could almost wrap both his hands entirely around it. The sight prompted a growl from within his chest. He used his grip to pull the omega down on his cock over and over. He relished the tight cunt suckling on his cock, the sweet noises of his nephew that seemed to grow in pitch, as well as the filthy and sloppy sounds from where they were both joined.
“Uncle,” Jacaerys’ sweet whine pulled him out of his trance. One of his hands took hold of those silky brown tresses and pulled.
“Address me properly,” he grunted, voice hoarse in lust and exertion. His thrusts took on a more demanding pace.
Jacaerys cried as he felt the cock inside of him reach even deeper, kissing the spots he swore were his biggest vice and blessing, “Husband!”
“Fuck,” the king grunted, letting that one single word wash over him, “My precious wife.”
The fingers in his hair tightened their grip; it only served to send another bout of arousal through the omega’s body. His cunt was drooling, soaking the cock rocking into him incessantly.
Jacaerys began sobbing now, slurring whilst he called for the older man, “Aemond…Aemond. Alpha, please!” What it was he wanted, Jace could not even tell himself. All he knew now were Aemond and the pleasure that set his very blood alight.
It was during moments like this that Aemond could fool himself. He would let his mind convince him that his yearning was reciprocated. His heart would claim that Jacaerys also harbored the love that Aemond himself had carried for his nephew all these years. Long gone were the days he could only satiate his needs by watching from afar. He held him now, close to his chest and even closer to his heart.
It was effortless to think for a moment that his Jacaerys was not just here to appease him into sparing his useless brother.
Into sparing Lucerys.
Bitterness began gnawing at him at the unwelcomed thought of his younger nephew—the wretched pest that thought of himself worthy to stand in between Aemond and his omega. Maiming his sight was an indiscretion that Aemond would never forgive Lucerys for. Yet, to him, the bastard alpha’s biggest sin was poisoning his Jacaerys. Over the years, the younger alpha had been manipulating his older brother into believing that he was worthy of Jace’s care. Of his undivided attention and love.
Even when he was no longer in their presence, Lucerys was still the bane of Aemond’s existence. One that he could not even afford to dispose of.
Aemond’s face twisted into a hateful scowl, “Luke.”
Jacaerys’ eyes widened at the name he had not heard in a long while.
“It is always fucking Lucerys in your head, isn’t it?” He growled. The grip he had in the omega’s hair tightened. His thrusts grew frantic and viscous, “I would wager that you are most eager to have him fucking you instead, are you not?”
Jealousy and the burning possessiveness within him flared at the mere thought, “Answer me!”
“No!” Jacaerys sobbed, his eyes hid behind his eyelids, trying to force the image of Lucerys out of his head whilst his uncle had his way with him. The thought of letting Luke have him in such a way was never a notion that he entertained.
There had been a time, a quiet night on Dragonstone, where Lucerys had spoken of such an arrangement. His younger brother had professed his intention to court the omega and to mate him when the time was right. In spite of the practice within their family, Jacaerys had been taken aback. He had looked upon Lucerys’ face, determined yet uncertain, as he gently turned the young alpha down.
He’d spoken of reasons and explanations for his rejection. None of which he could remember now because they all had been lies—carefully crafted words sweetly woven together to create an intricate monologue that sounded wise and reasonable. One so convincing that Jacaerys had almost fooled himself into believing they were true.
All of that blather had been uttered only to hide the reality that Jacaerys had not yet been able to discard his feelings for a certain blond, older alpha.
The same alpha who was now ravaging his body like it was the man’s birthright. Mayhaps it truly was. His God-given right.
“No,” Jacaerys uttered once more, mewling as the cock inside of him continued its relentless assault.
Aemond grunted before pulling himself out.
Jacaerys yelped before whining at the loss. His knees instinctively spread open more in hopes of enticing the alpha back into his wet pussy.
The alpha grinned, exhilarated by both the sound and the display his beautiful omega provided. Such an endearing little thing his nephew was. How could he ever think that Aemond had any intention of stopping?
Barely exerting any effort, Aemond flipped his nephew onto his back.
This was something the alpha could never get enough of—looking at the wrecked state of his Jacaerys. Seeing him fall apart was an addiction of Aemond’s. Just the thought of managing to wring out such reactions out of his commonly quick-tempered nephew was intoxicating.
Yet aside from that, Aemond also wanted Jacaerys to look at him too. He wanted to ensure that Jacaerys knew damn well who was fucking him and bringing him into the height of bliss and completion. He wanted to let the image of himself be burned into the eyes of Jacaerys’ mind.
“Please,” Jacaerys moaned, eyes glazed. Aemond felt his chest felt tight, eyeing at the flush painting his omega’s stunning features.
He pushed Jacaerys’ knees open and up, baring himself again for the older man. To his delight, Jacaerys kept his legs in place. They twitched ever so slightly, hips canting impatiently. His moist pussy fluttered, eager to have the alpha’s cock inside once more.
How he loved it when Jacaerys was completely consumed by his baser instincts.
Aemond had no room to pass judgement for he himself was in a perpetual state of hunger every time Jacaerys so much as graced him with a glance.
Those pillowy lips that would be the death of Aemond parted as the alpha guided his cock back inside. Jacaerys furrowed his eyebrows in pleasure, his bottom lip was caught between his teeth, when the alpha pushed all the way in.
With a racing heart and an all-consuming desire, Aemond growled and began pounding into the boy.
Jacaerys threw his head back as he screamed. His elegant neck, bare and unguarded, was put on display for Aemond’s hungry eye.
In an effort to restrain himself, Aemond resorted to claiming Jacaerys’ lips into a biting kiss. Their first kiss of the night.
The omega let his mouth fall slack, letting the alpha’s tongue intertwine with his own. He whimpered and moaned into Aemond’s mouth. The sweet sounds were swallowed by the man filled with greed.
Jacaerys found purchase on his uncle’s broad shoulders. His nails dug themselves into the flesh to keep himself close when Aemond’s thrusts grew rather animalistic, jostling his body erratically.
“Aemond,” he cried, trying to look down when he felt a large bulge nudging his hole whenever Aemond slammed inside.
The alpha’s knot.
He knew the alpha would force his knot inside. He always did. So Jacaerys merely spread his legs further apart, opening more of his cunt for the alpha, and braced himself.
“Jacaerys,” Aemond grunted, pushing his knot inside.
It was not fully inside when the omega wailed. The addicting stretch of a knot forcing itself into him sent him over the edge. He cried and sobbed as he gushed around the alpha’s cock, his walls convulsing around the hard appendage, “Alpha!”
The tightening walls suffocating his cock had Aemond growling. With a final snap of his hips, he lodged his knot into his omega as he reached his peak. He spilled his spend inside, pouring copious amounts of his seed into the omega, who now purred at the warmth filling his womb.
Jacarys had long given up on urging Aemond not to spill inside. It’s futile. Threats of possible bastards fell mute when one had such easy access to moon tea.
Truth be told, the alpha himself was never keen on Jacaerys consuming it.
He always seemed rather anxious to draw blood and separate heads from the bodies of the maesters who gave Jace moon tea when needed. The alpha within him did not appreciate them hindering him from breeding his omega.
It was fortunate that omegas were more resilient to the more dangerous effects of the moon tea, considering how often Jace was required to consume it. However, they were not fortunate enough to escape the lighter effects of the concoction. Aches and pains of his abdomen were some of the things that Jacaerys had grown accustomed to. During these moments, the alpha would stay by his side. Regardless of the hostility that Jacaerys often exuded whenever Aemond was nearby, the king still refused to leave his side.
It was yet another thing that Jacaerys resented. He detested that the comfort his uncle offered was, in actuality, comforting. He would pretend to be deep in slumber, on days where the pain was more than an inconvenience, and let the alpha hold him from behind—crooning in his ear and nuzzling into the omega’s neck as his large palm drew soothing circles over his midriff.
Aemond knew but he should not jeopardize the very few moments he was allowed to hold his omega so he remained silent. Basking in his Jacaerys’ scent and presence was a gift he was not willing to take for granted.
It was this very same thought that was presently running through his mind.
Aemond watched as Jacaerys began to succumb to slumber. They were still attached, joined by his knot in an intimate bond. The omega, now soft and pliant, lie encased within Aemond’s protective arms. The fire and the fight had long left him, leaving only a satiated and docile omega in its wake.
He watched as his nephew, driven by instincts, curled deeper into him. His breath was caught in his throat as he felt Jacaerys nuzzled sweetly into him. Absentmindedly, he eyed the bare and unmarked skin on that elegant neck, calling for his mark.
When the dust settled, when the last of rebelling houses were brought to their knees, and when the presence of Aemond brought nothing but ease to Jacaerys’ posture, he would make good on his vows.
Aemond would make Jacaerys his. He would bind them both in holy matrimony, in body, and in soul. He would kiss the blood upon his petal lips and the everlasting mark upon his neck. He would keep his songbird, by his side and within his arms.
He would watch as Jacaerys cared for their children and taught them their mother tongue.
Jacaerys would be his and should one seek to sow discord in regards to his words, then they would witness the next day break from the spike erected along the castle walls.