Chapter Text
Their little home was still hazy with smoke and heavy with the smell of their first burnt mixture of vine ash, barley shafts, twig-bark, peeled licorice wood, lime in pure water, and plants Helaena had lit to chase away the smell.
Aemond settled back again, his sister letting the girl take a comb through his hair as she applied layers of the coloring to chase away the silver-gold. Daeron ran around with his new carved toy as he waited for his turn.
Aegon had left at dawn. Grandsire left at dawn as well to head down to the village, leaving Daeron and Aemond with Helaena in their home. Helaena seemed to be very saddened and angry these days, not at them, but she would sleep in their room these nights and never let Aegon or Grandsire close.
“Look,” Daeron said, suddenly popping up with a spider in his hands. Aemond jumped in Helaena’s lap, leading to the coloring getting on his forehead.
“Daeron!” He scolded. He could never get used to those creatures, and he couldn’t believe that he used to hold them when he was younger. They were gross.
“Oh,” Helaena said. “Poor thing.”
“What's wrong with it?” Daeron said, looking worried for his new spider friend. Helaena bent nearer, careful not to smear the dark paste from her fingers onto the tiny creature.
“She's carrying eggs,” she said quietly. “See how full her belly is?”
“Really? But she's too small.” Daeron said with a frown.
“She must have matured early.”
Daeron leaned so close his nose nearly brushed the creature. “Will she have lots?”
“All spiders have a lot, but she's too small to sustain all of them, so I think only one will hatch.”
Daeron's brow furrowed. “Only one?”
Helaena nodded. “She will have more later in life. We should let her go now. She will lay soon.”
“Aw.” Daeron pouted, taking the spider back. He held her with both hands this time, cupping his palms together as though he carried a precious jewel instead of a tiny, eight-legged creature.
“But I just found her.”
“You must.” Said Helaena. Daeron did want to, but he turned around, pout still on his mouth, to return the spider. Aemond was grateful for that. Helaena kept her pets in jars, but Daeron liked to keep his out, and the last time he did that, Aemond had woken up with the thing in his hair, laying eggs.
“Gransires back!” They heard Daeron call. Helaena’s scent had soured as her eyes glazed and she looked around.
“No.” The girl whispered. Aemond hissed as she clutched his hair too tightly.
“Helaena,” Aemond whined. Her fingers loosened at once.
“I’m sorry,” she whispered. She did not look at him as she apologized. Instead, her eyes were fixed on the door.
“Helaena,” Daeron called, his feet coming to a halt. “Grandsire wants Aemond and me to go down to the village with Mr. Owen.”
Helaena looked defeated at those words. Aemond saw her eyes water as she took off her apron, wiping her hands on them and leaving. She had returned with bags.
Daeron was almost down the hill with Mr. Owen when Aemond caught up with them. The boy hopped happily, chatting with Mr. Owen, who had usually indulged the boy in conversation, but today he was strangely cold as he led them to his horse-drawn wagon.
“You and Aemond get in the back.” Mr. Owen said at last. Daeron had obeyed, letting himself be picked up and placed in the back with the empty fish baskets. Aemond quivered in disgust as his hand lay on the slimy planks. Daeron didn't seem to mind, wiping his face free of a fly.
During the trip, Aemond had realized that they were not headed toward the villages and city but to the other side of the mountain. Aemond had stayed silent about it, unsure his question would be truly answered. The whole trip was a silent affair until all of a sudden Daeron had said:
“A boat.”
Aemond looked out to see a boat in the distance. The wagon had come to a stop a few minutes after spotting the boat in a clearing filled with other wagons and people. Aemond had seen some of them before with Mr. Owen.
Mr. Owen had jumped from the wagon and approached an older man with black hair like a cat's. His clothes were fancy. Like the fabric Helaena wove that they could never wear. Mr. Owen had talked to the man, and he turned to them. Aemond had decided he was frightened of him. Not that he would show it. Grandsire had taught him better than that.
Mr. Owen had introduced Aemond and Daeron to the man whose name was Mr. Kass. Mr. Kass had asked about his hair. He seemed relieved when Aemond had told him it would fade soon and his hair would be back to normal. Daeron had asked where they were going, but nobody seemed to hear him, and Aemond did not have the heart to tell him.
Mr. Owen had taken them both onto the ship. Some of the men were on there, and Aemond pulled Daeron close to protect him from their eyes.
“You will stay here for now .” Mr.Owen said as he led the brothers into a small room. “Mr. Kass is a stern and busy man, and every other man on this ship. I want you two to be obedient and stay out of their way. Pay attention to what Mr. Kass says. If he tells you to crawl down below, you crawl down below and don't be afraid to tell him if someone is acting funny.”
“Yes, sir!” said Daeron. Aemond had only nodded.
“We will meet again someday.” Mr. Owen had said as he rose from his kneeling. Daeron looked startled at that.
“Mr. Owen?” He called as the man walked away.
“Wait.” Called Daeron. He had struggled as Aemond held him close. Mr. Owen had shut the door, and Aemond heard the sound of a latch not long after.
Aemond and Daeron were on that boat for many hours, without food to eat. Probably days. Aemond could not tell, with sleep being a constant partner to fight boredom and hunger. There was no light in the room.
On the seventh day, the darkness of the hold was pierced by a sudden, blinding ray of gold. The door opened, and the sudden influx of light felt like a physical blow to Aemonds eyes.
“Here,” said the man as he handed them a serving of food. It was bread and meat. Daeron and Aemond had practically inhaled it.
Aemond could see large red walls of a castle from their spot after the man had led them by the elbows to the soil. They had forced them to strip and washed them in the water. Aemond had been near tears, and it was obvious Daeron had been uncomfortable as well. The water did not smell as bad as the air did, and they gave them new clothes.
They had climbed into a cart again, only this time Mr. Kass had joined them. It was uncomfortable. There wasn't much space, and Mr. Kass had been smushed between them and produce.
“Where are we going?” Daeron had asked again.
Mr. Kass didn’t even look to them as he gave his reply. “To your new home.”
Daeron gave a cry. Aemond as well felt saddened. Mr. Kass didn’t like that and suddenly struck Daeron across the face. The boy looked startled and let out a gasp. Aemond wanted to bring him close.
Soon we made it to the gates, where they were interrogated by knights. The man leading the cart had said that Daeron and Aemond were his children and that they had found a nobleman and offered him a ride into the city in exchange for some copper. The man had looked hesitant but didn’t say anything after gold had been placed in his hands.
The cart had turned into streets with houses all packed together. There was one house bigger than the rest and had space. The building was two stories tall and long. It even had a front garden and looked like a rich man's manse. They came to a halt in front of it.
Mr. Kass had instructed Aemond to get out of the cart. Daeron had tried to get out with them as well, but the man had pushed him back into the cart.
“Stay here,” said the man. “You're going elsewhere.”
Daeron’s face crumpled, and so did Aemonds. They both had tears but knew better than to let them out.
“Where is he going?” Aemond asked.
Mr. Kass did not answer.
“Where?” Aemond said before he too had been struck.
“Stop asking questions.” The man said, dragging Aemond by his arms. Aemond panicked, trying to reach for Daeron. They were pulled apart, and Aemond was taken before the door.
There were men and women all over the place when Aemond was let in. Some of them were dressed fancy, but the omegas and female betas caught his eye, dressed in jewels and flowing silk and gauze. Aemond had caught some eyes, and they gave him pitying looks.
There was an older one in front of his eyes now. She was heavy-set and busty with a pouty mouth and silver-gold hair but no purple eyes.
“Seven, what beautiful eyes.” The woman said as she inspected Aemond. “He has nice skin, lovely hair as well. Hopefully those freckles will fade.”
“A dragonseed. He will be of good value. His mother was of great beauty as well. A disgraced noble lady.”
“I can tell. He’s of good stock,” she hummed. “What’s your name, boy?”
“Aemond.”
“Aemond.” The woman repeated.
They had led him through a hallway. Aemond had been looking around when he was startled by a push. The door had clicked shut, and Aemond panicked, banging and clawing at the door. The candles were lit, but that would not last.
“Welcome to your new home!” Aemond had heard the women yell.
Home was a mountain path covered in weeds. Home was the uneven wooden table where Daeron spilled crumbs. Home was Helaena’s jars lined along the windowsill and the smell of herbs burning in the evening. Aemond would forever remember that.
They had left him there ane Aemond was ashamed to say he had grown used to the dark room, to the straw sprinkled under his skin that smelt of urine and his shame. There was no window, no bed, not even meals or visitors. Aemond had learned to stop screaming, to stop clawing at the door until his nails broke, and to stop his crying early on, but that did not mean he didn’t damn them all. His grandsire, Oswin, Mr. Kass, the shipmaster, the madam, the men who didn’t help, but most of all the gods, the cruel, lying gods.
For the second time, the doors to his prison finally creaked open, and Aemond saw his life before, the true norm. The memories of their little home, Helaena selling her creations while Daeron sat near and Aemond fetched customers. Aemond would have gotten up and made a run for it, back to that life if he hadn’t felt so haggard and weak. His shaky breaths were all he could hear as his eyes rose, barely seeing anything, or blinking as the people before him stared at the pitiful vision he made. The clack of shoes met his ears as feet came into his vision.
“Here, have some water,” a voice above, connected to the feet in his vision, said.
Aemond’s eyes struggled to focus, but the figure before him came into view in pieces. The woman was wearing green. She looked kind. Aemond could place her features with his mother's, even though he hardly had any memory of her. All he knew were key features that a child's mind could process. Aemond did not reach for that water, nor did he let that cause him to trust that voice.
“You haven’t had anything to drink in five days. Have this.” She added more insistently.
“Let him die if he wants a girl.” The gruff voice of the madam said.
“I want to go home.” Aemond swallowed, the motion dry and painful, his throat protesting to that small effort. Aemond managed out more.
“Give me my brother. I want to go home.”
“And how will you face your family if you go back?” the gruff woman asked. Her voice sounded questioning in a mocking way.
“You were sold here for the money that they will live and rise with. Do you want them to lose it, to be hunted down for it? Killed for it?”
Aemond remembered Helaena. How sweet and delicate Helaena had to mother them, work for their living because they couldn’t rely on another. Helaena was sick, a terrible rain had caught her, and she could hardly leave the bed. Aemond had to take up her work himself. He wasn’t any good at it, but Aemond was aware of his charms and used them to attract customers. If there was anyone Aemond would sell himself for, it would be Helaena, but Daeron was just a boy. He hadn’t even seen his fifth nameday before he was stripped away from them, most likely going through the same thing Aemond himself was.
“Drink,” the woman in green said, holding the cup to him.
“The faster you recover, the faster you will have more freedom. Of course, you will work for your freedom, but think of your brother. You could see him.” The green lady tried to persuade. Her desperation was hidden, but Aemond could see the pity and the water filling her eyes.
Freedom. The word felt thin, like a lie you knew even when they tried to convince you it wasn’t. Still, even knowing that something pulled Aemond in.
Aemond’s hand moved. The coolness of the goblet grounded him more than the promise attached to it. The movement cost him more than it should have. His arm trembled, and his grip was unsteady, but he did not let it fall. Aemond brought the cup to his lips and paused, the smell of water unfamiliar after so long. Aemond had not known water to have any smell besides salt.
His gulps were greedy, and his eyes watery as he drank the hot water as if it would be his last time. It hurt as it went down, his throat rejecting and accepting it all at once.
“Good boy,” the gruff woman muttered somewhere behind her. “Maybe you will last. Eliza, take him to the baths. He will room with Adryanna for now.”
A pair of hands slid beneath his arms. His legs buckled the moment they were beneath him. Pain burst through his knees as they struck the wooden floor, and black spots crowded the corners of his vision. He had run the length of the docks with Daeron on his shoulders, laughing while the little boy shrieked that he was flying. He had hauled baskets heavier than himself, carried Helaena's wares across the market until his back ached, and his legs had never failed him as much as they did now. A laugh sounded somewhere behind him.
“Pathetic.” The voice of the older lady sounded.
“He has not stood in weeks,” Eliza scolded. Aemond had felt a bit of fear for her. “Leave him be.”
The other woman had done nothing but click her tongue.
“Come, child,” Eliza said. Aemond had startled when the girl picked him up like a babe. She was delicate-looking, dripping in perfume, jewels, and nice sheer yellow fabric. It clashed with her coloring.
They had walked from the room to a place Aemond had dubbed the hall of doors. Perfume, pheromones, and incense were thick in the air, and behind those closed doors came sounds Aemond wished he could unhear. Laughter, omegas crying out, grunts, singing, music, furniture scraping against the floorboards. He heard it all.
Aemond had quickly realized what kind of place this was. He had known since he was stripped away from his home.
Aemond had not seen where those noises came from. Just a girl no older than Helaena crossed the hall carrying folded linens, and a powdered boy, perhaps fifteen, leaned against a doorway with bruises blooming on his neck. He had not seen any doors like the one he had exited.
Aemond’s schooling began seven moons later, after his strength returned to him. It made his life much harder and faster.
They fed him, washed him, clothed him in fabrics that did not scratch his skin raw. Aemond was then trained in dance, music, seduction, and the seven sighs and sixteen seats of pleasure, the lot of it. It was arduous, humiliating, and most of all horrifying for a child of nine springs.
There was one girl around Aemond's age. His roommate, Adryanna. She was ten and had been there for a year now. Aemond learned they were lucky enough to be the ones in the room.
Adryanna was half Dornish, and her mother was a prostitute brought back by her brother after having worked ten years of her life in the streets of silk. She had been sold here in place of her mother, who wanted to sell herself back into the life of pleasure to get money in their pockets to live, and the only one who truly wanted to be a prostitute.
To be specific, a courtesan. Aemond didn't know what a courtesan was until she told him, but Adryanna said it as one might speak of becoming a princess consort or a queen. Aemond supposed it was in this profession. Becoming a courtesan was to be valuable and respected, and having more privilege and power from the wealthy clientele they brought in. It was a goal he would share, but when Aemond thought of it later on in life, he decided he wanted something more than that.
They became quick friends and did everything together: chores, meals, classes, even clothing, baths, and self-care products. However, within two years, Adryanna was replaced by Alyssa. Alyssa was a sweet girl from the riverlands, but no matter how close they grew, she could never become Alyssa. She had been startled upon seeing Aemond, thinking he was a ghost.
“What’s wrong with you?” he recalled her asking as she took in the shade of his skin, hair, and eyes. Aemond had told her it was normal coloring in his family.
Aemond had learned later that there were four courtesans in Shaela’s brothel. A small number for how many wealthy clients came. After his lessons, Aemond became worried for them. That worry was often laughed off despite how many omegas died of exhaustion or the pox.
Eliza came first in memory. Beta-born, older, the green lady. Sister, as Eliza preferred to be called. She was kind. When Aemond and the others were tired, she would shoo them away and do it herself. If they were hungry, she always had food and snacks, and when Aemond’s bedding had been the victim of pranks from jealousy, she always helped clean it and offer him better bedding.
Then there was Asilla, who was locked up because she caught the pox from a client by the time Aemond had arrived at the brothel. For someone so sickly, pale, and ugly, she always smiled. Aemond had been the usual victim offered to do tasks in her room. It was scary at first, but she was very sweet and told him stories when she could. She had given him the nickname “Nightbloom” in favor of the flowers that grew on the balcony of her old home that bloomed once a year at night.
Wolf, a male omega with a funny name that he got for his suspected northern father, was another. He was beautiful with northern features and beautiful grey eyes that always seemed to shift colors like the puddles of water on the ground. He wasn’t keen on talking much, but he played the most beautiful music Aemond had ever heard and taught him.
“Music is a legacy,” Wolf once told Aemond, fingers resting lightly on worn strings of his instrument. “One that is remembered even when your name is not. And the name of the song has long faded. If your music is true enough, someone will spend days searching for the melody you left behind.”
Aemond never forgot that even when Wolf was long gone, having been bought by a patron and never seen again.
And finally, Jonas, the worst and best of them. He was popular and had all the looks for the job, but no matter how charming he was, nothing could overwrite his hot temper and arrogance. Unfortunately for everyone below Jonas, profit often forgives temperament in this house.
Aemond learned firsthand how bad Jonas’s temper could be after he had been tasked with cleaning his room while he was sleeping. Jonas had woken up, and Aemond was stripped bare and tossed into that room again, only to be released when Alyssa noticed he was missing. He hated Jonas’s guts since.
Spring passed, and so did summer, autumn, and winter. Summer had never been Aemond’s favorite, but running around the brothel, too busy to even wipe his own sweat, made him hate it more. Aemond had been bedridden in the summer once after a lesson that forced him to be more flexible. Before he knew it, three years had passed, and Aemond had turned two-and-ten without Daeron or Helaena by his side. Only the sun's rays burning into his skin through the window had been his company.
His first day begins normally. He wakes up a bit before the sun to brush and style his hair, as well as to dress himself in the prepared clothes and makeup. Aemond moves ahead of the others, choosing not to take his morning meal today. Aemond had honestly expected to find rats or bugs left by some of the other omegas and betas. It wouldn’t be the first time.
Aemond slipped back into his little room and uncurled a letter that slipped through his door. Adryanna was long gone from his room, but they kept in contact. From her recent letter, Aemond learned she was invited to stay overnight with a customer at his home. Aemond smiled a bit. Adryanna had kept true to her goal and used all her charms to get what she wanted. From the letter and what he heard around the brothel, the customer was a noble. A piece of good news.
Aemond himself had struck luck, as earlier that week, Aemond had been called to Madam Shaela’s rooms and told that his debut into the brothel was to be at tonight's party, where the brothel's wealthiest patron would be in attendance. A once-in-a-blue-moon event only the best got to attend. It was the best news, as it meant his work was delayed by a day. Aemond wondered if Adryanna was picked as well.
“Stop picking at your hands.”
The voice came with a flick against his wrist. Aemond stilled. He had not realized he was doing it. Madam Shaela stood beside him from her walk of inspection. She slapped her fan against his cheeks, causing Aemond to flinch away. His cheeks had been reddened a bit more, her intentions most likely.
“You’ll mark yourself,” she murmured, looking pleased with herself. This was a big event, and Aemond was her main moneymaker for tonight. His virginity would be the catch of the night, and with so many wealthy men here, the bidding would be enough to have her coffers sparkling more vividly.
“And men do not pay for damaged goods. I would hate for the assumption to be made that our brothel has fallen on hard times because my main attraction decided to ugly himself before he could be replaced.”
“Yes, Madam,” he said. The words came easily now.
Madam Shaela circled him slowly, continuing her inspection for flaws that might lessen his worth.
“Turn,” she commanded. Aemond did so without complaint.
“Again.”
“Mm.” She tilted her head. “The purple one looks better. You will dress in that one tonight.”
“I shall,” Aemond said simply. The madam smiled.
“Good.” She praised. “I knew there was a reason I favored you. So obedient.”
A servant came forward carrying a tray with a pure white ribbon.
“Ah,” she said softly, taking the ribbon in hand. “There it is.”
“You will wear this tonight. This will show them your innocence and your value.” She continued. Aemond stared at the ribbon against his skin. It made the area seem to glow when paired with his Valyrian traits.
“Beautiful.” Shaela praised once more. A greedy smile on her own, nearly pure Valyrian traits. Aemond had learned the woman was from Lys early on, that she had been trained in Bravoos under a Madame from Yunkai, and opened her own confused yet luxurious brothel in King's Landing.
The streets of King's Landing were pitch-dark when the festivities began. Aemond had been presented to the crowds of men with a musical number and took notes of their lecherous looks. Aemond walked among them, perfume thick in his throat and fueling those looks. It was the scariest thing ever.
The night wore on, the music grew louder, and the wine flowed freely. There were a few fights, but nothing too bad, just possessive, drunk, stupid alphas being themselves. Aemond smiled just as he was taught when one of them pulled him to his lap. By his clothes, Aemond doubted the handsy man even had enough coin to buy his virginity tonight.
“Aemond,” Eliza spoke. Aemond barely had time to react before he was pulled away from a potential buyer to the room Aemond had barely made out the Madam going into earlier.
The door he was brought to was larger than the rest and made of carved dark wood polished to a sheen that reflected the candlelight in warm, flickering gold. Aemond could see his own faint reflection in it. The woman knocked once, then pushed the door open without waiting.
“Your evening’s delight,” she announced to whoever was inside. The room was quieter than the halls, the air cooler, scented not with cloying sweetness but something subtler.
Aemond perked up at the sight of the fancy man dressed in yellows, browns, blacks, and gold. He was a slightly fat man, but his features were the nice, attractive kind that Madam Shaela appreciated on the younger alphas she had taken under her wings.
“Come closer,” the man said. Aemond obeyed until he stood within the man's reach. The man’s eyes, a dark blue, roamed over him. He did not touch, not yet. He just looked, a long, silent appraisal that made Aemond’s skin prickle.
“Yes, tell your Madam I will take this one. The price she chooses is hers.”
“She will be pleased,” Eliza said. The pity was back in her eyes. Aemond knew why. The girl herself had been sold here young and had lost every child she tried to keep. That made her softer to the young omegas and recent alphas brought in.
“Leave us,” the man said at Eliza’s lingering. Eliza bowed her head and retreated, closing the door with a soft click that sealed Aemond inside. The man gestured toward the empty spot near him.
“Sit.” Aemond obeyed with the practiced grace drilled into him over the years. Aemond had nearly shouted in panic when strong, calloused hands gripped his arm. Aemond was spun around and pushed against the bed. The man’s other hand came up to grip his chin, forcing him to look up.
“You are a pretty one,” the man murmured, his thumb stroking over Aemond’s jaw.
“Very pretty.” He leaned in, his breath hot and smelling of wine against Aemond’s cheek. Aemond’s heart hammered against his ribs, a frantic bird in a cage.
What followed blurred, but Aemond never forgot his lessons even when pain bloomed suddenly and sharply in places Aemond did not know could hurt, stealing his breath.
Later, alone in the small room that was now his, Aemond sat at the edge of that bed and stared at his hands. He turned them slightly in his fingers, watching the candlelight catch along his skin, pale and blemished beyond his wrist, and yet everything felt different.
Aemond had been bedded for 150,000 gold dragons by the day's end, a high, unbelievable amount of coin to put on a whore when the usual price for their virginity was one measly gold coin they wouldn’t usually get to keep. The number meant little to him at first. He only got five of them placed into his hands after all. Five gold dragons. What could they buy? He thought. What could they undo?
Aemond had heard men argue over less, seen hands bloodied for coins far smaller, watched hunger turn sharp and ugly over scraps that cost less yet so much. He knew, in some distant, practical way, that five gold dragons could feed a family for a year, perhaps longer. It could buy medicine. Warm cloaks. A roof that did not leak when the rains came.
It could have kept Helaena from working herself into sickness. It could have kept Daeron from being taken. It could have kept him from ever seeing this place. It would have kept Aegon happy for a while. And yet, the number felt hollow in ways Aemond couldn’t describe.
When the door opened once more, Eliza stood there, her expression carefully composed. Her eyes, however, betrayed her. They always did.
“Come,” she said softly. “The Madam excused you.”
Aemond rose. Eliza filled his bath with hot water brought up from outside and scented it with fragrant oils that Aemond surely wasn't allowed to use in his current status.
“You did well,” she said while scrubbing him with rough cotton made from old gowns.
“Well enough that he has asked for you again. He paid a pretty penny for you to only service him for a week. You just started, and you're already a courtesan.” That made him pause, just for a moment.
“Is that good?” he asked. It was, but he didn’t feel like it.
Eliza hesitated. “Yes. Madam is happy.”
“That's good,” Aemond said with a hum.
“It is.” She responded. Aemond was put to bed after.
The sun was a pale, indifferent eye when Aemond woke. He was not returned to the small room he had shared with Alyssa. Instead, he was given a new chamber, larger, with a window that looked out onto a grimy alley. There was a real bed, a chest for his clothes, and a small table with a lantern. Aemond just lay there in that bed still for a long moment, staring at the velvet canopy of the bed. He felt… hollowed out. Not broken, not yet. But something inside had been scooped away, leaving a cold, empty space.
His new life was a blur of faces and names he was never meant to remember. He learned to partition his mind, to let his body perform while a part of him watched from a great distance, detached and cold. He became a master of the arts Shaela had taught him, a perfect instrument of pleasure. He was praised for his beauty, his skill, and his seeming enthusiasm. He was valuable. He was one of the brothel’s main attractions, just as Shaela had predicted.
The man in yellow, whose name Aemond learned was Lord Borros Baratheon, the Lord of Storm’s End, became a regular patron. He was not unkind, in a way. He brought gifts. Things like silk, jewelry, a small, and the intricately carved wooden statues that the man made himself that Aemond kept hidden in his chest.
The man spoke to him of tourneys and feasts, of politics and power, as if Aemond were a confidant and not a purchase. Aemond had even aided the man in certain decisions.
Despite Aemond never enjoying his presence, the man never raised a hand to him, shouted cruel words, or made him do anything uncomfortable besides the act of sex itself. His cruelty was the worst of them all in the form of a quieter show of a casual ownership that was more suffocating than any chains.
Aemond’s world shrank to the size of this brothel, then one evening, even that had changed. He had been lying in bed with Lord Baratheon, the man, curling his silver strands in between his fingers when it happened.
“I will buy your freedom soon,” Borros had said, his voice low in the quiet room. The words hung in the air, strange and foreign. Freedom. Aemond had not allowed himself to think of it, not truly. He turned his head to look at the lord, searching his face.
“And when I do,” Borros continued, his thumb stroking Aemond’s cheek, “I want you to be my wife.”
Aemond’s breath hitched. Wife. The word was a stone in his throat. He was a whore. A wife was something else entirely, but a wife to a noble was something unthinkable. A kept-mistress was more in his future than that. Aemond thought of the lord’s five daughters, of the lady he was already married to.
“My lord,” Aemond began, “you are a married man.”
“A detail,” Borros said. Aemond could see a dismissive hand. “A political arrangement. My lady wife has yet to give me my heir. Our break is inevitable.”
He leaned closer, his breath hot on Aemond’s ear as he kissed it, sending uncomfortable shivers down Aemond's spine. “I will give you a life of comfort. Respect. You will want for nothing.”
Aemond’s mind raced. This was a dangerous game. To be a lord’s kept whore was one thing. To be a lord’s second wife was another.
“I will also find your brother,” Borros added, the words a hook, sharp and sudden. “Daeron, his name was? I will buy his freedom as well. If you agree.”
That was it. Suddenly, the thought of a lifetime of being a beautiful object in a powerful man’s collection seemed not as bad. He thought of Daeron, of the boy he had last seen with a tear-streaked face and wide, terrified eyes. He thought of Helaena, wasting away in some hovel, her cough a ghost in his memory. He thought of Aegon, who had probably drunk himself into an early grave by now. He thought of a life without the constant threat of violence, without the cloying perfume and the rough hands of strangers, and it was decided.
“I am yours, my lord,” Aemond whispered, the words tasting of ash. “To do with as you please.”
Borros smiled, a wide, triumphant grin. He kissed him then, a possessive, claiming kiss that left Aemond feeling dirtier than any client ever had.