Chapter Text
Different stories would be told about King Aegon Targaryen II and how he came to his end long after the last dragon drew breath. The spoken history never quite made up its mind when it came to the kings demise. A large number would swear Prince Aemond had mounted his gruesome beast, Vhagar, and demanded the king a battle upon dragonback for the crown, where the king would subsequently be burned by the war dragon's flame and his own golden dragon defeated, abandoned to die a slow death among the fields. Others claim his throat slit by Prince Lucerys and his own wife, the softhearted Queen Helaena, as it was known by septons and commonfolk alike that she had wept openly for the young prince’s treatment during his wedding night and beyond, and the two were often described as close to mind and heart. A small number would swear it was the youngest brother, Prince Daeron Targaryen, fresh from victory and besotted with his older brother's wife, slayed the king to garner favor of young Lucerys Targaryen. But the truth was far more tragic and violent than either story could portray and only those closest to the royal family knew as such.
In any case, while the realm would not weep for their slain king, Prince Aemond and Prince Lucerys were known to be involved, forever dubbing them there on after as kin and kingslayers, and the name Targaryen synonymous to a cursed fate.
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Prince Aemond did not sleep.
It was entirely for a lack of trying. His teary-eyed nephew slept most of the day in his stead, so dedicated to the task he only briefly woke to eat in bleary silence or to use the privy, and Aemond stayed awake for the both of them. As always, before the omega would then bury his head under blankets and pretend he could sleep his existence away, Lucerys would question Aemond from afar, at the lonesome sentry in his arm chair staring into the fire, holding a perpetual vigil, the gap between them a no-man's land neither dared to cross.
Aemond didn't need to guess to know what that look meant, it was so obvious, as was the fact that nothing he could do would change a thing. After staring at Aemond’s back for an immeasurable amount of time and giving up more and more of that foolish hope the man might turn and grant him mercy, free him, Lucerys would slither under the heavy blankets and fight his own demons in his sleep and it wouldn’t matter if Aemond was there or not.
There was an attempt at first, in the beginning, but being alone in that bed only made them all too aware of each other, of the things Aemond had stolen from him. For good reason, neither of them enjoyed the reminder of being powerless. Taken. Lucerys would have screaming matches in his sleep and Aemond wouldn't be able to close his eyes without seeing smoke, little hands soaked in blood, his brothers face. Bound together, and yet they couldn't stand to be within the same room. Couldn't bear being apart. As of late, if Aemond tapped into their bond he would be bombarded by the omega’s feelings of unwantedness starting to fester over the empty side of the bed, a withering that could only come from an unsatisfying bond.
Still, he did not venture where he knew he was not truly wanted. He kept that part of their bond untouched given he knew how to block it out. It turned out to be without much trouble; he was already quite used to separating out the unnecessary.
The boy’s emotions were an overflow and he could only take so much. He had never known someone could be that taken by grief, although the anger and resentment he was well familiar with. Aemond might have forgotten what it was like to experience the full range of all those messy feelings, as mostly these days he only felt a deep seated bitterness that boiled under his skin and his already fickle temper was at a precarious tipping point at any given moment, but the boy was here to remind him once and for all.
The king and his demands of him did not make matters easier for him, either.
Aegon was more than pleased with their performance, both the one they gave that fated night and every single day since. The mated pair. The kings pawns. A spectacular display of forbidden carnal desires. He told court often that the reason the boy refused to be seen was due to his brother getting him ready for child rearing, banished to the marital bed as every happy wife should be. He paraded the bloodstained sheets around the capital for days after the bedding, wanting them in the throne room but found it a bit too garish. So he hung them in the hall with the other tapestries, next to the one depicting the Mother.
Obscene, how they fluttered trapped and pinned, and all he could see was Lucerys in the center. Bearing it all with tears streaming down his face, the blood between his legs forever engraving itself in history. I started the war, it seemed to whisper the first time he saw it. The ache in his everything afterwards, knowing he is to blame for many things small and catastrophic.
His mother screamed bloody murder when she saw it and the stone-faced guardsmen and servants had gone pale at the shrillness of the dowager queens cry. He could feel it within his own tongue, trapped behind his teeth. Dying to come out.
“He will be one himself some day.” Aegon responded as blithely as a child who knew they would face no punishment. The king had refused his mothers request, passing her off as overly sentimental, a thing he had no time for. “This is a glorious display of war, mother. Perhaps you do not realize we are currently in the middle of one?”
The sheets hung as a mockery to Aemond. There was no other way to see it. And Aemond could not do the one thing he wished to do more than anything else. Whispers flooded the Keep about the second born son and his child bride. All manner of rotten talk from Aemond kidnapping the boy and taking him in the throne room for all to watch, to the young boy seducing his uncle in order to usurp the crown from within on his disgraced mothers whim. The further from court the more vile and debasing these stories became and, after an alleyway of bloodshed, Aemond was banned from walking through the lower city without guard, for the sake of the smallfolk.
Contrary to the stories about him, Aemond did not touch Lucerys more than what was needed of him, which was very little. As the sun rose every morning before he left, he came to the sleeping boy wrapped up in his blanket, blissfully unaware of Aemond’s presence over him. He scented the boy as he slept, rubbing his sandalwood and clove scent into his skin and hair until it was embedded into him. Then he left, quickly, as if he had never been in his own room to begin with.
It was not an easy thing between them, and it never would be. It was far more delicate than Aemond knew what to do with, twisted beyond recognition and already broken from the start. There was no love in their marriage. A deep and ravaging sort of desperate obsession on Aemond’s part - but that hardly could count as love. And truly, in a world that could allow such a thing to happen, was there even a chance it existed? Aemond could not be so sure.
There might not be love but often they were both silent and after a long time, stretching enough that the air was not so pressurized with lightning cutting through storm clouds, they could bear to sit next to each other by the fire. This uneasy companionship felt like a start after the nightmarish months following their wedding.
Nine moons had passed since that night and it had not exactly proven to get any easier. Fires were spreading due to the union - sometimes actual fires - half their supporters claiming Aegon to be mad to condone such a thing and the other demanding something to be shown of their marriage. As if the bloody butterfly sheets were not proof enough, as if Aegon proudly recounting Lucerys’ taking with vivid detail was not enough - they would demand a boy of only eleven to bear a child.
Aemond would not have it, not that it was even possible. The mere inkling of that line of conversation was a sure-fire way to draw Aemond’s sword and his fury.
The only reason Princess Rhaenyra hadn’t stormed the capital was Aegon’s word to put Lucerys to the sword should they attack and they could not be certain how long that would hold, but they knew it would not be forever. Lucerys' life was more precious than Aegon would ever understand, that Aemond knew well. His half-sister, too, but men are desperate creatures at the best of times, and they were preparing for the worst of times. It had always been a fact that this marriage was a sham. That Lucerys was nothing more than a hostage. A war prize. If there was any sign of a Velaryon fleet surging the Bay or Caraxes prowling the skies - the inevitable violence would begin at last.
The king claimed to murder his mate in full confidence not knowing Prince Aemond would shove his sword into any man, woman, or child who meant to harm his omega. He would deal with the consequences as they come. Treason be damned. Honor be damned. Not that there was much of that in these halls.
This marriage was a fake, but if Aemond could do one thing it would be to make it real. The hope that took up space was foolish on his part. Misguided. To hope for love while actively plotting for war, and yet Helaena had called it brave before he glared her out of their chamber. He knew it would not happen overnight, nor would it happen even after a year or two. Maybe if they somehow won the war without further causing the boy harm. The odds are laughable, and yet... He would never have the boy how he had wished so long ago, never be able to love him how he dreamed. But he had Lucerys now - and Aemond planned to keep him at whatever cost.
The young prince, his king brother, the harsh reality around them did not make things kind for him.
The first month and a half, Lucerys had refused to eat. Aemond lost track of the serving trays that had been tossed completely out the window, uncaring of what or who they landed on far down below. Aemond had taken to binding the boy to his arm chair and spoon feeding him, earning quite a few kicks to his shins before he bound his ankles down as well. The boy spit his food out, would refuse to open his mouth unless Aemond pried it open, treating him no better than an animal. Half of the time his meal would end up in Aemond’s hair like he was a damn toddler throwing a tantrum, or gone stale for the flies to dine on.
And Lucerys had begged and begged to let him starve, to let him just die already. It got so bad one night he screamed the words, uncaring of the agony it clawed into Aemond's lungs, making it impossible to breathe, how it made him see red, took him right back to the clouds and the ice cold rain cutting into his face. The descent. The boys little palms, wet with his dragons blood. How could anything ever make him forget that? How could he ever move past it?
Aemond had yelled at him for it for far too many reasons, but most of all because he was terrified of the thought of Lucerys ending his life and leaving him. "You insolent brat! You think starving yourself will end this? Do you really think I would let you die?" His only relief came from Lucerys holding hard onto the brat aspect of his ranting and curled up on the bed sobbing until he passed out. Aemond could not think of it for long, the very thing that fueled his every movement. If he ever lost Lucerys for good, Aemond was not sure what he would do. Blood and flames would bathe the capital and even that would not be enough to mend the depth of his loss. He would not let Lucerys kill himself, even if that meant keeping the boy bound to his bed, chained, unhappy, but alive.
And that is what he did, for a time. He locked Lucerys in their room until whatever episode that tortured him was over. Windows barred shut, all sharp objects removed, nothing around that could be used to separate willing flesh. He dreaded the thought of leaving the boy only to come back to his cold, dead eyed corpse.
It kept him up, that gruesome image. It was not the only one that haunted the man. He never fully slept but he would find himself in a half aware state and sometimes he jerked out of it to the screeching of dying dragons, for a second could only see the flying chunks of what was left of Arrax, horrified of what else could have been consumed, torn apart by his dragon's teeth.
And Lucerys would be there to remind him every second of what he had done. The prince would cry, and cry, and cry for hours. Mournful wails for his dragon and for his mother that would have kept Aemond up if he hadn’t already been suffering this insomnia. The alpha would sit at the end of the bed and watch as his nephew curled into himself while sobbing inconsolably and that abyss within him yawned deeper.
He did not know what to do. All the training he had received in the yard, the years of court, none of it prepared him for this ache that haunted him because he could not help his mate. He could kill a man countless ways, but a boy far too precious to ever have to experience the level of pain Aemond was putting him through was beyond his expertise.
Those helpless moments further made the man despise their bond. He did not want to experience this need to soothe when his attempt would only cause more suffering and misunderstanding. If he touched the boy he would only scream or demand he end his life or set him free. Aemond could not bear doing either, incompetent until the very end.
There was a familiar thought that whispered to him in these moments of obsoleteness. That heavy rain, how he almost couldn't see ahead of him, chasing the red cloak and hurtling closer and closer to his doom. What would have happened if they collapsed under vicious, unrepentant waves. After all, they would be submerged in murky depths together forever. None of this would matter for them, how their families took it. The fighting that would have come.
After that month and as time continued to drag on, Lucerys fought him less about the food. It helped that Aemond would reward him with pieces of sweet honey cake or berries and cream if he had successfully eaten at least half his plate without vomiting it back up when Aemond wasn’t around. The boy had a sweet tooth that Aemond would manipulate to his advantage if it helped. He still remembered the first sick filled vase he found reeking inside their chambers and had been wary of anything basin-like ever since, peering hesitantly into them with no help from his solemn faced nephew.
There was definite improvement once Lucerys became exhausted with the same stone walls surrounding him and meekly followed Aemond around the Keep when the man did not have work to do. His brother might hold the crown but it was the second son sitting in the small council meetings. His only solace was the fact his chambers were not a far walk from the council room and he did not need to part from Lucerys for long.
Though he started to leave the room, Lucerys did not join him often. The walls were full of eyes and whispers, overstuffed with hostilities and green cloaks. No one dared talk to the boy in Prince Aemond’s presence and yet their eyes lingered. But it was important that he was seen, alive and physically unharmed, even more important to see him at Aemond’s side as such. Aemond was no fool to believe his half-sister did not have her own rats scurrying the castle returning with notice of her son's well being, alerting her of any misdoings.
While the castle had been a darkened nest of vipers, having his nephew at his side was a calm his temper needed, a reminder that he was not to suffer this scrutiny alone. He had more to focus on with his omega vulnerable out in the castle, and for a short while he could be content with the way Lucerys stepped in closer as they walked the gardens and how he only stiffened a little when Aemond set a hand on upper back, aiming to be comforting. Though it did not last long, as Aemond should come to expect at this point.
Once they had made the mistake of passing through the hall of tapestries and saw the off white sheets stained with dried blood, disturbed only by a faint breeze. Aemond had forgotten they were still up, having no reason to cross this way. It had demolished whatever progress they had made. Lucerys had immediately started to whine low in his throat. The chalky scent blocker applied to his skin could not staunch the sour ripeness and Aemond had instantly taken the boy into his arms and carried him out of there.
The whispers followed, so many for so many reasons that he could not begin to dissect each one. The scene will murmur its way through the walls and up and down towers until the whole castle knew the prince was still a crying wreck of a thing. “People see those!” Lucerys had sobbed once they were alone, humiliation coloring him the same shade as his cloak. “They all know, they’ve all seen.” His nephew paled, swallowing hard before he was rushing to the open window, hurling up his meager meal.
And they had regressed again. Lucerys refusing to eat, refusing to leave, his begging and crying for Aemond to kill him filled his head with madness and once more he could not escape. He wondered why he did not just indulge the boy and end it for them both, take them both flying through the window until they painted the bricks below.
It took another few weeks of reeking basins of half digested food and rope burn against Lucerys’ skin before he trusted the boy alone. It was driving him mad that he even forgot to eat, to leave their room, to see his family or his dragon. There was no rest. They found themselves in another dreadful loop of tears and screaming.
Their only solace came in the form of the Queen. As it had been Prince Aemond’s entire life, it was her aid that set him straight. Helaena’s nose wrinkled a little at the state of their room but she found the full picture in clear view. Her silence was more devastating than if she said anything. Lucerys had pinkened up and tucked his head into his knees, undergoing the easy feat of becoming smaller. With the windows open for once in a long time, her handmaidens set to cleaning as she used her natural scent to clear the stench of rot. Wildflowers and soft dirt, like a day of playing in the warm sun.
Lucerys was drawn to her, comforted by her, and eventually uncurled to get a better sense of her. Maybe he remembered how Helaena wept for him on their wedding night. Or maybe he had never noticed, but he didn't flinch when she spoke to him, soft as a mouse. Gentle as a caterpillar. He let her near, but she never touched him. They circled each other at a distance, just wounded creatures finding solace in each other's bruised skin.
With Helaena’s soft presence the weeks strained less and less. But even so, it was never going to be a graceful arrangement. The fractured pieces were scattered far and wide and what he gathered in his own hands still only surmounted to nothing. Regardless, he would search and search until he had enough, even if it was the only worthy thing he did with his life.
The captive prince tried to escape only once. He was quickly discovered before he had even managed to leave the castle proper. A knight on duty had caught Lucerys' scent without his alpha attached and retrieved him. Lucerys was lucky it had been an honorable knight, as he was delivered to Aemond’s feet like a kicked puppy, upset but otherwise unharmed.
Prince Aemond had been livid. All expected him to have the boy whipped at the least, but the man had taken the prince by the scruff of his neck like a kitten and carted him off without a word. Following this, rumors would spread that the absence of the boy in court was to hide evidence of mistreatment and those rumors would find their way to Dragonstone where the tone in their returning letters reached scathing.
Lucerys did not seem to understand the weight of his actions, jutting his bottom lip out and moping, and Aemond was all the more ready to educate him.
"Do you have any idea what could have happened to you?" At Lucerys sullen pout Aemond almost throttled the boy. It struck him very quickly how this should not be happening, this was not his place in the boys life, and yet here they were. "This is not a game, Lucerys. You cannot play around in the middle of a war."
"I wasn't playing," Lucerys mumbled as he crossed his arms.
The elder prince was far too annoyed that he had to explain this to an ignorant child and it showed as he nearly growled, fists clenching at his sides. "And what exactly were you doing outside of the Tower, wearing this," he snagged the end of Lucerys' dark cloak, "and a bag full of honey cakes? Which would not have done you much good when you would have eaten them all the first night."
The boy looked down, his bottom lip trembling. "I just wanted to go home."
"And how would you have done that?” Aemond snapped at him. “You have no coin, no dragon, the first alpha who realized you were a lost omega could have taken you for themselves. What would you have done if you did tell people you were a prince, if you had gathered a mob who did not care as long as they got a piece of you for a reward?"
Lucerys' petulance began to shift to apprehension and fear as Aemond continued.
"Do you think you can trust the smallfolk who despise little princelings like you? They would tear you to pieces and think nothing of it. Do you think you can trust anyone who isn't in this room right now? Who are your friends in court, Lucerys? Can you name a single one?"
The intensity of his anger and his questions started to make Lucerys tear up, a sob startling out of him as he curled in on himself. His distress burned Aemond’s nostrils. Drifting in like a corpse at sea. "I-I don't know-"
"No. You don't know." Aemond kneeled down in front of him, cupping his face and making him look at him. "I do not wish to punish you with this, taoba. But you cannot act so recklessly again. The only person you can trust is me, do you understand that?"
It was important that he understand and listen, if this was the one thing he would do for Aemond without a fight. Aemond could not always protect him, and it horrified him. Lucerys’ wet eyes stared into his for a moment before he shakily nodded, his cheeks squished in Aemond’s hands. “Y-yes, qȳbor.”
Aemond's one relief came from the fact that the boy had been scared enough to listen. And while he had wanted to scare the boy, his words were not untrue. There was no love from the smallfolk who could be swayed one way or the other, one king to another. They had cheered on Aegon’s coronation and yet now they shared no love for their king. Who is to say if it had been Rhaenyra being crowned they would not have cheered just as loud, woman or not. As long as it did not worsen their already shitty lives - what did it matter to them who sat on the throne. And it was never a secret how the realm viewed their delight.
But war changed every little aspect of things. Hostages and ransoms were the next best thing to full on battle. And a prize like Lucerys was greatly sought after.
Aemond nearly wished he could lock Lucerys up indefinitely. If it wasn't important for the boy to be seen he would not have shied away from the notion of keeping him out of sight entirely, under heavy lock and key.
Fortunately for Lucerys that was not the case and he was able to roam within the Keep if he so wished. The prince did not, but the choice was still there if he wanted.
Knowing he was completely trapped within the castle only worsened Lucerys’ condition and whatever fresh hell that plagued his nephew that night woke Aemond from a strange trance that wasn’t quite sleeping but not quite awake either. The fitful kicking of the princelings feet sent the heavy blankets off, propelling his fear laced sweat Aemond’s way.
“No, no, please… lykirī, Arrax, lykirī. Dohaerās… he’s coming!”
Aemond stood and crossed to the bed in three long strides. He could not take it anymore. The crying. The stench of burning blood and rot. The boy was sweating profusely, his scent uncontrollably loud and not even the incense could block it. He sweat off any blocker Aemond put on him.
His weight dipped into the bed but his nephew was a deep sleeper and so Aemond woke the boy with a firm shake of his shoulder. “Lucerys, wake up!”
The boy jerked and his eyes sprang open. His mouth widened to scream and Aemond quickly covered it with his hand, dwarfing his face. “Shh, shh, calm down. I’m not going to hurt you. You were having a nightmare.”
When he cautiously let the boy go, Lucerys weakly but spitefully told him, “you are my nightmare.” His hair stuck to his forehead and his eyes were bloodshot. He was a thin and angry thing.
Aemond gave him an empty smile in return. “It is like looking into a mirror, then.” With the boy no longer distracting him, Aemond got off the bed and stalked back to the fire. He almost paced but forced himself to sit, his leg bouncing despite himself. He shouldn't let himself get so worked up but he can't seem to help it.
There were no more wrathful words out of Lucerys long enough he imagined the boy had gone back to sleep. He did not know how his nephew could sleep so often and a part of him grew envious of the easy way he could escape if only for a while. Though that escape did not seem to be holding up.
He turned at the sound of Lucerys joining him at the fire, curling into the opposite chair as a cat would. His index finger was already worming its way into a split in a seam. It had not been there nine months ago. Dark eyes turned bright white in the glow of the fire, molten and inhuman. His hair was worse than a rats nest, his sleeping clothes a rumpled mess. He didn't ask for help, even when he clearly needed it, and Aemond wouldn't have known where to start. None of this was ever supposed to happen.
“Why didn’t you let me die?” the boy asked without preamble, his voice raspy from sleep. He did not look at Aemond while clearing his throat.
Why do you keep asking, Aemond thinks. The answer never changes but there could only be rain between them. Outside it poured down and sent brushes of cold air through the windows. Part of him wished he were in it, soaked to the bone and feeling nothing but the heat of Vhagar underneath, his blood pounding in his ears. What would he do then if he had the information he had now? The way his nephew lived now was no life but his death would have changed more than what this false wedding did. With Lucerys alive they at least had that staying Rhaenyra’s hand. If Aemond had killed the boy it would have been an act of war.
“You couldn’t die.” Aemond told him solemnly, an oath he would upheld to his last breath. “I will not let you die. Even if you wish to seek it.”
His nephew frowned, refusing even then to look at him. He's tired of that answer, looking to get some kind of reaction out of him. It had been stagnant between them these past few days and his nephew was ever the melodramatic. “Then why did you kill my dragon? If you wanted me alive so badly, why did you kill half of me?”
Looking back on that night, nothing he had done had any reason to happen, only he had let a lifetime of anger out on the boy and sealed them to this fate anyway. Aemond had wanted to know why. Why had Lucerys been betrothed to another when it had never been a secret that Aemond would have done anything to be that alpha. For years he had denied each and every proposal sent to him or requested by his mother. He hadn’t deemed it appropriate to formally ask his half-sister, but she knew and kept Lucerys far from him on her island. But that had never changed the fact that there had only been one and Aemond had always known that.
“The thought of letting you go…I could not accept it. But that does not excuse it. I should not have followed you.”
They would not have to suffer this fate together if he hadn't. Lucerys would have gone home unsuccessful in his journey as his mother's envoy, but alive and without Aemond attached. He would be whole and he wouldn’t be asking why he could not lay dead in a bed of seaweed with his dragon.
Lucerys’ eyes went to him without moving his head, the white shifting to hazel. “Then you are my curse as well.”
Aemond hummed, no fight in him.
They sat there in silence, Aemond feeding the fire and they listened to the wood being consumed by hungry flames. His nephew stared tiredly into the brightness, the look in his eyes reflecting a far older age than he was. If he felt Aemond’s occasional glances he never turned to meet them. Only when Aemond moved, fingers moving on muscle memory, did Lucerys show any interest in more than the shifting fire.
Aemond took his time removing his armor, lately he never seemed to part with it. This castle was not safe. But it was too warm within the heaviness and from the heat of the fire and if Lucerys planned to slit his throat he would have done it by now.
“Do you plan to sleep then?” Lucerys had watched him the entire time with his arms wrapped around his knees, chin resting on top.
“Not at the moment.”
“Do you ever plan to sleep in the bed?”
Aemond’s jaw twitched. He could not backtrack far enough to understand why the boy chose to ask that. “Does it matter if I do not? You should be pleased.”
“I am.” His bottom lip was somewhat sticking out. “But it is our bed now. You can sleep there, too. In shifts, if you prefer.”
“Hm.” They were silent as Aemond finished removing it all, the man sighing once it was off. He did not feel any lighter, just colder.
After some time he realized Lucerys was still facing him. He decided to feel out the bond, the uncertainty lying in wait. He raised an eyebrow. “Out with it.”
But no words could come out so the young prince expressed himself in another way. Hazel eyes looked down and away, his scent tentatively reaching out to Aemond. He wanted comfort, this terribly sweet boy. Even though there was nothing more but resentment between them he still sought out his one form of familiarity. Which just so happened to be Aemond whether he wanted it or not. Aside from what he could get from Aemond's sister, the alpha was all the boy had now.
Aemond did not delude himself into thinking Lucerys came to him in these moments for anything other than that. They were bound together in torment. Nothing more.
He stood from the chair and kneeled down next to Lucerys. He took the boy’s soft hand and brushed it against his cheek, down his neck, doing the same to his other hand until Lucerys was comfortable allowing him closer. He scented him slowly, getting as far as rubbing into the boy’s neck before he felt hands against his chest, a tiny whimper into his ear. That ache, the need, it should not have been so prevalent when he touched him. He knew he could take what he wanted if he chose to. But he retreated back to his chair, haunted by the chase of vanilla on his way back.
And even so - like the twisted fates that brought them together - he treasured these moments. If only before the cruel reminder that he could have had this with Lucerys if they had been different, lived different lives. He could have enjoyed taking the utmost care of this omega like he deserved. Instead he collected broken pieces and hoped that in the end he had enough to put Lucerys back together again, maybe missing a few but nothing crucial, enough to feel whole.
He knew he had failed that already as those bloody butterfly sheets still hung in the hall, as his dragon’s bones had already been retrieved from Storm’s End and displayed for all to see, including the boy he failed to protect.
His nephew went to the bed, his dark eyes boring into the back of Aemond’s head as he pulled the blankets away. Aemond ignored the sound of him slipping in, the reminder that he had the omega’s permission to join him. He would not.
Lucerys went to sleep alone as he would continue to do for the moons to follow.