Chapter Text
Screaming cut through the air and Aemond startled awake. He winced, a sharp throbbing in his face overtaking him immediately.
"No!" his mother's voice drew his attention. Her sobbing grew louder as he stumbled towards the door. "He's just a little boy!" she shrieked and Aemond stiffened.
Opening the door slowly, Aemond peeked out to see three kingsguard in the hallway. His stomach dropped. Bile rose in his throat.
Had the king changed his mind about punishing him? Was he going to be-
"Aegon!" his mother lunged forward as two of the knights passed by his door. His brother was limp in their arms, eyes glazed over and feet half dragging as he tried to walk between them.
"Mother?" Aemond opened the door fully. She was clawing at Ser Criston as he held her back. Tears streaked down her face, eyes wide as she shrieked after his brother.
The sun was barely up. Torches lit the hallway more than the bits of light streaking through the window. His mother was in her nightgown, her dressing gown loose around her shoulders. Improper, with the kingsguard there, but she paid no mind to that, struggling in Ser Criston's arms.
A whine drew Aemond's attention back to his brother. His face was flushed, pain twisting at his features. He squeezed his eyes shut, crying softly for their mother.
"What's happening?" Aemond called after him, but he was already being pulled around the corner.
"He can't do this!" his mother yelled, shoving uselessly at Ser Criston's shoulders. The kingsguard exhaled. His own lips pursed tightly
Ser Criston was a knight. Strong. Brave. He'd been to war even. Aemond swallowed thickly as the man's voice cracked, "He can, your grace, he's the king. It's... it's his right."
Head swimming, Aemond watched his mother's hair fly out as she shook her head. The auburn strands stuck to her cheeks. She was wailing, screaming. Ser Criston cringed as her nails found purchase in his neck.
"Go back to bed, my prince," Ser Criston caught the queen's wrists, holding them above her head as she struggled. He grunted as she kicked at him. Biting his lip, Ser Criston looked to him, "Bed. Please."
"What's going on?" Aemond demanded. His hands fisted at his side as his voice wavered. Ser Criston grimaced.
Blowing out a breath, Ser Criston shook his head, "Your brother is being taken to the king. He..." He bit his lip. With a huff, he wrapped an arm around the queen's waist, hauling her off her feet and towards her chambers. Ser Criston inclined his head, "I will come see you, to explain, once the maester sees to your mother."
Her voice was hoarse from screaming, but she hadn't grown any quieter. Shouting for his brother, sobbing. Aemond stood in his doorway, still as stone, as she bit at Ser Criston's hand.
"Your grace!" Ser Criston yelped, nearly dropping her. A maester appeared. More guards. It took three of them to drag his mother into her bedchamber, not counting Ser Criston.
The king was going to kill Aegon. Execute him, for calling Rhaenyra's sons bastards. For Aemond's crime. Nothing else could move his mother to such hysterics, surely.
Without another thought, Aemond ran. He couldn't let his brother pay for his words. His actions! Aemond's chest ached and his face throbbed.
"Prince Aemond?" the guard at Rhaenyra's door barely had time to reach for him before Aemond rushed past him, door slamming against the wall.
Rhaenyra startled, standing from a table in the back of the room. Her husband did too. Laenor took half a step in front of her, hand waving his nephews back.
"I lied," Aemond told her, chest heaving. He whined as pain buzzed across his face. "I lied, Aegon never said that. He never called them bastards, I swear."
"He didn't?" Jace pipped up, slipping past his mother. Her hand shot out to keep him behind her as Aemond nodded sharply.
His head bobbing sent a stabbing sensation up through the wound on his face. He choked out a breath, hand rising to clutch at his cheek.
"No!" Laenor snapped and Aemond flinched away as the man grabbed his wrist, "Don't touch your stitches, okay?"
"It doesn't matter!" Aemond ripped away from him, stumbling back. A guard caught him before he hit the ground. He hiccuped, wiping at his face to hide his tears.
White spots exploded across his vision in his good eye. He crumpled to the floor, crying. Breaths gasping, Aemond fisted his hands in the hem of his night shirt.
"He didn't do anything," Aemond sniffled, vision blurring, "He only said it to protect me." A hand ghosted over his shoulder and he looked up.
"Aemond, has something else happened?" Laenor asked, head tilting to the side. His brow furrowed. The skin on his forehead wrinkling. "Why are you here?"
Blinking slowly, the room shifted in and out of focus. Aemond inhaled, "Aegon..." He glanced towards the table, to the reddish blur he knew was Rhaenyra, "You didn't tell the king to do it?"
She straightened and Jace's head whipped around, dark hair flying as he came into focus, "Do what?"
"Take your brother to your room," Rhaenyra frowned, hand squeezing at Jace's shoulder as she pushed him vaguely towards the door that led further into their chambers. She took a step closer to him. Aemond hunched his shoulders.
"Aemond?" Laenor arched his brows as his sons lingered, Jace watching him over his shoulder as he walked away. Luke tucked under his arm. Both of their gazes lingered on him until the door leading deeper into Rhaenyra's chambers was closed behind them.
"The kingsguard dragged him away," Aemond whispered, rubbing at his arm. He swallowed, "Mother... Cole called a maester. She kept fighting him. Screaming." His breath hitched, a sob rising in his throat, "Is Aegon going to die?" He looked to Rhaenyra as her eyes widened. "I swear he never said it!"
Her hands rose up. Rhaenyra smiled tightly, "I believe you, Aemond." She took another step and he flinched, hissing as his face ached. His cheeks burned. Throat bobbing as fear crawled up his spine.
"Hey, it's gonna be okay, Aemond," Laenor assured him. Chuckling wetly, Aemond ducked his head.
"It took three guards to restrain my mother," Aemond spoke harshly, almost sneering at the floor. His nose wrinkled. Lips curling back.
The pain needling beneath his skin paled in comparison to the twisting in his chest. His breaths stuttering, Aemond pushed at the floor and tried to stand.
Laenor hovered, hands reaching forward in an aborted gesture as Aemond clamored to his feet. He used the floor, a chair, his own wobbling knees. The arm beside him pointedly ignored.
"I don't know why the king summoned Aegon, but I can't imagine he'll come to any harm," Rhaenyra sighed. She clasped her hands together, lips pursing. Aemond blinked at her. Nostrils flaring.
Rubbing a hand over his neck, then his face, Laenor glanced towards his wife. Her gaze flickered from him to Aemond. She rocked forward, head nodding slowly.
"You've had a very long night, Aemond," Laenor's voice was soft. His smile shaky. He didn't touch Aemond, but he moved closer, "Your mother too. Perhaps the king just wanted to speak to Aegon without all the... the tension, from earlier."
It wasn't night anymore. He'd refused milk of the poppy so he hadn't slept much, but it wasn't as if it had been that long, truly, since they'd all been gathered before the Driftwood Throne. A few hours at best.
"Aegon wasn't even there for the fight," Aemond mumbled, gaze falling to the floor. He wasn't so sure Aegon would've done anything but laugh at him anyway. With a huff, Aemond turned his head, hair falling into his face, "He always takes Jace's side anyway."
"We'll go see him, the king, see what this is about?" Rhaenyra stepped towards the door to the hallway, gesturing out. Her eyebrow arched.
She was smiling at him. Eyes wide, tired, like his mother's had been when she saw him to bed. Her hands wringing in her lap as she muttered about Rhaenyra and the king, his nephews.
"You'll... you'll make sure he's not in trouble?" Aemond asked, jaw clenching. He exhaled. She nodded.
"Come, Aemond, we'll see that both you and Aegon are returned to the queen, I'm sure she's very worried about you both, with you running all the way here in your condition," Rhaenyra beckoned him forward and Aemond went, following two steps behind, just out of her reach.
It was easier, with his vision all... wobbly. He pursed his lips. The maester had said it would adjust, eventually. Brow furrowing, Aemond muffled a pained grunt and forced himself to relax his face.
Much easier said than done, especially with Rhaenyra glancing back at him. Constantly.
She cleared her throat, hand brushing down her front, "I... I hope you know I hadn't meant anything... earlier, what I said, I... it was not meant-" Rhaenyra stopped abruptly as they reached the king's rooms.
"What?" Aemond watched her spine go rigid. Her lips parted in the quietest gasp he'd ever heard.
And then he heard it.
His mother's screams had been kinder. He almost wished he could hear them now, that they were drowning out the whining.
Aegon was crying. On the other side of the door. His annoyingly stupid older brother. He was crying.
Their father groaned and Aegon whimpered.
"What's... what's he doing?" Aemond's voice cracked and Rhaenyra's head snapped around. Eyes wide, petrified as she stared at him.
Slapping noises. Something... squelching.
Bile rose in his throat again. The king moaned. A muffled exclamation. His voice breathy.
"Is he..." Aemond's vision tilted. He turned his head. The kingsguard were avoiding his gaze. All of them had their eyes trained on the floor.
Ser Harrold's head was tilted back, eyes closed tight as he grimaced.
"We should go," Rhaenyra took hold of his shoulder. An arm wrapped around his head. Her voice cracked, "You... you shouldn't be..." She whimpered as Aegon cried out.
A strangled sob as the king groaned.
"Don't listen," Rhaenyra told him as she shuffled them away. Aemond stumbled along beside her, face buried in her chest. He wrapped his arms around her waist.
"Why would he be doing that?" Aemond whispered, hands fisting in her dress. He looked up. His face was numb. His whole body. Like he was just floating. Dragged along by Rhaenyra as she fled their father's chambers. "That's... Mother says only a husband and wife are meant to... to couple."
To fuck. The king was fucking his brother. Their father had summoned Aegon to... to have sex?
"It doesn't make any sense," Aemond cried, head shaking. Rhaenyra bowed her head, kissing at his hair. He shuddered through a sob.
"Aegon's an omega," Rhaenyra breathed out, rocking him slowly. Aemond blinked. His vision blurred again. The tears making it all worse.
The pain was gone. As if all his nerves had been deadened, like the maester had done to his face earlier, with some weird salve. Slimmy as it was applied before all sensation dripped away.
"Have... have your tutors told you about Alysanne's Laws, the right to First Night?" Rhaenyra swallowed, eyes squeezing shut. He nodded and her lips spread wide in a sad smile, almost manic as she tossed her head back, "She missed one. She tried, but..."
"It's his first heat," Aemond mumbled, falling to the floor. Rhaenyra held him, lowering him down slowly till they were both sitting against the wall. She bundled him in her arms. Her own body trembling.
Aegon's first heat. The only one before he became one of the most fertile omegas. A Valyrian omega. His heats nearly guaranteeing a babe if he were... if he were bred, like the maesters had said, sated with a knot. An alpha's knot. Like the king's.
"It'll stop, won't it?" Aemond choked out, head falling into her shoulder. "The maesters said a knot would break an omega's heat."
She held him tighter. Rhaengra shook her head, pressing a kiss to his forehead, "For a regular omega, yes." Down the hall, echoing off the stone, the king cried out in pleasure. Rhaenyra clung to him, her own face wet with tears, "Valyrian omegas are... more resilient."
Ser Criston found them an hour later. Scratches littered his face. A bruise was forming on his cheek. Another on his jaw. He went right for Aemond, kneeling on the floor.
"My prince," he brushed a hand through Aemond's hair. Staring up at him from his sister's arms, Aemond hiccuped. He was shaking. Trembling. Just like Rhaenyra.
The knight swept him into his arms and Aemond went, a mere sack of flesh he couldn't even feel. Limp in Ser Criston's arms. The man held him close, arms firm beneath Aemond's legs, his back. Aemond curled against the knight's chest.
"Alicent?" Rhaenyra tucked his hair behind his ear, cupping his face lightly. Her bottom lip quivered as she raised her gaze to Ser Criston's eyes, "She... she knows?"
"The maester gave her a tonic to help her sleep. Milk of the poppy too," Ser Criston said, lips pursing as another of the king's moans echoed down the hall. A strangled cry followed, quiet and mewling, like a sick cat.
Rhaenyra squeezed her eyes shut, tears clinging to her lashes. She exhaled slowly, "Get Aemond out of here." Her hand reached for the wall, bracing herself.
With a clipped nod, Ser Criston turned around. Aemond sniffled. The kingsguard held him tighter, "That isn't... you shouldn't have heard what... what was happening."
He probably shouldn't be hearing Rhaenyra sob either, but when they turned the corner the sound followed them. A shriek of anguish, nearly a scream.
Ser Criston stiffened. His throat bobbed.
"Why would he even want to..." Aemond clutched at Ser Criston's armor. His fingers curling around the edge of his breastplate. "Aegon's not his wife."
His mother. Rhaenyra. They were both upset. The kingsguard. But no one... no one was stopping it. Only his mother had tried, had fought to keep his brother from being dragged into that room.
Aegon's crying lingered in his ears. His quiet whimpers and his whines. They all bounced around inside his head.
Ducking his head, Aemond mumbled against metal, "Aegon... Aegon doesn't want it. He's crying, in pain." Aemond looked up at Ser Criston, "Alphas are suppose to protect the omegas under their care. Not... not hurt them. Not-"
"The king is exercising his right as the head of House Targaryen," Ser Criston forced out as they entered Aemond's room. He knelt on the bed, laying Aemond down carefully. "There's nothing we can do." The words were whispered and the kingsguard's face twisted.
A hand combed through his hair as Aemond bit at his lip. The stuttering sob slipped out regardless. "But why not?!"
His hands fisted in the sheets and he cried out as all the pain flooded back in, as if his face was being ripped open a second time. Aemond glared up at him, shouting.
"You're suppose to protect us!"
The knight closed his eyes. He shook his head, shoulders hunching. He stepped back, "I serve the king, my prince, as we all do." Aemond shuddered and Ser Criston didn't say another word.
A maester came in to check his stitches shortly.
This time, Aemond didn't turn down the milk of the poppy.
It was a dragon's shriek that woke him next. His room was empty again, dark. Aemond turned his head to see Sunfyre flying past his window. Golden wings reflecting every bit of moonlight and the flames of every torch outside.
The blurry streak of silver hair and a green cloak on the dragon's back was the last Aemond would see of his brother for ten years.