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Aegon seeps into the chamber on tiptoes and immediately looks around.
The room is heated and filled with the heavy air; it smells of blood and some undistinguished scent what usually follows maesters around. Herbs and- No, Aegon can’t pinpoint it.
Further in the room, splattered on dark with blood sheets, lays Lucerys Velaryon.
For a moment Aegon fears the young man is dead, but the steady rise and fall of his ribcage suggests differently.
He is pale - paler than Aegon has ever seen him to be - and his hair is damp with sweat. There's a empty bucket next to the bed full of the water tinted pink and a piece of cloth draped over the edge of the bucket.
But most importantly, there, in the hands of cooing - cooing! - maester Gerardys is a moving, crying bundle.
Filled with their with Luke child.
Aegon's child.
"Can I?" He reaches out uncertainly, and the gentle smile Gerardys sends his way eases some of the worst of his worries.
The man lays the bundle into the prince's arms with care.
"Slowly," he guides. "Make sure to support his head."
Him.
It's a boy. Aegon knew it's a boy.
"Is Luke..?" His voice gives up as the gentle weight is laid into his arms. His entire body immediately starts to tremble and Aegon fears he will drop the boy and when he will get hurt and it would be entirely Aegon's fault, oh gods-
"Breathe," Gerardys' hands lay atop of his. "Breathe, my prince. All is well; your husband is simply resting. The labor exhausted him. Now breathe and look at your son."
Aegon looks and how the hell is he supposed to breathe?!
The boy, he is-
He is perfect.
Small and red and his face is scrunched in a sob, but it's him. Their son.
"H-hello," Aegon croaks and the babe immediate quiets and blinks at him. Such a sweet child, such a clever baby-
"Would you look at that?" Maester smiles. "Seems he recognizes your voice." Aegon feels his chest swell impossibly at that. "Have you and the young prince chose a name?"
"Yes," Aegon whispers as he keeps staring at his son. He can do it all day. All life. "Laenor."
A strange, gulping sound escapes the maester's throat.
"I am sure Lord Corlys will be...rejoiced."
"How is he?" And Aegon knows he needs to raise his eyes, to look at Gerardys, but he simply can't, locked into the face of his little boy. Laenor stares back, eyes big and violet: the same shade Aegon's own are, not darker like Aemond's. Ha. Take that!
Aegon is pretty sure newborn babies are not supposed to stare like that, but Laenor doesn't seem to care.
"Lord Corlys?"
"Yes. You were at Driftmark because of him, were you not? I heard he suffered some injury at the Stepstones."
"He is...well, if not very pleased with the alliance that formed while he was away."
"Meaning he wants me dead?" Aegon raises Laenor in his arms a little and nudges him with his nose.
The boy smells like...like life itself. Blood and Luke and something indistinguishable only young children smell of.
His eyes itch and his nose itches and Aegon wants both to cry and to kiss Luke, to confess his love to him, bring him close and breathe in this familiar scent his sheets smell of lately.
Home.
Luke smells like home and Laenor smells like home and-
"Not exactly," the old maester chuckles. "He did try to crawl out of the bed and grab his scabbard the moment he found out you got his heir pregnant."
Aegon snorts.
"He can't kill me, it will leave Laenor fatherless," he pauses. "I think. Half-fatherless? What is even the right word?"
"I don't think there is a word for it, my boy."
The man on the bed shifts.
"Master Gerardys?" Luke calls out. "...Aegon?"
Aegon immediately walks closer and sits down, careful of the little new life in his grasp.
"Hello," he whispers quietly. "I love you."
Lucerys blinks at him.
"Sorry, what?"
"Master Gerardys, could you please take Laenor?"
"Of course, but what-"
Aegon hastily pushes his son into the man's outstretched hands and immediately starts sobbing.
Luke raises on elbows.
"Egg?" He reaches out weakly to tap him on the shoulder. "Egg, what's wrong?"
Aegon leans forward and practically crawls onto his husband. Luke reaches up to wrap his hands around the older prince's torso willingly, touch weak but sure.
"Aegon?" he tries again as his husband hides the face into the crook of Lucerys' neck.
He feels gentle hands caress his back in a soothing motion.
"I am not mad, if you're worried about it," Luke informs him. "I was in pain, but not deaf: Orwyle wanted to give me some medicine first, but when returned and told to push. Something had to happen, right?"
Aegon stops sobbing.
"I had to tell the true term," he admits. "It could hurt Laenor and-"
"It's alright," he feels swift fingers entangle into his hair, playing with the strands.
"No, it's not," Aegon sniffs. "Aemond, curse him, can count."
He feels the body underneath him tense, but then it relaxes almost instantly.
"So?" Luke huffs. "It's his word against mine. What can he do? Insist what the child born in a marriage - a consummated one at that - is his? What proof does he have?"
Aegon sighs into Luke's neck.
"You have thought of it before."
"Better careful than sorry, right?"
"I-" Aegon sniffs. Now, if Luke wants it, he can leave for Aemond. Their deal is off, broken by no one but Aegon himself. "It's my son."
"Of course it's your son."
"No one is taking him away."
"No one will dare," he feels a feather-light kiss brush his hair and then Lucerys speaks again. "Maester Gerardys? We are endlessly grateful for your help; I can't express how much I am in debt for the care you showed-"
"Should I leave you three alone, my boy?"
"If that's possible," Aegon feels Luke nod. "And I would love to hold Laenor, please."
"Laenor, eh?" The old man chuckles. "It's a good name."
"It's Velaryon name," the young prince's voice sounds sure and firm. "Our son is the future heir of Driftmark."
Our son.
When Luke was just a little boy, he used to dream of the overwhelming, dramatic romance.
Of the fair knight who would fall a victim of his beauty and descend from the skies to take Luke away to a place where it doesn't matter if you're a bastard or not, to a place where brown hair is the sign of royalty, to a place where Luke is loved like all the fair ladies in the tales Rhaena loves so much.
The knight who scoops him up has a long, wavy silver hair and two striking violet eyes; later one eye is covered under the patch and the hair, sadly, loses all its waves.
Luke dreams these folktales until he is heavy with the child and his heart - broken.
It takes him a while to start dreaming again, but when he does, he realizes he dreams of no knights at all.
There is a beautiful prince locked in a tower, beautiful and drunk, and Luke wants nothing more than to free him, to take him away on Arrax' back and hide behind High Tide's pristine white walls.
He thinks he misheard the first time, but then Aegon repeats the confession.
"I love you," and this time it sounds like a life sentence.
Luke can't help but feel a jittery flip in his guts.
His body is weary and tired, aching and broken from the struggle that the childbirth was; but the nature is clever and so Lucerys finds the memories of the pain he went through subsiding, melting, fading away.
His hands start to tremble, slightly first and then stronger and stronger, shaking his entire frame.
Laenor coos on a bed next his chest, soft and soothing like only truly placid children can be. He was such a menace in Luke's belly it is honestly a great surprise the child is such a calm presence now.
"I know you don't love me back," Aegon continues after a pause in which, Luke now realizes, he was waiting for an answer. "But I will do everything in my power-"
A broken, chocked sob escapes the young prince's lips.
He grabs Aegon by the collar and yanks him close, mindful of a new life drifting to sleep nearby.
"You fool," Luke hisses and then devours Aegon's mouth.
The kiss is sloppy and wet and perfect. Aegon moans into it and Luke feels himself shuddering.
"Avy jorrāelan," Lucerys breathes out and feels Aegon freeze. "Vēzos qēlossās ñuho."
His husband begins to tremble and Luke makes sure to wrap his hands around his body tighter.
"You don't mean that," his beloved murmurs. "You can't mean that."
Luke kisses the soft spot between Aegon's shoulder and neck, sucking on the tender skin.
"Ñuha prūmia," he speaks. "Issa jorrāelagon."
"I-"
"Why do you think I have been so jealous of late?" Luke entangles his fingers into the thick, silver locks and tugs slightly. "I want you for myself, I want to be the only thing you ever think of. Well, the only thing but our son," he chuckles.
"I want you to fuck into me with abandon and also taste you in a way no one did before. I want to unmake you and have you, breathless, spent, moaning my name. I want you to go to sleep and wake with my name on your lips, my soul tied closely into yours, I want- Egg, I want everything. Screw the deals and the whores; have me. Love me, bed me, think of me."
"I already do, I always do, I can't seem to stop-"
"Good. Don't stop. Love me, love me, love me-"
"I love you."
"Say it again."
"I love you. Avy jorrāelan."
Luke kisses him again, hot and urgent.
Laenor starts to cry.
"You sly creature," Aegon groans. "You little jealous thing. You don't like it when it's not about you, do you?"
He slides on the sheets next to his husband and reaches for the crying bundle.
"You needy baby," he grumbles in a voice that is so soft it puts silk to shame.
Aegon sits up, Laenor in his arms, rocking him gently while cooing.
Luke's heart swells, impossibly so. The young prince forces himself up as well and puts his head on his husband's shoulder.
"I think I heard us being upset and got upset too," he suggests, watching, transfixed, as Laenor's red face slowly clears of any signs of distress and he stares back at him, eyes of the light shade of magenta. These are not Aemond's eyes and Luke feels awfully relieved at that. He doesn't think he could manage to look into Aemond's eyes on the face of his son for the rest of his life.
"We were not upset," Aegon argues as he leans back to plant a feathery light kiss into the crown of Laenor's thin baby hair.
"But we might have sounded like we were," Luke hums, nudging his uncle with nose gently. "He recognizes you."
"Of course he recognizes me," Aegon declares in the voice so ridiculously proud it aches. "I am his father."
Lucerys laughs, light and elevated sound escaping his parted lips, caressing Aegon's cheek with his breath.
His husband leans into it; the sound, the caress.
"Oh, and by the way, your grandsire wants to murder me."
His impossibly glorious lover only laughs louder.
Rhaenyra enters the room like the storm would; Luke suspects she might have decked a guard or two on her way. The queen follows; slow on her steps, careful, eyes wary.
She knows I lied, Luke thinks with a sudden pinch of fear. They all do.
But his mother hardly cares, she rushes and when freezes, staring at the baby in Aegon's arms with big, wet and loving eyes.
When he raises a shining gaze at Luke.
"He is perfect."
The young prince can only nod, overwhelmed, as he watches his mother trying to take the child away from his father's unwavering grip.
Aegon does absolutely nothing to help and everything - to resist.
In the end the princess gives up and sends her half-brother an exasperated look.
"Aegon."
"No."
"Aegon, be reasonable."
"It's my son."
"And my grandson. No one is taking little Laenor away, just let me hold the child for a little," she tugs at her brother's sleeve insistently. "Please. I will not run off with him, you have my word."
"But-"
"Aegon."
"But I just took him into my arms."
"Aegon."
"He only fell asleep now. You will wake him up and he will cry and I will be upset and-"
"Aegon," the queen calls out from the door. "Let Princess Rhaenyra hold the child."
"But-"
"Egg, it's alright," Luke reaches for his hand to squeeze it gently. "I will personally ensure Laenor is returned to us. I have spent nine long moons carrying him inside my body, do you think I will let anyone to take him away?"
Aegon sighs.
"Fine," he agrees. "But only because Luke said so." He lets his sister take Laenor into her arms and watches like a hawk as she walks around the chamber, rocking her little grandson and whispering sweet nothing to him.
Luke watches Aegon watch Rhaenyra, distinctly and painfully aware he himself is being closely observed by the queen.
"Lucerys," the woman greets as she walks closer.
"Your Grace," he replies and feels Aegon's hold on his hand strengthen.
"One single insult, mother, and I swear-"
She blinks.
"I wasn't going to insult your husband."
"Good," the older prince nods grimly. "Because one harsh word and you will never get to hold your grandson."
The queen pales.
"You would deny me-"
"I would," Aegon cuts off sharply. "I would and I will. Luke just went through extremely horrifying ordeal, he created Laenor from his own body and then bled and hurt trying to let him see the whole new world. One single mean word to him and-"
"Love," Luke nudges him and sees both women turn to them and stare. "I am sure the queen means no harm."
Aegon scoffs.
"She better not-" Lucerys squeezes his thigh and sees Aegon loose the trail of thought. He smirks.
"Would you be so kind to give us a moment alone?" He asks gently. "You can go bother my mother, I fear she has moved dangerously close to the door."
Aegon's head immediately whips to his sister.
"Rhaenyra-"
"I did nothing of that sort, Seriously, you can't even hold your first grandchild in peace in this family," she grumbles, but there is a fond smile playing on her lips.
Aegon turns back to his husband.
"Will you be alright?"
"I will," Lucerys swats a hand at his uncle playfully. "You'd think I'm being left alone with a dangerous convict and not your mother."
"Sounds about the same to me."
"Egg, I promise the queen won't eat me alive. She won't even bite my head off," he gives the woman a quick glance. "I hope."
"Fine. But if she is mean to you - scream."
Luke laughs.
"What exactly? 'Help, my good mother is being mean to me'? Who do you take me for, an infant? Go take our actual infant of my mother's hands."
"Now, I'm not yet done holding him-"
"Yes, you are. See, you woke him up. Did your mean grandmother wake you up, Laenor? Yes, she did, yes she did-"
The silence stretches between them, tense and expectant.
Finally the queen speaks.
"When we talked about love," she starts carefully as if walking on eggshells. "You said you were in love and then it...faded. Who were you talking about?"
Luke stares back at her, chin defiantly raised up.
"Who do you think I was talking about?"
"It seems," Alicent hesitates. "It seems my son - my other son - is convinced Laenor is his."
"Good luck to him trying to prove that."
"Lucerys."
"What?"
"Did you- Did you lay with him? With Aemond."
"And what if I did?" Luke raises an eyebrow. "What does it change now? You knew I wasn't pure when I wed Aegon, this revelation should hardly shock you."
"Lucerys."
"What?" He stares at her, eyebrows scrunched, an anguish hidden somewhere deep within. But Alicent Hightower is a perceptive woman, so she notices.
"...He didn't force you, did he?"
The young prince looks at her silently for a longest time.
"It should tell me something that you suspect both of your sons to prey on unwilling people," he huffs.
"No, it- I- We- Yes, I loved him, alright? And it was mistake, everything was, and that night too, as your faithful dutiful son made sure to inform me afterwards. And then I grew heavy- What was I supposed to do? To call for some witches from the East so they could kill a child in the womb? I know some women in Asshai practice that. But-" his voice falters.
"I felt him, my Laenor, right away. He was there, growing, and I could almost see him- And I knew he would look exactly how the most descendants of Old Valyria look." Luke scoffs. "I don't know why I am even explaining myself to you, I have nothing to explain. Aegon agreed, I didn't force him, we had a deal and when-"
"And when Aegon fell for you," the queen adds quietly. "He cut off some of his drinking, started to attend the family meals, learned old valyrian lullabies. It was him who got you all these exotic fruits you kept eating throughout the entire pregnancy, was it not?"
Luke smiles mirthfully.
"I fear I have bullied him into getting me the most ridiculous things at the hour of the wolf," he admits softly. "But I seem to crave some fruit after-" he cuts himself abruptly and blushes deep red.
The queen studies his face silently.
"Laenor won't be the only child," she comments after a while. "Will he?"
If anything, the young father only blushes deeper.
"I- I meant what I was screaming about during labor, I would hate to go through that again, but-" he looks away, tips of his ears hot to even look at.
"If anything, it won't be for the lack of...bedding. I-" Lucerys looks up back at his good mother with newly found determination. "I love him, Your Grace, wanton bastard I am. I love Aegon with everything I am, and I will cherish him.
He is- I didn't think I could love again, not after- Aemond is not innocent, I hope you know that. I took his eye, yes, but he torn my heart out of my rib cage, thrown to the ground and stomped on it. But with Aegon...I don't remember that, I can hardly care, I only want him and our boy and this little piece of our big family. He is mine, Your Grace, I have my claws into him, and you can't take my husband away."
"I wasn't planning to," the queen replies, perplexed.
"I haven't, perhaps, been very good to him, my firstborn. I put too much pressure on Aegon and underneath it he started to crack and bend and break-" she takes a sharp breath. "And then you came, pregnant and poised, studious - something I did not anticipate from you - and you defended him when I drew the wrong conclusion," she sighs.
"I have to admit: Aegon is looking much...happier than I saw him to be for a long time. He adores Laenor," the queen chuckles. "Excessively so. You ought not to let him spoil the boy."
"I will try," Luke smiles. "But I'm afraid Aegon is only the first in line of willing to spoil my son," he shifts uncertainly, before reaching for the queen's hand but stopping midway.
Alicent inspects the outstretched palm before caging it in her own.
Her good son glances up and immediately looks away.
"I have expected you to be more off with me," he admits. "Yet the words you speak sound almost like...acceptance."
"My first reaction upon hearing the truth was to accuse you of forcing Aegon into this marriage," the queen admits. "But then I had some time to think...Aegon hardly looks like someone who has been locked into a loveless marriage out of some nefarious plot. He looks like a lovesick fool adoring his husband and flourishing under his attention. You're good to him, as hard as it might come to accept. And he, it seems, is good to and for you. What mother would not wish that for her child?"
Luke blinks away uncalled tears; he blames them on the emotional state of being the pregnancy has left on its wake.
"Thank you, good mother," he replies. "I appreciate that."
The queen smiles.