Chapter Text
Aemond feels the bile threaten to rise from his throat as he hears the moans and grunts from his brother’s room. He had prepared for the wedding ceremony and reception himself, determined to make it all work. So he could stop mulling over the anger and betrayal on his brother’s face when he told him of the betrothal. Aegon treated the situation like a battleground, avoiding Aemond like a sickness. Not even Mother could coax him into coming to dinner anymore. He spent his time at the brothels in Flea Bottom instead, coming home at dawn, drunk.
The voices of the past still haunt him every night, with Lucerys’ voice following him every step of the way. It is hard to stay in the present when the past keeps haunting him.
When his heart stops at the sight of his betrothed holding his brother close in his arms, Aemond feels something slip then. The candle he held clattered to the ground, instantly breaking the couple apart. The heir’s heir whips his head around, horror and realization on his face. Aemond meets him with nothing but disappointment, disappearing quickly before the other prince could say something.
“You do not even love him like I do, Aemond! You are nothing but a second son, with nothing to offer but your womb. But I have his heart, his eyes on me! I know he loves me so.”
He runs, tears running down his face, feeling like the world before him will swallow him whole and spit him back out in disgust. Aegon is right, he has nothing to offer---no prospects or promises of anything. It overwhelms Aemond in ways he never allowed himself to feel before.
Eventually, Aemond trips and tumbles to the ground on his knees, hair cascading around him in a gentle curtain.
Footsteps can be heard coming to him, and Aemond whips his head around fiercely, trying to gather his strength.
“Your words are meaningless, Jacaerys!” Only then does he realize that it is not his betrothed but his brother instead. Aemond pauses, suddenly regretting his outburst. The prince holds a single candle in his hand, a concerned look on his face as the older prince looks up at him. Lucerys bends down and offers his hand to Aemond to take, which he does.
“I heard commotion, and my mother sent me to see if you were alright. Did my brother do something, Uncle?”
The silver-haired prince hesitates, choosing to pick at his cuticles a he searches for the right words. If he told the truth, would Lucerys believe him? Or would he turn on him and take his brother’s word instead?
“I saw him…” With Aegon, Aemond thinks, as Lucerys frowns deeper, wanting more from him.
“What did you see, Aemond?” There is a hint of hope in Lucerys’ voice as he asks, and Aemond would not realize that until much later.
“I could not sleep, and I went for a walk. I thought perhaps I could see my betrothed, and he could ease my worries about our wedding. But when I arrived, he was not alone.”
Lucerys sighs deeply, shaking his head as he hears the words. Surprisingly, he pulls Aemond close to him, in a tight embrace, to comfort him.
“I am sorry, Aemond, that you had to see that. No bride deserves that on the night before their wedding.”
All Aemond can do is nod his head in agreement, his arms wrapping around the prince’s torso tightly. Moons ago, he would not have done such a thing, or even let Lucerys touch him. Looking the man in the eye, who died because of him, was a challenge. But in this moment, he felt anchored, not lost in the darkness of the past.
“I do not think I am a bride any longer, nephew. I am merely another omega that has been disappointed yet again. I have three dragons and my father’s affection, yet I cannot hold down a betrothal.”
They break apart quickly as Rhaenyra walks down the hall, concern and confusion etched on her face.
“Brother? Lucerys---what are you two doing out here? I heard commotion.”
“The wedding is off, sister, I cannot marry Jacaerys anymore.” Aemond’s words stop the princess in her tracks, quickly scurrying to his side for questioning.
“Brother, have you lost your mind? This wedding has been planned for moons, and now you decide to change your mind!”
“Mother, it is not his fault! Jacaerys was in his chambers, with someone who was not his bride. Aemond has every right to change his mind.”
Rhaenyra frowns, grabbing Aemond’s arm tightly, forcing him to look at her on her level. “Who was it, Aemond. Tell me the truth!”
“It was… Aegon. Jacaerys was not in his chambers.. He was in Aegon’s.”
Both Lucerys and Rhaenyra frown, part from her son’s hint of hurt from not being told the entire truth.
A silence falls between the three of them as Rhaenyra ponders what she should do now. She would prefer Aegon not to be the next queen consort, but if that is who Jacaerys truly desired, then she could allow it. But she would not allow her brother to be humiliated in such a manner or let the wedding that the kingdom had been paying for to go to waste.
“Marry my son, Lucerys, and you need not ever see Jacaerys again. You will live in Driftmark and have a worthy place by my son’s side.” She lets go of Aemond’s arm and gives him a pleading look as he opens his mouth to protest.
“But everyone is expecting a huge wedding for the heir and future consort.”
“It need not matter who you marry, Aemond. The realm sees this as a huge wedding either way. Right now, I am offering compensation for my son’s offense on his part. No one will be the wiser, Aemond, I promise.”
The fear of Lucerys dying because of him resurfaces, and Aemond wants to say no. But the humiliation he may face tomorrow and the anger Mother may have are enough for him to reconsider. A life away from King’s Landing would do him well, and he would never have to face Aegon if he did not want to.
The past could be changed, and Aemond had the opportunity now to fix it and save himself. To offer a life that Lucerys never had in the past, with titles, wealth, travel, and children. House Velaryon would be the second most powerful house in the realm, after House Targaryen.
“I agree to the terms, princess. I take Prince Lucerys Velaryon as my betrothed and husband-to-be.”
The princess thanks him and kisses him on the cheek gently. She takes her son with her, leaving Aemond to be in the dark once more. The light he had is gone, and he misses it already.
___________
The next morning feels hazy, and Aemond cracks his eyes open to the sunlight coming in. Memories flood into his mind from last night, and the agreement to marry Lucerys. He groans in frustration, throwing a pillow over his head in punishment and defeat. He only worries now that Mother would not understand, since Aemond outright refused to marry Lucerys at first.
He cannot get himself to move and leave his bed, even as servants come into his room, preparing for the day. They talk amongst themselves while drawing a bath for him. A maid manages to coax him into the warm waters, allowing Aemond the time to think about what he would say if he saw Jacaerys today. Aegon would be avoided altogether, sensing he would have a triumphant look on his face the whole time.
Aemond lets himself get lost in his preparations, as maids brush his long silver hair and clean him with determined looks on their faces.
He lets Helaena do his hair in a proper Targaryen fashion, with braids crowning his head elegantly. Mother can see a change of heart in him, but decides not to speak. She allows him peace of mind for now, as the servants help him into his gown. It is an entirely different gown from the one he had originally chosen, which is when Mother finally decides to speak up.
“What happened to the other gown, sweetling?” She tries not to pry as she asks, waiting for him to answer patiently.
“The seamstress ran out of time to finish the gown, so I have chosen this one instead. Do you like it?”
The dress itself was a blue color, a satin-like finish with a hint of green shining through at the right angles. In his past life, Aemond would have hated this color and worn his own colors of green from House Hightower. He exhales, trembling a little as he catches a reflection of himself in the mirror. It might have been a simple gown, but it gave added regalness to his form regardless. Mother smiles at him and gestures for the servants to bring forward a velvet box.
She opens it, revealing a set of jewelry with pearls and turquoise gems in a silver setting.
“A gift from Lord Corlys himself, a set that would have gone to your brother for his wedding day.”
Aegon would have surely worn it and proceeded to break it during or after the wedding, no doubt. He would not understand the hard craftsmanship and toss it carelessly across the room.
“I shall let him know myself that I appreciate the gift deeply.” He smiles graciously as a maid puts the jewelry on for him, fixing any mishaps along the way.
“You still have not told me why you have suddenly decided to marry Lucerys instead of the other boy.”
He turns a little, eyes downcast as his mother gives him another glance. But he does not break under the weight of her gaze, deciding to ignore her words. She will know the truth only after the wedding is over.
With the last finish touches, Aemond makes his way to the wheelhouse outside. He wears a headdress with a veil, covering his view from the people around him. He says nothing as the horses neigh and start their march down the streets of King’s Landing. The whole time, he anxiously picks at his nail beds, heart starting to pound louder and louder down the streets of the city.
Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?
Words that his mother spat in his half sister’s face the night he lost his eye the first time. Would she be proud of him now? Or disgusted that he is willing to marry a bastard for duty and to be a good son. The future is changing down to the minute as Aemond hears people cheering and clapping.
Marrying Lucerys meant seeing his face every day while trying to ignore the past and what Aemond did. How could he marry someone that he had killed in the past and look them in the face and say ‘I do’? Aemond is the whole reason the war started, and that regret and shame are still there now.
When the wheelhouse stops, Aemond gets up hesitantly as the door opens, and a squire opens the door, some Tully boy by the looks of it.
Each step makes his heart race, and a cold sweat starts to break out as Aemond musters his strength for the ceremony. A lady-in-waiting of his mother hands him a bouquet that is wrapped in silk ribbon tightly. He takes them and straightens himself, finally walking down the aisle, alone.
The Sept becomes quiet as the bride and the son of the king arrives through the large doors. There are whispers, of course, of the bride’s chosen groom doing something of ill repute the night before. The princess Rhaenyra was so disheartened by her own eldest son that she had not told him of the wedding plans ahead of time. Or that Prince Lucerys chose to completely avoid his brother and head straight for the training yard in the early morning.
Others say that the Prince himself caught his betrothed red-handed in an act of infidelity and was beside himself. To appease the unjust actions of her son, Rhaenyra offered her second son to avoid humiliation on Aemond’s part.
Aemond makes it to the altar without running and meets his mother’s eyes first. She smiles as Rhaenyra steps forward with a maiden’s cloak for him, the colors of green and black, and red present. His half sister clips the cloak around his shoulders gently and gives him a reassuring squeeze.
The Septon clears his throat as Aemond meets his betrothed’s eyes, searching for something—regret maybe?
After the hunting accident, he became terrified that he would be the cause of his death once more.
As the Septon murmurs about marriage and union, Aemond cannot help but let his eye wander to the other guests in the sacred space. He quickly finds his brother, who unashamedly is sitting next to Jacaerys, a hand on his thigh possessively. There is a small smirk on Aegon’s face, no shame in sight of what he has done. At least there is some regret on Jacaerys’ face, looking far more solemn and unhappy.
Lucerys takes Aemond’s maiden cloak and replaces it with his own. A blue cloak with seahorses and starfish threaded on the fabric with small pearls. He shivers a little, feeling the prince’s hands touch his shoulders gently.
A heavy silence fills the room as they each say their vows. Aemond’s voice trembles a little as he says the words repeated by the Septon. He unconsciously holds Lucerys’ hand tighter as he speaks, looking directly at his brown eyes.
When Lucerys does the same, it is with ease and a softness that helps Aemond a little. When they finish, the nobles applaud and cheer, as the bells of the Sept ring loudly in celebration. Aemond is escorted down the steps from the altar, and together, the pair walk down the aisle—united.
“Thank you… for doing this, nephew.”
When the applause dies down, they head to the wheelhouse. Aemond tries his best to keep his composure as he still feels the eyes of his family on him, watching… waiting. He knows his brother wishes he would trip up the step or fall on his face. But Aemond is better than that; his mother raised him.
Under the veil, he cannot help but weep a little, tears quickly drying as the horses trot along the cobblestones. They sit across from each other, neither saying a word. The younger boy is diligent enough not to ask about Aemond’s tears and appearance.
To his brother, this is a silent victory, but to Aemond… it is a defeat of a different kind.
The rest of the night feels like a blur, with guests coming in and out of the banquet hall. There is dancing and singing, and songs about how beautiful the wedding is. A ‘wedding for the histories,’ as some brave soul claims while drinking another cup of wine.
Aemond watches from his seat at the dining table as his brother dances with Jacaerys, happiness clear on his face. The heir has a flushed look on his face but is smiling nonetheless, content as ever. Had Aemond gone along with marrying Jace, he would not have that look now. No, Jace would surely hate him for not freeing him from their betrothal.
His fingers tighten around the cutlery as the pair dance. Love is there---anyone would be a fool not to see it. Aemond wants to scream and cry at the same time, feeling less and less hungry. He watches as Aegon flutters between partners, but always somehow comes back to Jace at the end of each dance. If Aegon had loved Jace so much, why did he not fight Aemond when he told him the truth?
Rhaenyra comes up the steps to the large table and sits next to Aemond. Her eyes meet the pair below, both siblings watching Aegon now. She shows disdain, though, unlike Aemond, who has a blank look on his face. Rhaenyra takes one of his hands in her own and squeezes it gently. The princess forces him to meet her eyes, finally turning away from the sight.
“If Aegon had loved Jace for so long, he should have objected more,” Aemond says absentmindedly.
“No, Aemond, it is not love---it is lust. If he truly did, he would have tried harder, but I rejected their betrothal. Aegon is a whore who will soon lose interest and leave my son alone. Jacaerys will soon realize his mistake and shall fix it.”
“You are so sure, dear sister?”
Rhaenyra looks at her brother and the look in her eyes makes Aemond hesitant. “Trust me, brother, Jacaerys is a smart boy. He will realize his.”
Aemond’s eyes wander back to Jace just as the prince meets his gaze. He can see the inkling of regret starting to spread. He quickly turns away, choosing to search for his husband instead. His stomach growls a little as nausea starts to rise in Aemond’s throat.
He sips some water in an attempt to feel less sick about his decision and marriage as the night goes on.
The new couple are escorted to one of Lord Corlys’ ships to be sailed to the High Tides. As Lord Corlys described it, the couple would wake up in their new home, with the sun rising above them. A signal to a new dawn and a new, prosperous and fertile marriage.
Quite the opposite when Aemond feels green around the gills while Lucerys is outside on the deck. He feels his lady-in-waiting hold his hair back as he throws up again in a bucket. Another wipes away his mess with a cloth swiftly.
“Aemond! You are missing the beautiful view of the sun!” Aemond rolls his eyes, stomping to the door and slamming it shut. His ladies-in-waiting help him undress until he is in his night shirt. He trudges to the small bed in the cabin, collapsing into a sweaty heap. The coolness of the sheets help Aemond feel a little less gross, feeling the ship rock back and forth repeatedly.
“Leave me.”
His ladies bow and leave quietly, one of them opening a small hatch to let air in. Aemond whimpers a little, patting the pillows until they are good enough for him.
Back in King’s Landing, Rhaenyra sits in her chambers, reading a scroll from her son about their journey. She cannot help but chuckle at Aemond’s struggle to adapt to the sea unlike his husband. Aegon and Viserys are below her feet, playing with their toys and babbling to each other. They were growing up so fast already, and Rhaenyra feels old just thinking about it.
The doors open, interrupting her peace as her eldest son and heir enters. Rhaenyra says nothing as Jace bows to her, looking more weary than usual.
“What is it, Jace?” She says calmly, continuing to read her letters from Lucerys while her son stands there awkwardly.
“Mother, I have come here to ask for---”
“I know why you are here, Jacaerys. Be clearer in what you say next.” She discards another letter, still not acknowledging Jace’s presence. Aegon and Viserys are unbothered by their elder brother.
“I wish to marry Aegon, your grace, with your blessing.”
Part of the scroll rips in Rhaenyra’s grip as she finally meets her son’s eyes, practically glaring at him. “So.. here you are now, humbling yourself by asking me for my brother’s hand in marriage. Have you even properly courted him? Or is there something else?”
“I have followed the proper rituals and customs to court an omega of Aegon’s station. I have asked him for his hand in marriage and he has accepted.”
“You honestly think you can come here and lie to your own mother? Right in front of your brothers too? My, my, what a king you will make.”
She stands, sighing in disappointment, as Jacaerys trails behind her, at loss for words. Rhaenyra pulls out a quill and starts writing quietly as Jace says nothing.
“If anything, I should have you sent to Dragonstone and marry some girl there in the village. You know what I think of my brother as queen consort. You are lucky that I am even giving you a choice. You should be thankful I have not disinherited you either for thinking with your prick and not your head.”
“Mother--”
“Did I not teach you better than that, Jacaerys Velaryon. Your father would agree if he were here.” Rhaenyra’s quill snaps in her hand, while Jace looks more uneasy now.
“If you have come to me to ask for Aegon’s hand, I assume he is with child.”
Jace says nothing, bowing his head quickly and leaving the room without another word. Rhaenyra rubs her temple tiredly as she looks up to see her boys still playing, oblivious to what has transpired. She did not want Jace marrying Aegon but if her brother is with child, there is no choice but to marry them. She prays that the marriage between Aemond and Lucerys will go more smoothly at least.
If Aemond warms up to her son, that is.