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Chapter Text

AEMOND

Aemond remembered the night he lost his eye best when the sun set. When training did not render him too exhausted to lie awake, the memory crept out from its hiding place within his mind. When he lay in bed in his small room, he relived the moment he lost his eye. He saw his father refuse to punish Lucerys for the deed. He saw his mother grappling with Rhaenyra, Viserys’ dagger in hand.

“…but now they see you as you are.”

Then, the dagger flashed down. Aemond did not see it hit Rhaenyra. He only saw her stand dead still, eyes going wide, and saw his mother freeze.

A moment passed. Then, Rhaenyra collapsed backwards. Alicent staggered back, hands over her mouth and babbling, “No! No! I didn’t mean it!” Her rotting roses scent took on a sour, panicking note.

Viserys rushed forth with more energy than Aemond had seen from him in months. Daemon rushed forth from the shadows and caught Rhaenyra before she hit the floor. Their scents burned.

Only then as Alicent backed away into Ser Criston’s arms did Aemond see the dagger buried up to the hilt in Rhaenyra’s chest.

In a flash, Princess Rhaenys came forth, clapped her hands over Baela and Rhaena’s eyes and shoved them out of the room. Jacaerys and Lucerys were left to watch as Rhaenyra tried to speak. Nothing but a mouthful of blood came out. She tried to turn toward her boys, seemingly unable to hear her father’s panicked cries of, “No! Rhaenyra! Rhaenyra, my only child!”

She just managed to turn to her boys. They both stood like marble statues, staring with blank, uncomprehending horror as their mother gurgled out her last breath. Then, she went limp in Daemon’s arms and the smell of blood and shit choked the air.

A silence that seemed to take days followed. Then, Viserys let out a loud, agonised howl. He bent over his daughter’s chest, his wails and burning charcoal scent filling every corner.

That seemed to wake everyone up from their shock. Lord Corlys seized the boys and rounded on one of the guards, “Get them out of here, for gods’ sake, and find my son! At once!”

“Wh-where is Ser Laenor?” The guard stammered.

“Likely somewhere quiet.” Lord Corlys turned a burning gaze and the full force of his stormy scent on Alicent, “Where he can mourn his sister in private!”

Alicent’s white face went red with mortification. She seemed to have lost the ability to speak. A white-faced Otto spoke in a rush for her, “It was an accident! Everyone in this hall saw that this was an accident! The Queen is not to blame for this misfortune!”

Then, Viserys rose.

Later, Aemond would hear it said that Viserys was slow to anger and that anger often came too late. When it did come, however, it was terrible to behold. 

When Viserys raised his tear-streaked face, Aemond could see not his feeble father. He saw the last rider of the Black Dread, ready to wreck devastation on all in his path.

“Misfortune?” Viserys repeated, fixing Otto with a look that made the beta quail, “But it is no misfortune for you or for Alicent, is it? You all must think me simple. You think I have not noticed Alicent’s constant attempts to humiliate Rhaenyra and tarnish her good name? You think I have not forgotten your relentless attempts to push the rightful heir from her seat and place an imposter on the throne after I am gone!” He jabbed his cane toward Aegon.

“He is no imposter. He is your trueborn son!” Otto cried.

Aemond knew even then that it was the wrong thing to say.

“He is no son of mine!” Viserys roared, “No child of her blood is a child of mine!”

Helaena had turned to the wall then, hands over her ears and weeping. Aegon looked as stunned and horrified as if Viserys had whacked him over the head with his cane. Aemond could not remember how he had felt in that moment. Likely, his mind had been too muddled with milk of the poppy to fully take in what was happening.

He remembered Alicent’s reaction, though. He remembered that she fell to her knees and clasped the hem of Viserys’ robe. Through tears, she begged, “Please, my husband, my love, do not let your anger fall on your innocent children! The fault was mine. Let me bear the punishment alone!”

“No!” Viserys put the end of his cane to Alicent’s chest and shoved her away. Then he jabbed it at Otto, “I will not let your treachery fester any longer! I tried my best to be kind. I let her remain by my side and let her children remain in the Keep though I knew both were products of your ambition! I did it out of the goodness of my heart and look how you repaid me! I should have sent the lot of you away the moment I realised why you pushed Alicent in front of me in the first place!”

“Your Grace!” Otto stepped in front of a sobbing Alicent. It was the first and only time Aemond remembered seeing his grandsire panic, “I beg you to be reasonable! It is most unseemly for a King to strike his loyal wife in the presence of great lords!”

In that moment, Daemon spoke up, “Just as it’s unseemly how quick you claimed your position after the suspicious demise of the previous Hand. A Hand, may I remind everyone, that was steadfastly loyal to Rhaenyra over Alicent.”

Perhaps, Daemon's accusation would have been dismissed as groundless speculation. Otto may have been able to refute it and bring Viserys back to his side. But, before he could speak, Alicent crumbled under the weight of her guilt and wailed, “I didn’t want it to happen that way! I only said I missed my father. I didn’t mean for Lord Larys to do such a thing!”

Daemon’s eyes flashed with triumph, “I knew it! See, brother? See the viper you sheltered all these years?”

“The Queen is distressed!” Otto tried to say, “She doesn’t know what she’s saying - “

“SILENCE!” Viserys roared, “ONE MORE WORD OUT OF YOU, HIGHTOWER, AND I’LL HAVE YOUR TONGUE!” He turned to Daemon, “Take his pin.”

Daemon looked as if his nameday had come early as he approached Otto. He didn’t take his pin right away though. He gave Otto a wicked smirk and said, “He and his viper of a daughter have spent many years at court. Who knows how far they have spread their venom? Removing them won’t be enough. I suggest we arrest them both for treason and work to track down their co-conspirators. Like him.”

Daemon jabbed a finger at Ser Criston. So far, Ser Criston had been lingering close to Alicent, unsure whether he should intervene to stop Viserys.

“I am no traitor, Your Grace!” Ser Criston protested, “I have only ever served - “

“Alicent.” Daemon finished, “Rhaenyra oft told me of your preferential treatment of Alicent’s children over the true heirs. And that Alicent was the one to claim your vicious attack on a member of the Velaryon household at Rhaenyra’s betrothal feast was justified. One must wonder now whether she was telling the truth or whether she was simply protecting her own lackey.”

Ser Criston went pale then. He looked round to Alicent but, this time, she didn’t come to the rescue.

“Yes. We must wonder whether a single word Alicent ever said to me was ever true.” Viserys snarled, “Ser Harrold, remove his white cloak and throw him in the castle cells to await trial! And throw Lord Larys in the cells too! He will answer for his treachery and kin-slaying!”

Ser Harrold did a better job than Daemon at hiding his pleasure at fulfilling that order. Still, even one-eyed Aemond could see how happy he looked to rip off Ser Criston’s cloak and drag him from the hall.

Neither Ser Criston nor Lord Larys would face trial in the end. Lord Larys had slithered out of Hide Tide before anyone started looking for him. As for Ser Criston, he was found dead in his cell on the morrow. Some said he’d stabbed himself with his own dagger. Others said he’d hanged himself with his sword belt. A few speculated that Ser Laenor crept into his cell later that night and slew him in retribution for Ser Joffrey Lonmouth. Aemond couldn’t be certain which was true but it didn’t matter now.

What mattered was what came after Ser Criston was led away. Alicent scrambled across the floor and threw herself before Viserys again, “Your Grace…my King…I beg you. I have been a loyal and faithful wife to you all these years. I would never countenance treachery. Rhaenyra was my friend. I didn’t mean her any harm. It was an accident…”

Viserys wrenched his robe out of her hands, “Yet, you would have taken her son’s eye over an accident! No, I will not hear another word for you! I say again, you are no wife of mine and your children are no children of mine! I disown them! They are naught but bastards in my eye! They shall not have my name, they shall not have a place in my home and they shall not have dragons!”

That, Aemond understood all too well. So did Aegon.

“You can’t do that!” Aegon cried, “Sunfyre’s mine! You can’t take him away!”

Any further protests he might have made were cut off by a cry of pain. Aegon clutched his abdomen and doubled over. There was another strong scent of blood - which then morphed into a sweet apple and honey aroma.

Daemon’s smile turned twice as cruel, “Well, well, looks like Aegon wouldn’t have inherited anything after all.”

Through blinding pain, Aegon looked toward Alicent. His eyes begged her to make this better, to say he couldn’t possibly be presenting as an omega. But there was nothing Alicent or Otto could do. Nothing but watch as their hopes and ambitions, like Lady Laena, went up in smoke.

Aemond had started that night a Targaryen and a new dragonrider. He’d ended it a bastard, barred from his dragon and then from his home.

So, it had been for ten years. The pain of these recollections did not diminish. He had only become hardened to it after such a long time. Nor did he wish it gone. He saw these memories like a training exercise. If he could think of them without being undone by the pain of it, he could at last move forward.

When he could no longer dwell on them, Aemond Rivers would close his eye and try to sleep as the wind whistled through Raventree Hall’s dead weirwood tree.

#

Excerpts from Grand Maester Munkin’s ‘Fire and Blood’

The death of the King’s chosen heir was a terrible tragedy. King Viserys never truly recovered and, following that night, he handed over control of the Kingdom to his new Hand, Lord Corlys Velaryon, who would act as Regent with Prince Daemon by his side to advise him. Prince Daemon had been offered the position of Hand first but he declined. This came as a surprise as he was often heard to bemoan the fact the position was never offered him. He later claimed he never wanted the position in truth. His displeasure at the lack of offer were, in his words, ‘merely on principle’.

Both men threw themselves into the job with full force and they wasted no time in rooting out what would be called ‘the green conspiracy’.

What followed was what the singers called ‘the Hour of the Snake’, though it may be more accurate to call it the Hour of the Ravens. Daemon had ravens sent forth to his allies in the city, demanding information on any plots to dethrone the rightful heir. Other ravens were also sent in secret, warning Alicent Hightower’s allies that their plans were now dead in the water. By whom, history does not know. Some say it was Otto Hightower in an attempt to destroy the evidence of the green conspiracy. Others blame minor members of House Velaryon who believed the rumours that Ser Laenor’s children were bastards and wanted to warn potential allies.

What is most likely, however, is that it was Lord Larys, who had been unwittingly denounced by the Queen as having come by his inheritance by the murder of his father and brother. For, on that night, though none had seen him close to the centre of the tragedy, he vanished without trace. All attempts to discover him failed. 

However, Daemon’s efforts were not fruitless. He discovered substantial evidence of the green conspiracy and a number of lords willing to turn against Alicent Hightower in exchange for keeping their heads. Some lords, like Ser Tyland Lannister and Lord Jasper Wylde, received word of the tragedy and escaped the city before the King returned. They, however, were not careful in their escape as Lord Larys. Both were caught on the road and brought back to the capital to face justice.

The trials lasted for months. The King partook in none of them, claiming ill health and a wish to be left alone with his grief. Lord Jasper Wylde was defiant to the end, claiming that a son always came before a daughter and that Prince Aemond should be King if he did not present as an omega. Lord Jasper was one of the first to be executed.

Multiple witnesses all confirmed that Queen Alicent had been gathering allies to her cause to seat her son on the throne. The most dramatic testimony, however, came from the former Prince Aegon. He entered the throne room, wearing a fine scarlet gown fit for a lady in waiting. That gown and his unconcealed omega scent quashed all the half-formed rumours that his presentation had been a lie to discredit him as heir. At the trial, Alicent screamed at him not to betray her. For that, she was gagged and dragged from the room.

Aegon, with head bent and voice low, confessed that his mother had told him that he was a challenge to Rhaenyra simply by living and breathing and that everyone in the realm knew that he would be their King. When her treasonous words were revealed by her own son, Alicent knew her case was lost. It is said that, when she was told what Aegon had said, she buried her face in her hands and refused to say a word more in her defence.

Or, she may have been preparing for her punishment. Her father was hanged, drawn and quartered with his parts mounted atop the Red Keep’s gate while she watched. Straight after that, the former Queen was sent to join the silent sisters.

As for her children, they were scattered throughout the realm to be housed by loyal families. Their dragons were chained permanently in the Dragonpit, save for Vhagar who was chained outside the city with coils as thick as a small boat. They were stripped of their father’s name and their titles of prince and princess. Now, they would be known by bastard names. Aegon became a ward of House Arryn and became Aegon Stone. Helaena became Helaena Snow when she was taken in by House Stark. Alicent’s youngest, Daeron, was forced out of Oldtown and became Daeron Waters, living with an associate of Lord Corlys in Spicetown known as Marilda of Hull. At first, it was suggested that he live at High Tide but Princess Rhaenys refused point-blank to accept any child of Alicent Hightower under her roof. She had not forgotten Alicent’s snide words directed at Ser Laenor nor the fact that she murdered Rhaenyra in the Hall of Nine. As for Aemond, who started the trouble, he became Aemond Rivers and a ward of House Blackwood.

House Hightower, itself, denied any part in the green conspiracy. Lord Corlys and Prince Daemon, however, were not convinced. They demanded that a hostage be sent to the Red Keep in the form of Garmund Hightower, Lord Hightower's third son, and made it clear that no other member of House Hightower would be welcome at court while they and Rhaenyra’s sons lived.

There was but one bright moment in what would be called the Year of the Red Spring. A moon’s turn after the death of Princess Rhaenyra, her dragon, Syrax, bent her neck to Lady Rhaena Targaryen…

#

…If Alicent’s remaining allies hoped to place one of her younger sons on the throne, they were sorely disappointed. One by one, each of them presented as an omega. It is said that Daemon laughed every time one of them presented.

Aegon was quickly married to a bastard of House Royce of the Gates of the Moon, Hubert Stone. Hubert was a man of more than forty years and was said to be a fearsome warrior in is youth. However, he had grown stout in his later years and is said to have enjoyed partaking in wine and too much good food. These habits proved deadly for, on the night of his wedding, his heart burst and he dropped dead.

It became clear, however, that he had managed to consummate his marriage before his demise. Aegon Stone grew great with child and gave birth to twins, whom he named Jaehaerys and Jaehaera. That did not please the Prince nor did it please the Hand. They had even greater reason to be displeased later when a rebellion led by Ser Reynard Hill, a bastard son of Lord Reyne who had served as a falconer at the Vale and who was known by his followers as Fireheart for his fiery nature.

The rebellion aimed to name Aegon’s as-yet unpresented children as heirs and depose Rhaenyra’s sons. He gained support in the Westerlands and in some parts of the Reach. but it burned to ashes under the power of Caraxes and Meleys. Ser Reynard, it is said, faced dragonflame with great courage and screamed Aegon’s name before he died.

Daemon petitioned the Hand to have Aegon and his children put to death to prevent further rebellions. Lady Jeyne Arryn, however, interceded on her ward’s behalf and argued that the former prince should not be punished for something he had no knowledge of and certainly had no wish for. She spoke eloquently and claimed that the prince only wished for a quiet life in the Eyrie with his children who, she said, were the light of his life. In a rare appearance at court, the sickly king sided with Lady Arryn and let his disowned son and grandchildren live.

Four years after the birth of Aegon’s twins, Helaena Snow gave birth to a son, Maelor. Helaena, though she and her brothers had been forbidden from writing to each other, seemed to know she may find herself the unwitting puppet of a rebellion. So, she begged Lord Cregan Stark to hide her pregnancy and then her child from common knowledge. Therefore, for many years, the birth of her son was known only to the small council and Lord Stark.

The fear of rebellion around Alicent’s children, however, could not be so easily hidden away. Lord Corlys had the planned marriage between Daeron and one of Marilda’s bastard sons broken off and made plans to have him join the Faith.

Aemond, as before, proved to the bigger problem. He was very late in presenting, which the maesters put down to the trauma of losing an eye, his status and his family in one fell swoop. At last, at age eight-and-ten, he presented as an omega. After the failed rebellion, Lord Corlys commanded that he too should join the Faith to atone for his part in Rhaenyra’s death. Daemon is reported to have suggested sending him to the silent sisters like his mother but Lord Corlys refused this. Lord Blackwood spoke up for Aemond, claiming he was at no risk of getting with child for he had rejected all suitors his lordship put before him and he was not well liked enough among the household to attract support for a rebellion.

“Very well.” Daemon had said, “Let him die old and shrivelled.”

As for Rhaenyra’s sons, Jacaerys, who had presented as an alpha before the death of his mother, came back to King’s Landing with his grandsire and uncle. There, he would serve as Daemon’s cupbearer and learn the art of kingship. In time, he earned a place on the small council as Master of Laws and married his cousin, Lady Baela Targaryen.

Joffrey would accompany his brother to the Red Keep upon his presentation as an alpha at age ten.

Lucerys remained at Driftmark with his father. Ser Laenor fulfilled the duties of Lord of the Tides in place of his father and attempted to teach Lucerys these duties too. However, the prince could very easily persuade his father to let him dispense with his work so he was more likely to be seen flying over Driftmark on his dragon, Arrax, than holding court at High Tide.

Unlike his brothers, he was very late in presenting. There were fears that he would present as an omega and throw the succession of House Velaryon into confusion. However, they were all put to rest when he presented as an alpha the day before his eighteenth name day.

It was decided that, to celebrate the prince’s presentation and to quickly decide on his bride, a great tourney should be held at King’s Landing. Worthy lords and knights were invited to compete and put forth a maiden or an omega male of their house for consideration as Lucerys’ bride. The winner’s lady or omega would be seated at the prince’s side at the banquet afterwards and it would strongly suggested that she would be betrothed to him before the feast’s end.

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

The late summer day had made the wheelhouse hot and sticky. When it finally stopped, Luke rushed to open the door and get some fresh air. Once he did, however, he found what looked like half the court squashed into the Red Keep’s courtyard to greet him, Laenor, Rhaenys and Rhaena.

Jace stood at the head with Daemon on his left and Corlys on his right. A plain gold circlet sat on Jace’s long dark curls and he had a regally happy expression on his face.

“Welcome to the Red Keep, brother. It warms my heart to see you looking so well.”

It was a polite way of saying Jace was glad Luke’s presentation hadn’t destroyed him.

Luke answered as he usually did with the petitioners at Driftmark - with as much courtly courtesy as Jace, not hugging his family for a second too long and not smiling too much.

Only when they were in the solar did Luke finally feel he could throw his arms around Jace properly and squeeze him tight.

“Gods, I am so glad that’s over! The carriage ride through the city nearly made me sick and the crosswinds over the Narrow Sea nearly blew me and Arrax into the water!”

“Well, that would have been a disaster.” Jace laughed but in a way that didn’t reach his eyes. He was still acting as the Crown Prince but why? No one was watching but their family. There was no reason to step away awkwardly as if Luke had committed a massive faux pas before the court. Or, as if Jace had forgotten how they had embraced and spoken freely as children.

“Would you like to look over the lists of tourney knights before the morrow, my Prince?” Lord Corlys asked, picking up a sheaf of papers from a table, “It’ll give you a flavour of what to expect.”

It would have been nice to have been consulted about who was coming beforehand. Luke thought, biting his tongue to stop the irritation coming out.

“Lord Ormund Hightower tried to enter his second son as a champion for his daughter.” Daemon gave a nasty laugh, “That served as a good lesson for Jace in the most polite way to tell someone to shove it up their arse.”

The cupbearer laughed along too. Luke had to look hard at his face before he realised why those short hazelnut-brown curls and large eyes looked familiar. It must be Garmund Hightower. Luke had thought it was odd when he’d heard Daemon had made the boy his cupbearer. He had expected Garmund to be forced to be a scullion for the rest of his life. Yet, when he looked at Garmund, he didn’t see anything of Alicent or Otto. Instead, he saw much more of Daemon in the way he laughed and sneered at the word ‘Hightower’.

House Hightower was not on the list but Luke found practically every other powerful house represented there. It made him feel a little dizzy to think about it. When that dizziness faded, however, Luke noticed something they had in common.

“These are all youngbloods.” He told his father later that day when they were alone, “Not one knight over two and twenty here. Half of them probably never fought in a tourney before.”

“And why do you think my father wants Daemon to be the oldest and most seasoned knight in the list?” Laenor asked.

As was the custom with their conversations, Luke had to pick the answer out of the mist himself.

“To…make sure he wins?”

Laenor gave a nod, “Your betrothal to Rhaena is a foregone conclusion. Your mothers talked about it often in their letters…before…”

Luke clutched the couch cushion with his free hand until the pain of the memory passed.

“And he no doubt wants to show the older lords that Daemon’s still top alpha,” Laenor went on, “so they’d better not think about any more rebellions.”

“Is this what being an alpha is? Constant posturing?” Luke asked.

Laenor shrugged in the face of Luke’s annoyance, “It’s either that or constant fighting.” He sat down next to Luke on the couch, “But it’s also about keeping the peace in the pack. So, you should talk to some of these knights and lords. Make friends, forge alliances, soothe bruised egos after Daemon knocks them down and show everyone you’re worthy of all this fuss. That’ll be what stops future rebellions. 

“Oh, don’t look so glum, Luke. Your betrothal is too important to leave to chance and this is the best way we can turn the other lords down without slighting them. Most lords with half a brain know this. They won’t be offended if they lose. They’ll just be grateful for the opportunity to meet you.”

Luke didn’t feel at all placated. He didn’t feel worthy of half this fuss. He wished it had just been a straightforward betrothal and wedding like Jace and Baela. It had been grand, to be sure, but there had been no question that Baela would be his bride. There was no need for any of this farcical competition.

He turned back to the papers. He reached the final two and found their pages were almost blank.

“The Brindled Fool and the Sapphire Knight. Two mystery knights? Why would Grandsire allow two mystery knights into the tourney if he wants to show off to the realm?”

“Just for the fun of it.” Laenor shrugged, “Or, to rub it into his enemies’ faces that they are not welcome. Besides, we know who one of them is. The Brindled Fool is Ser Ewan of House Strong.”

“Why is he coming as a mystery knight?”

“Well…” Laenor pulled an uncomfortable face, “…we didn’t think it would look good if a Strong competed openly. With the Clubfoot still on the loose, you know. So, this is a good compromise. He’ll probably go out in the first round anyway.”

Luke knew that was a lie. House Strong had been exonerated of the green conspiracy years ago and Lady Henrietta had been named the de-facto head of the House. There was no reason for them to be excluded. Apart from the reason obvious in Luke’s pale face, dark hair and brown eyes.

“And, what about the Sapphire Knight?”

“I heard a rumour that he’s from Tarth, hence the nickname. Apart from that, I honestly don’t know but House Tarth is our staunch ally and there’s no one in their household who’s a match for Daemon anyway so he’s not worried.”

#

The morrow dawned bright and clear. But, by the time the trumpets blared to call the knights to the lists, Luke felt ready to torch the lot of it with Arrax. So too, apparently, was Daemon.

“I don’t like knocking children around.” He groused during a breakfast of cold meat and boiled eggs, “That’s what cowards and schemers do.”

“Children all grow up and some might grow stronger than you in time.” Corlys pointed out, “Best if you put the fear in them when they’re young so they don’t go getting ideas later.”

“Rebellions can apparently sprout up because of babes these days.” Luke quipped, “You’ll be making Daemon fight them in the next tourney, I suppose, if you could only get them to stay in the saddle.”

“Enough, Lucerys.” Corlys snapped, “You’re being ridiculous.”

Daemon caught Luke’s eye and gave him a smile and a wink, “Well, I suppose I’d better get ready to face the babes. Do you want to come with me, Luke? To see how green they are?”

Luke gratefully stood and followed him out of the room, away from his disapproving grandsire.

“Has anyone ever told you how like your mother you are?”

Luke felt both a rush of pleasure and a stab of pain.

“Your mother would have seen this for the farce it is. Her father made her go on a tour around the kingdoms under the pretence of choosing a husband but he still made the choice for her in the end. And, this whole absurdity is worse for you than for me. I may be forced to knock around children but you have to put up with a cattle show of maidens afterwards.”

Luke swore under his breath, “Can’t I just elope with Rhaena now and save us all this ridiculous pageant?”

Daemon laughed, “I think you’d have to persuade Rhaena first. She’s developed a fancy for one of the knights of the Vale who came with Lady Arryn.”

“Good for her.” Luke said, truthfully.

Daemon switched to High Valyrian, “And, the knight in question has dark hair and eyes. So, any child she might get with him won’t have any rumours following them everywhere. You’re free to let Rhaena pursue happiness. Like your mother did.”

Luke glared at him but Daemon withstood it. Luke knew his mother’s uncle meant nothing by it other than to point out what a convenient arrangement it was but he still felt a hot prickling sensation of the thought of children coming out without silver hair.

“So, what about you?” Daemon went on, “Any omega catch your eye?”

“No. Only two male omegas have been put forward and I didn’t get on with either of them at last night’s banquet. One has a lover at home and only came because his father made him. The other only talked about horses all night long. I didn’t even know you could talk about saddles for an hour.” Luke sighed, “Grandsire knows my preference. Why did he have to put so many women in the running?”

Daemon shrugged, “Just a meagre crop this generation, I suppose. I’ve certainly noticed fewer male omegas at court of late.”

Luke thought but decided it was politic not to say that it was partly Daemon’s fault. The rebellions around Alicent’s children and their children had soured the already suspicious view the people had of male omegas in general. Whenever he heard of a noble son presenting as an omega, it was usually accompanied by the phrase, ‘and they’re being sent to join the Faith’. The two omega sons who came to the tourney were the only children of their family line. So, their fathers had no choice but to present them at court and hope they would catch the eye of an alpha who could give them a suitable heir before the current lord died.

A city of pavilions in every colour spread out around the tourney lists with squires, knights, lords, servants, maidens and less reputable women hurrying to and fro. Luke could see the raised royal box decorated half in black and red and half in blue and silver. The three headed dragon and the seahorse flew side by side on flags blowing in a perfectly angled breeze.

Right away, Luke spotted the horse-obsessed omega of House Tyrell talking with his champion on the main thoroughfare.

“Not that way.” He muttered to Daemon.

Obligingly, Daemon turned and took him down a narrower path through the tents, mostly used by the squires and nearer to the rubbish heap. At the entrance, they found a small, faded and heavily patched blue tent. The horse in front looked decent enough but her bridle and saddle looked frayed in places and bore no sigil or any embellishment. The shield resting on the ground was plain black with a sapphire blue jewel painted in the centre.

Luke’s suspicions were confirmed when the tent flap opened and a tall knight in full armour, a closed visor and a sapphire blue cloak emerged. By the lack of scent and bulk, Luke knew him to be a beta.

“Good morrow, ser.” Daemon said, making the knight jump, “You are the Sapphire Knight, I take it?”

The knight recovered himself quickly and bowed to both Daemon and Luke in turn, “Yes, if it please you, my prince.”

He had a refined accent that Luke couldn’t place. For a moment, Daemon didn’t respond. His eyes moved around the knight, taking in his thin frame and mismatched armour.

“Well, I won’t spoil the fun and ask who you are but I want to know if you have any experience with tourneys.”

“None, my Prince. This is my first time but I have long practiced with the lance and sword.”

“And that’s more than half of these knights can say. Have you a maiden to present to the prince?”

“A male omega, my Prince, but his ship been delayed by bad weather last I heard. He may not arrive until tomorrow.”

Daemon gave Luke a quick smile. Luke felt his heart give a leap. That was already a point in the Sapphire Knight’s favour.

“Is this omega obsessed with horses?” Luke asked because he couldn’t help it.

Daemon chuckled and, though Luke could not see his eyes through the visor’s slit, Luke felt the knight’s puzzlement.

“No, my Prince.”

“Then, I shall look forward to meeting him.”

That’s another point in his favour.

Daemon glanced around, “Have you no squire, Ser?”

“No, my Prince. I can tend to my armour and horse well enough myself.”

Daemon gave an approving nod, “Very well. I wish you luck, Sapphire Knight. And, if we happen to cross lances, do me the courtesy of putting up a good fight. I know I won’t get it from anyone else.”

The Sapphire Knight agreed with another bow and Daemon led Luke on.

“The son of an impoverished knight, I think.” Daemon said once they were out of earshot, “Or a well-off sell-sword. He probably doesn’t have a suitable omega to present but I think he’ll give us a decent show. I also think he’s understating how much experience he has.”

“How do you know?” Luke asked.

“Didn’t you notice? He only has one eye and he’s wearing a scent blocker.” Daemon laughed at Luke’s surprise, “But both are easy to miss. Look at his neck armour next time and you’ll spot it. I think he’s only pretending to be a beta so the other alphas underestimate him.” He smiled, “I like him already.”

“Me too.” Luke said. Maybe, this whole tourney might not be a total farce in the end.

#

Luke had to wait until mid-afternoon for the Sapphire Knight to have his turn. In that time, he saw the Brindled Fool drop his lance and get knocked off his horse by Lord Celtigar’s son. Ser Ewan Strong took being unmasked and eliminated with good humour, however, and Lord Celtigar promised to make his little brother a squire as a sign of good faith.

At last, after a round of predictable wins, the Sapphire Knight stood against Ser Robb, the champion of Lord Borros Baratheon. 

Grandsire did that on purpose. Luke thought, looking the tall and robust-looking Ser Robb up and down with growing dread, He wants the Sapphire Knight to be knocked out quickly like Ser Ewan.

Luke had been ordered not to show any favour to the combatants so he cheered the Sapphire Knight on as hard as he could in his head.

With a last minute shift of his lance, the Sapphire Knight’s lance flew past Ser Robb’s shield. It smashed right into his chest and sent the bigger man tumbling into the dirt. The crowd stood stunned for a moment and then erupted into wild cheering. 

Luke had to bite his lip to stop himself cheering for joy too. Lord Borros had kept calling Luke ‘boy’ the previous night and his daughter, Cassandra, had not stopped asking whether Luke’s future children could ever inherit the throne.

Lord Borros, at that moment, stood up and cursed the Sapphire Knight loudly. He demanded a rematch with a ‘proper knight, not some mummer’. But, no one paid him any heed and he was eventually dragged off by a red-faced and scowling Cassandra. Ser Robb himself had to be carried off the field on a stretcher, still insensible.

And good riddance. Luke thought, I hope they leave before the closing feast.

House Baratheon was not the only one to be bested by the Sapphire Knight. In short order, the knights of Houses Redwyne, Stokeworth, Royce, Bracken and Bolton fell by the Sapphire Knight’s lance or, in the case of Houses Royce and Bracken, his swift and nimble sword.

Soon, the crowd were chanting his name and their cheers grew loud enough to shake the stands beneath them. Even Baela couldn’t help but cheer him on.

One face that did not crack a smile by the time the sun set, however, was Corlys’. With every one of the Sapphire Knight’s victories, his face grew grimmer. By the time the day’s fighting was done, he looked downright murderous.

#

The small army of knights from the morning had been reduced to just four: Daemon, Ser Kermit of House Tully, Ser Medrick of House Manderley and the Sapphire Knight. There was not enough time in the day to wage the last two battles so the final bouts would be waged in the morning.

When they retired to the royal tent to refresh and change for the evening’s festivities, Corlys gave full vent to his fury, “That Sapphire Knight is ruining everything! I had hoped to discuss a trade deal with Lord Borros this evening but, now, he’s threatening to leave! It was all I could do to stop him departing after the first round.”

“Sounds like more of a fault with Lord Borros than the Sapphire Knight.” Luke retorted, “A lord ought to be gracious in defeat, should he not? You ought to have let him go if he’s going to be so petty as that.”

“I never should have let Daemon talk me into letting him into the lists. His place should have been taken by someone else from House Blackwood.”

“That would have been even worse.” Laenor pointed out, “Don’t you remember the last time Blackwoods and Brackens attended a royal event together? It ended with Jerrol Bracken dying on a Blackwood sword!”

“So, why didn’t the Blackwoods come anyway?” Luke asked, suddenly curious, “Seems to me you were determined to bring in every great house in the realm. Surely, it was a slight to let the Brackens come and refuse the Blackwoods.”

“I did invite them.” Corlys snapped, “They pulled out at the last minute. Something about their champion taking ill. Daemon let the Sapphire Knight take their place before I send for another champion from their house. But, one thing is for certain, we cannot allow the Sapphire Knight to compete tomorrow.”

“What?!” Luke dropped his cloak, “But he’s the best knight in the field!”

“This isn’t about who’s the best knight!” Corlys roared, slamming his hands on the table and sending the wine flying, “Tourneys are never about that! That’s just a pack of alphas prancing around to amuse the ladies. Tourneys are about the alliances and deals you do after the fighting! It’s about reminding everyone that we and our allies are the strongest in the realm! If you want to be a successful Lord of the Tides, I suggest you stop being so naive and start paying attention to the things that actually keep the peace!”

Luke clenched his fists and met Corlys’ glower. Even now, a childish part of him felt like bursting into tears and running away under pressure of Corlys’ powerful surge of petrichor pheromones but he pushed it deep down. Even if he couldn’t think of a thing to say, he would still not let him think he’d won. He raised his own pheromones in challenge. His own scent of cinnamon turned burnt and acrid. Not nearly as strong as the older alpha but enough to make Corlys’ hackles rise.

“Father,” Laenor stepped in between the fizzing air between them, “we can’t kick the Sapphire Knight out now. He’s too popular with the crowd. There’ll be a riot if they hear we forced him out. And, Ser Oscar and Ser Medrick told me they’re looking forward to the chance of fighting him tomorrow. It won’t get deals with them off on the right foot if they’re not given the opportunity.”

When did Father talk to them? Luke wondered. Then, Laenor caught his eye and a lurking suspicion caught him that, perhaps, Laenor had made that up on the spot.

Luke caught on and said, “If Ser Oscar or Ser Medrick don’t beat him, Daemon certainly will. Let him fight and lose with honour.” Then, because he couldn’t help himself, he added, “Gods know someone needs to show them how it’s done.”

Corlys scowled like a storm, “All the same, I’d feel happier if he simply withdrew from the competition tomorrow. If he disappeared overnight and if it could be done in a way where no foul play is suspected, I would be very happy. Ser Harrold, send for Mysaria.”

“Grandsire, no!”

“Luke,” The tidal wave of petrichor rose again, “that’s my final decision.”

Before he could argue, Laenor grabbed Luke, muttered something about an engagement with Lord Royce and tugged him out of the tent.

“Father, this isn’t fair!” Luke protested.

“This is King’s Landing. Nothing is fair here.” Laenor sighed, “Come on, we need to go and visit the lords anyway to make sure they don’t follow Lord Borros.”

A maester had once told Luke that the face found it easier to smile than frown. That night, he realised that maester had been talking utter rubbish. Lord Gunthor Royce strained to keep a polite smile on his face all the while he talked to Luke.

“You had to admire the Sapphire Knight’s sword work. Alas, if only Ser Willam had been wielding Lamentation. He might have given the Sapphire Knight pause.”

Ser Willam looked down and muttered something like ‘too precious for tourneys’.

“Nonsense, lad! Prince Daemon is wielding Dark Sister. You ought to have been showing our Valyrian steel too.”

Luke privately didn’t think Valyrian steel would have served him well. Not when the sword kept slipping out of Ser Willam’s hand like Ser Ewan’s lance.

After ten minutes of enduring Lord Gunthor’s second-hand scolding of Ser Willam, Laenor at last excused them.

“Well, I’m taking this as a learning experience for Ser Willam.” Ser Gunthor said, “If you would take my advice, you should go and visit the Redwynes. Poor Lady Patricia isn’t taking the Redwynes’ elimination well and neither’s Ser Lorcan. Ser Sour Grapes, everyone’s calling him.”

“He could do with some of your good spirit of sportsmanship, Lord Gunthor.” Luke said. Then, when Lord Gunthor turned his back, Luke pulled a face at Ser Willam to show what he really thought of the old lord. It made Ser Willam smile for a moment.

“Please don’t make me go and see the Redwynes.” Luke pleaded, “I was served enough sour grapes in there as it is.”

Laenor sighed, “Alright, if you want to be useful, I’d go and visit the Sapphire Knight and tell him to go home. Now, don’t give me that look. I know it’s not fair but I know you’ll be kinder about it than Lady Misery’s men.”

As much as he hated it, Luke saw he had a point. So, Laenor moved off to the Redwyne tent and Luke went to the edge of the camp.

When he got there, however, he found an empty space where the Sapphire Knight’s tent had been.

Fuck! I’m too late!

He stopped a passing squire and demanded to know where he was.

“Took down his tent and left about five minutes ago, my Prince. Went that way towards the river, saying he needed a bath before his journey home. Crying shame if you ask me, my Prince. I was looking forward to seeing him fight on the morrow.”

Luke tossed the boy a coin and hurried towards the river. When he got to the banks, however, he found dozens of knights, squires and a few whores splashing around and playing games in the shallows.

There’s no way he’d come here with so many eyes around. He’d go somewhere more private.

Luke made his way upriver, going past the city of tents and towards the edge of the Kingswood. He delved into the trees and, a few steps later, the most delicious smell wafted over to him. Lavender and honey with a little hint of smoke to cut through the sweetness.

An omega? What’s an omega doing here?

He slowed and crept through the trees towards the scent. At last, he found a little inlet shadowed by a large oak with a lantern hanging on a low branch. There, he found someone crouching over the inlet, wringing out a damp cloak. A breeze blew in Luke’s face, bringing that gorgeous smell again.

It’s him. He’s a male omega. So, that's why he was wearing the suppressor!

A moment later, the omega straightened and pushed long silver-blond hair back over his shoulders. He reached up to the oak and picked something from one of the branches. Luke thought it a hair ribbon at first. But, then, the omega moved it over his head and turned it until a circular patch sat over one eye.

The omega reached up and plucked the lantern off the tree. He paused, heaved a deep, regretful sigh and turned to take his horse’s reins.

Luke gasped. The other man jumped, swore and whirled around. He tried to hide his face but it was too late. Luke had seen.

“Aemond?” Luke darted out to stop the taller omega mounting his horse. Luke moved around him and, through tricky manoeuvres, at last got another good look at the omega’s face and his sole violet eye, “Aemond! It is you!”

There could be no denying it and Aemond knew it. Aemond swallowed hard, seeming to expect a blow or a shout for guards.

Luke couldn’t contain himself. He threw his arms around Aemond and hugged him hard enough to almost pull him off his feet, “Aemond! I can’t believe it! You’re really here! And you were the Sapphire Knight all along!” The words tumbled out in an enthusiastic flood. Aemond was left unable to get a word in and almost unable to breathe.

When Luke at last pulled back, he couldn’t help but stare at Aemond’s face, “You’re here right under Grandsire’s nose! And you look…you look incredible!”

Aemond’s mouth quirked up, “You flatter me, Lu-my Prince.”

“Oh, don’t call me that. We’re family. And, you…you deserve to call me much worse than that.” At last, Luke felt his delight dim and he looked down, “If it wasn’t for you, you wouldn’t have to hide as a mystery knight.”

Maybe, he’d been too forward. Aemond probably hated him. Maybe, he would want one of Luke’s eyes in return for the eye he’d lost.

“If I was here as myself,” Aemond said, “I’d be stuck in the stands, handing out favours to the idiots on the lists. Or stuck on the arm of a husband old enough to be my father. So, I would still need to be a mystery knight to compete.”

The pair of them laughed without knowing what they were laughing at. Like that, Luke felt some of the tension fall away.

“But, how did you get so good at tourneys?” Luke asked, “Did they let you practice at Raventree? Grandsire would have a fit if he knew!” Luke burst out laughing again.

“Alysanne Blackwood let me train with her. I think she just wanted someone to spar with at first. When it looked like I might be a beta, she said that they would likely send me to the Wall if they could and she wanted to send me away with a fighting chance against the Others. But, when I presented as an omega, she carried on training with me.”

“And, what did Lord Blackwood think of that?”

“He didn’t encourage me but he didn’t try to stop me either. Sometimes, he would pit me against his son in mock tourneys, trying to embarrass him into trying harder. Sadly, all that achieved was making me better than Samwell ever could be. Even little Ben - that's Samwell's son - agrees.”

Luke grinned, taking Aemond in like the wonder he was, “Oh, but this is incredible. You, an omega, beating alphas left and right! Ser Sour Grapes would be sick as a pig! And, the Brackens! If they knew an omega trained by Blackwoods beat them, Ser Amos would probably have an apoplexy on the spot!” 

Aemond smiled, “That’s one of the reasons Alysanne agreed to this. She knows her brother couldn’t beat the Bracken champion but I would have no problem.”

Luke couldn’t help but throw his arms around Aemond again, “I think this might be the best nameday present I’ve ever had!”

Aemond froze for a moment and, then, awkwardly returned the embrace, “I - I am glad that you are so happy to see me. And, I am glad of the opportunity to fight.” Then, he took Luke’s shoulders and pushed him back, “But, I must go now.”

“What?” Luke blinked as if someone had thrown icy water over him, “But, why? You’re in the final four! You can’t leave now!”

“That is exactly why I should leave. I have done what I set out to do. I have proved to myself that I can fight as well as any alpha. I can take that knowledge and the memories with me when I go to take my vows at the motherhouse next week.”

Luke could only blink, dazed and unable to speak for a moment, “The - the motherhouse? But, Daemon said he didn’t mind if you stayed at Raventree Hall.”

“Lord Blackwood decided to send me anyway. Perhaps, he’s worried that word will get back to King’s Landing about my prowess with sword and lance. Or, he just wants to curry favour with Daemon in the hopes of marrying Alysanne to Prince Joffrey in the future. Either way, he will not be moved on the subject. Believe me, Aly and I tried.”

Aemond turned with a resigned sigh, set his sapphire shield against the tree and moved to mount his horse.

“No!” Luke at last grabbed his wrist, “No, you can’t go! You’re better than all of them. You’re better than Daemon. You could win!”

It was Aemond’s turn to be struck dumb, “You…you think I could win?”

“Yes! In fact, I want you to win. This whole tourney’s a total farce anyway. Rhaena’s always going to be my betrothed no matter what happens and Grandsire only put this on to get trade deals out of it. No one gives a fuck about what I want and it’s supposed to be my nameday.”

He realised as he said out loud how petty and childish that sounded so he hastily added, “And, you’re the best thing that’s happened during this whole affair. You, going out there and showing what an omega can do. Showing they’re meant for more than pushing out heirs and being shut up in motherhouses. If you win…” Luke searched for the right words for a moment, “…it would make things better for all omegas, not just the male ones. And, I would love that.”

What he wanted to say was that would love to see omegas treated better than they had been since Aemond and his siblings were exiled on his account. And since the realm saw that as permission to see all male omegas as untrustworthy and unworthy.

A smile crept over Aemond’s face like the dawn. The beauty of it almost took Luke’s breath away, “Well, since it’s your nameday, my prin - Luke, I will stay. But, I think I will have to make camp here for the night. I’ve heard Lord Corlys’ men are trying to make me pull out before tomorrow.”

Luke nodded and then he gasped, “I have a better idea. Why don’t you hide in my tent? Grandsire and Lady Misery will never look there.”

“And, how are you going to get me there without being seen? Your tent is right in the heart of the tourney and there will be the Hand’s soldiers everywhere.”

Luke thought this over, turning over possibilities in his mind, “I think…I think I have an idea…but you might not like it.”

Indeed, Aemond scowled at the idea when Luke suggested it but he had to concede he couldn’t think of anything better. When Luke fetched all the necessary supplies from the camp and returned, Aemond did not look any happier about it. He picked up the pink dress sneaked out of Rhaena’s trunk and cast a critical eye over it.

“I think it’ll be about your size. If you wear the cloak, no one will see your face or hair. They’ll think you’re a lady I invited back to warm my bed. No one knows your scent so, if you stuff your chest with this scarf, everyone will think you’re an omega woman.”

Aemond looked at the scarf and smirked, “You have no idea what breasts are supposed to look like, do you? Oh well, it’ll pass. So long as I stay in shadow.” He grunted as he looked at the sleeve and he muttered, “This hem’s starting to fray. If she doesn’t catch it now, the cuff will come loose.” He caught Luke’s eye and went red, “It’s just…Lady Blackwood forced me to learn sewing when I presented as an omega.”

Luke’s eye wandered to the embroidered tabbard and cloak, “Did you make those too?”

“Yes. And, some of the chainmail too. I had to. I knew Lord Blackwood would notice if anything went missing from the armoury. Aly bought me the rest.”

“Aly sounds brilliant. And, you’re certainly the only knight on the field who made their own clothes. That’s brilliant too. Come on. Get changed, quickly.”

So, with Aemond disguised by the dress and the horse disguised with a Velaryon caparison, they slipped into the camp. They sneaked past the royal soldiers (and a drunken Ser Amos Bracken spectacularly vomiting onto one of their tabards) and into Luke’s empty tent.

“Phew,” Luke sighed as Aemond went behind the screen to change agaim, “that was lucky. Good thing Ser Amos was sick when he was. That was a good distraction.”

“Speaking of distracting,” Aemond said as he emerged from behind the screen, “I don’t suppose you have any sewing supplies, do you? This hem is starting to annoy me and it would make up for me stealing this dress. I have my own sewing kit but I don’t think I have the right colour thread.”

“Uh, I don’t think so but I could always have some sent for you.”

Then, a cry came from the tent mouth and Luke’s heart stopped. Rhaena stood at the tent entrance, mouth hanging open and staring at Aemond, who seemed to have been turned to stone by her look.

“Is that my dress? And, are you - ?”

Luke thrust out his hands, “Rhaena, don’t call the guards. I can explain!”

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

“This is madness.” Was Rhaena’s verdict on hearing it all, “Even by your standards, Luke, this is utter madness.”

“It’s not. Aemond’s better than all of them!”

“Do you really think that, if Aemond wins, Father and Grandsire will forget who he is? They’ll more likely throw him in a black cell the moment he’s revealed. And, then, they’ll take it out on his siblings too. You know what happened to Daeron after the last rebellion. If you really want things to be better for omegas, you’ll let Aemond disappear back to Raventree. Leave the shield and armour with his omega smell on it, by all means, but don’t let anyone know which omega the Sapphire Knight is.”

“Things can’t stay the way they are, Rhaena. And, things are only getting worse for omegas too. Mother wouldn’t want that and this could start to turn the tide in their favour.”

“I don’t think your mother would want her brother executed in front of the whole realm for winning a tourney he wasn’t supposed to win. Or even compete in.”

“He won’t be executed!” Luke said, tried to talk faster than that impartial part of his brain could work, “I won’t let them. Besides, if Daemon does anything, it’ll make Aemond a martyr and it might start another rebellion. He knows that.”

“And, what if he doesn’t win? What if Father defeats him and kills him on the tourney grounds without meaning to? How do you think that’ll look to the rebels?”

His scent rose and grew more intense with every word. So did Rhaena’s alpha scent of pine and rain.

“I don’t suppose you want to hear my view on this.” Aemond broke through the argument with a sardonic look on his face.

Until now, Aemond just kept his head bent over his sewing, blocking out the argument as he worked on the frayed sleeve. For a moment, Luke had forgotten he was there and felt instantly embarrassed for it.

I’m being a stupid alpha again! I’m supposed to be better than this.

“While I agree that Lady Rhaena’s view of what will happen if I reveal myself is more accurate than yours, I feel it’s a risk I’m willing to take. I am destined to be imprisoned all my life and I’d rather take a black cell and Dark Sister over wearing my knees out in prayer at a motherhouse. If you are all so afraid of rebels, it seems that those rebels will need very little urging to rise up. If not my fate, then something else will trigger them.”

He snipped the last thread on Rhaena’s dress, laid it over his arm and held it out for her.

“There, it should be enough to stop it fraying again.”

Rhaena took the dress and cast an eye over the stitching. Luke, for his part, couldn’t see where Aemond had made the repair. The work looked as fine as if it were new. Rhaena’s suspicion softened a little, “That’s good work. Thank you, cousin.” She looked between the two of them, seeming to be doing some hard thinking.

“Please, Rhaena, don’t tell anyone.” Luke begged, “Remember that I never told Daemon about your liaison with Ser Corwyn six months ago. He still thinks you only just met today.”

Rhaena fixed him with a sharp look. Then, she rolled her eyes, “Oh, alright, I’ll keep this secret.” She turned to leave but paused to point a finger at both of them one last time, “But, don’t say I didn’t warn you when it all goes wrong tomorrow.”

With that, she rearranged the dress in her arms and took her leave.

Luke sagged forward a little with relief, “Thanks the gods for that!”

“Who is Ser Corwyn?” Aemond asked, “I thought Rhaena was going to be betrothed to you.”

“Well, that doesn’t mean I shouldn’t let her follow her heart. The betrothal is just a political arrangement. Rhaena’s more like a sister to me. I can’t love her like a wife. I don’t like female omegas, for a start.”

Aemond raised both eyebrows, “You prefer male omegas?”

The moment he said it, it hit Luke just how striking Aemond was. He didn’t have the usual small stature and delicate frame of an omega but his face was so finely shaped and his body…

Luke felt his face boiling. He quickly looked away. He just had to hope Aemond hadn’t noticed his pause as he mumbled, “Yes. Yes, I do.”

Aemond merely nodded, “Well, if Lord Corlys wanted to persuade you this wasn’t a farce, he really should have made an effort to have the candidates pick male omegas. There are only two as far as I can see and neither have much to recommend them.”

“Tell me about it.” Luke groaned.

From outside, he heard the bells tolling the hour, “Damn it, I forgot. Father said he’d come around so we could go carousing with the other knights. Do you mind if I turn in now? I’ll tell the guards I’m not feeling well and decided to get an early night.”

“Not at all. I will need a good night’s sleep if I am to win the tourney tomorrow anyway.”

Luke grinned at him, “You will, I know it. You take my bed, I don’t mind sleeping on the couch here.”

“Nonsense. I’ve imposed on you enough as it is.”

“It’s not imposing. I’m happy you’re here. Go on. What kind of alpha would I be if I didn’t give my bed to an omega in distress?”

Aemond gave a half-scowl at Luke’s exaggerated chivalry, “A foolish one with a heart too soft for its own good.”

In the end, Aemond was prevailed on to take the bed but only on the condition that Like take one of the blankets rather than simply sleep under his cloak.

He’s sharper of tongue than most omegas. And, stronger and smarter too. And, so good-looking.

Luke pressed his hands to his face and swallowed a groan. He could almost hear Rhaena’s words ringing in his ears: ‘this is madness’.

#

AEMOND

The bed was soft and comfortable with a goose-down mattress and thick furs. It would have been most agreeable and better than Aemond had known for ten years. If only Luke’s scent were not all over it. His strong cinnamon scent filled his nose no matter which way he turned. Warm, welcoming and utterly distracting.

Rhaena’s right - this is madness. He thought, I have gone this long without having my head turned. Why should I be so drawn to an alpha now?

Luke had not been at all what he had expected. In the stands, he had been as restrained and dignified as his brother, the picture of a prince in ways Aegon had never been.

Now, in private, he was animated, informal and had a boundless capacity for cheerfulness.

He’s a bit of a spoiled brat too. He reminded himself, His head’s half-stuck in fairytales of valour and glory.

And, yet, gods help him, Aemond managed to get pulled along into his fantasy. The thought of the crowds seeing him, an omega, capable of throwing down any alpha, perhaps cheering his name, demanding that he have the taint of bastardy removed -

He halted those thoughts before they could go any further. As Rhaena said, he would more likely be locked in the black cells.

But, it would be worth it if I could win.

He never slept deeply. So, when Luke began to moan in his sleep, Aemond awoke at once. He slipped out of bed and pushed aside the curtain. There, he saw Luke curled up tight under the furs as if sheltering from blows.

Then, he gave a little sharp cry. Aemond shrank back into the shadows - but no guards came. Luke cried out again. Still no reaction.

What are they playing at?

Aemond could no longer stand by. He approached Luke and gave him a shake. Luke started awake at once. Even in the dark, Aemond could see tears shining in his eyes.

“What is it?” Aemond muttered, “Are you unwell in truth?”

“No. No, it was just a nightmare. I’m sorry I woke you. Go back to bed. Ignore me.”

It was like Luke had woken as a different person. Gone was the unabashed cheerfulness. Now, he looked ready to hide in a hole for shame and pain.

“What were you dreaming of?” Aemond asked.

“It’s nothing. Really.” Luke sat up and hastily wiped his eyes, “I’ll be fine in a minute. Go back to sleep.”

His scent said otherwise. He hadn’t learned how to regulate it yet and soured cinnamon stung Aemond’s nose.

“I’m not going to get any sleep when I can’t breathe.” Aemond sat on the edge of the couch and tugged Luke’s head into the crook of Aemond’s neck.

“What are you doing?” Luke gasped.

“Trying to comfort you, you dolt. Now, breathe in my scent. It’ll calm you down and stop you choking everyone within a mile of you.”

Luke paused for a moment then did as he was told. Breath by breath, Luke’s scent mellowed. It still stank of burning but Aemond could breathe again.

“I ask again, what were you dreaming of?”

Luke stayed silent for a long moment. Then, he mumbled, “That night at Driftmark. When you lost your eye…and Mother died.”

Aemond took a deep breath. He had known he would see reminders of that night everywhere. So, it looked like he would have to talk about it too.

Just another training exercise. He told himself, You’ve prepared yourself for it by talking with Samwell and you’ll be the stronger for it.

Luke sniffled, “I should have given the queen my eye.”

Aemond had certainly not prepared for something like that.

“Then, the debt would be paid and you wouldn’t be called a bastard. It wasn’t fair. You and your siblings robbed of your family name and me with a family name I don’t deserve.”

Ten years ago, Aemond might have been delighted to hear this. He might have drawn his dagger and told Luke to make good on his words.

Now, as a grown man with all of Samwell’s counsel in his mind, all he could do was sigh, “You imbecile. Giving Mother your eye wouldn’t have solved anything. More likely, it would have made things worse. Think about it rationally for just a minute. Lord Corlys would have called it a declaration of war against House Velaryon. Your mother would call it a declaration of war against her. I daresay it would come to an actual war knowing Daemon. A war where all of us might have ended up dead and the question of bastardy is meaningless.”

Luke gave a great sniff, “I…I suppose you’re right. But - but it was so unfair.”

“So you said. Words are wind and saying something is unfair does not change things.”

He could almost hear Samwell’s words in his head as she told him as much years ago, Saying something is unfair doesn’t change things. I told Father it’s unfair that he makes me learn the ways of the sword when we all know my one-and-ten year old son can beat me with one hand tied behind my back and Aly can best me with both hands tied behind her back.  I told him that until I was blue in the face but it didn’t change a thing.

“I will still be called a bastard when all this is over. I will still be missing an eye too. The only thing I have any control over is whether I win or lose. That is what you ought to be concerning yourself about. Speaking of which,” Aemond added on a sudden thought, “is there anything I should know of Daemon’s tactics? I watched his bouts and know his usual approach to a joust but is there anything I should beware of?”

Luke looked up. His face looked blotchy and his eyes were swollen but he managed to get his voice under control to say, “He - he sometimes likes to trip the horse of the knight he’s fighting. Especially if the knight is winning. I don’t think he’ll do it to you. He respects you but - “

“But I’ll watch out for it. Thank you.”

Aemond heard the faint sound of someone stumbling drunk outside the tent. It occurred to him that this would not be in a good position to be caught in. They may not have been caught so far but what if Luke woke Aemond up again? He knew how persistent nightmares could be.

Only one thing for it.

“Right, come on, let’s get some sleep.”

Aemond stood up and tugged Luke off the couch.

“Wh - what are you doing?”

“Going to bed. And making sure you don’t wake me up again.”

He pulled Luke toward the bed and pushed him down on it, “But - but, it’s not decent - “

“It’s either the motherhouse or the headsman’s block in my near future. The state of my virtue matters little and less to both. Go on, lie down.”

Luke lowered himself down. Aemond lay down beside him and pulled him to lie with his head against Aemond’s chest. Luke made himself comfortable after only a moment of hesitation.

“Aemond, are you sure - “

“No talk. Go to sleep.”

Luke fell silent. Aemond closed his eyes. He let his scent wash over Luke again and, for good measure, started purring. After only a few moments, Luke’s breathing slowed and his scent settled to a pleasant warmth.

Well, good thing I got used to his scent from the bedsheets before. I’d never be able to cope with it now if not for that.

He was surprised his purr worked so well. It usually comforted pups better than grown men.

But, he really is still half a pup. More like Benjicot than Samwell.

Even if that lingering fury from ten years ago burned hot enough to make him act, it would not feel right. It would feel as wrong as kicking little Ben around the yard.

#

LUCERYS

Morning might have broken but Luke didn’t want to leave his bed. He wanted to stay in sheets infused with that lavender and honey scent forever.

Only a poke on the side of the head made him open his eyes. Aemond stood over him in full armour and his helmet tucked under his arm.

Only then did Luke remember what was coming today.

“Oh, seven hells! What time is it? Will you make it to the field?”

“Yes,” Aemond said, looking amused at Luke flailing his arms around for his clothes like a distressed octopus, “we’ll both be on time if you get up now.”

“Where’s my serving man? Did they see you?”

“No one’s here yet. I just wanted - I wanted to stop you panicking and filling the whole camp with your stink because you thought I’d vanished.”

A dusting of pink appeared on Aemond’s cheeks. It looked rather endearing. Luke would never say that to Aemond’s face, though. Just as he wouldn’t say that he knew Aemond was lying about his reasons.

Luke pulled himself out of bed - and found himself not knowing what on earth to say.

“Uh, well, good luck. Gods, I wish I had a favour. I would give it to you.”

That pink appeared again, along with his smirk. Gods, it looked so good on him. Luke could resist it no longer and pressed a quick kiss to Aemond’s cheek.

Aemond blinked in surprise for a moment but the smirk came back again quick enough, “An alpha giving his omega a good luck kiss before his omega goes to battle. Gods, the world’s turned on its head today.”

He pulled on his helmet, extinguishing his scent the moment it fell over his neck. He slipped out under the tent walls at the back. Luke peeped out to watch Aemond take off the horse’s disguise and lead it away toward the field.

He had seen Aemond off with a confident front. As his serving men entered and he dressed for the day however, nerves crept up on him. Ser Kermit was unpredictable on the field. Ser Medrick was clever enough to see through his opponent’s tricks. And, as for Daemon, there was no denying he was still one of the finest warriors in the realm.

Have I just sent Aemond to his death? And for what? Injured pride and ingratitude? Oh, gods, I’m going to be responsible for something dreadful befalling Aemond again -

“Luke, are you alright?” Jace stood at the tent flap, nose twitching, “I could smell your distress from ten yards away.”

Aemond was right. I really do have no control over my scent.

“I’m fine.” Luke squeaked.

I can’t control my voice either. Fuck me.

Jace’s face went from concern to sympathy, “Father told me about the Sapphire Knight. You won’t be the only disappointed at his departure but it’s just as well. I’m sure he’ll re-emerge at another tourney soon enough. Maybe, a smaller one would be more suited to him.”

Luke looked away and picked up his cloak. He felt sure his face would betray his real feelings too.

Jace crossed the room. For a moment, Luke feared Aemond had left something behind. Something damning that would lead straight to him. His heart nearly stopped when Jace leaned over and took a long sniff of the bedsheets.

Luke felt frozen in place as Jace raised his head. Then, he turned to Luke and shocked him with a smile, “Oh, Luke, I see why you’re so nervous. So, who’s the lucky omega?”

Luke felt himself go crimson. He seized a scent-suppressing rabbit fur lined cloak to stop his scent going berserk, “Uh, no one.”

Jace gave a small laugh, “Alright, keep your secrets. Every man has a right to his own private fun.” His smile slipped off and his look turned serious, “Just, make sure you’re discreet and that your omega takes measures to avoid any lasting consequences. Maybe, have those sheets changed before we return to the Keep.”

Luke didn’t like the way Jace said that. He felt a hot creep of shame despite knowing he’d done nothing wrong. He could see the shape of what he was really trying to say behind those words but couldn’t quite make them out.

But he had no time to think about that. Jace ushered him out of the tent and the pair of them made their way to the royal box.

The camp's population seemed to have doubled overnight. It seemed that none of the defeated knights had left. Even Lord Borros had changed his mind and returned, much to Luke’s dismay. More guests with no competing knights had arrived earlier that day for the feasts and entertainments after the tourney. Many smallfolk were trying to find any reason to be close to the lists.

Hawkers with wide trays sold meat pies, skewers, cups of wine and other much less savoury-looking food and drink but others sold strange souvenirs. More than once, they passed a man selling splinters from the lances. Once, they passed a woman who claimed to have a collection of handkerchiefs from all the eligible women and omegas with champions in the ring, “And, still full of their scent, sers!”

At one point, they passed a weaselly-faced man with a tray full of torn blue scraps of cloth and calling, “Cloth scraps from the Sapphire Knight’s tabard! Genuine cloth torn from the Sapphire Knight during his bouts! Sapphire Knight scraps, a penny a piece! Something to show your grandchildren!”

Luke had to fight a laugh. Aemond hadn’t torn his tabbard even once during the bouts. And, if he had torn it enough to produce so many pieces, he would have been forced to fight his next bouts naked.

And, that was a thought he should definitely not entertain with so many people watching him.

Jace kept a determined straight face too. Once they were in the relative privacy of the royal box, he gave Luke a smile, “He’ll regret that by tomorrow. Mysaria has agents looking out for these rogue hawkers. He’ll be shaken down and all his ill-gotten money handed over to the Crown before the day’s out.”

Almost everyone was already there. Including, to Luke’s amazement, King Viserys. His alpha scent had withered with age and infirmity, easily overwhelmed by every other scent around him. His face had to be covered with a golden mask to conceal where it had rotted away and his rich clothes were made as thick as possible to conceal his skeletal frame. He had also been seated near the back at a point where most could see he was there but not see him so clearly as to see how awfully sick he was.

Luke almost expected him to be dead in his chair when Jace approached. However, when Jace bowed and said, “Good morrow, grandsire. I am glad you made it,” he came to life.

“Good morrow, Jacaerys. And, good morrow, Lucerys.” He rasped, looking between them both. Even that seemed to cost him a huge effort. As did the attempt at a smile, “It is a big day for you, Lucerys. Soon, you shall be wed. I did not think…I would live long enough…to see my great-grandchildren…but, now, I hope I shall.”

Jace bowed with a smile that looked oddly fixed and said, “I am sure Luke will do his duty on that score. Come, Luke. Let’s find our seats.”

Grandsire looks like he might die in his seat during this tourney. Luke thought. Then, an awful thought hit him, And…oh, gods, he’s going to see Aemond! How will he react? Will he still be angry and order some worse punishment on him?

The stands filled in next to no time. Baela slipped in just as the sound of the trumpets filled the air. She muttered something to Jace that Luke couldn’t catch. Luke didn’t catch Jace’s response either. He was too busy watching the master of ceremonies, Ser Raymond Rambton, waving his arms to boost the crown’s already immense cheers.

“Many great houses competed in the name of their maidens fair. After many fierce bouts, only four now remain.”

He turned his staff toward the knight’s entrance to the field.

“I gave you Prince Daemon Targaryen of House Targaryen! Ser Kermit of House Tully! Ser Medrick of House Manderley! Aaaannndd…the Sapphire Knight!”

Every knight had received a cheer when he rode onto the field. Aemond, however, received the biggest cheer of the lot. Luke had to press his lips together to stop himself grinning. It must be Aemond’s dream - seeing everyone cheering him on and wishing for his success.

Then, he caught the whiff of angry rot on either side of him. He looked round and saw Jace’s brow furrow. He looked the other way and saw Corlys clenching his fists almost hard enough to crack the chair’s arms. Laenor leaned over from behind Luke and muttered, “I distinctly remember telling you to make sure the Sapphire Knight withdrew from the competition before the morrow.”

“Well, he must have changed his mind.” Luke said, lightly.

Laenor was not convinced. He heaved a sigh, “Did you hide him from Mysaria’s men?”

Luke mulled over his answer. At last, after catching Daemon’s smiling eye, he decided on defiance, “I think some people are forgetting that this is my name-day tourney and I want a fair competition.”

Jace drew in a sharp, angry breath. Corlys glowered as much as decency would allow and muttered, “Give me strength.”

“Well, for the Sapphire Knight’s sake, I hope he’s beaten in his first bout.” Laenor said.

The four combatants were made to draw lots to decide who they would face first. Ser Raymond Rambton produced a sack with four sticks within it. Ser Medrick and Daemon drew a red-tipped stick while Aemond and Ser Kermit drew a blue-tipped one.

“Ah, what a shame.” Ser Medrick said, clapping Aemond on the shoulder, “I was hoping to try my luck against you, good ser. But, however this goes, you have proved your prowess and I would be proud to give you a place among my household when all is done.”

A cheer went up from the crowd as Aemond gave Ser Medrick a small bow of thanks.

But, would he be so eager if he knew who Aemond was? Or what he was?

Ser Medrick and Daemon went first. Ser Medrick managed to break his lance on Daemon’s shield twice but Daemon kept his seat. Then, on the third charge, Daemon managed to get under Ser Medrick’s shield and send the great man crashing to the sand.

Then, it was the turn of Ser Kermit and Aemond. Ser Kermit was not as tall or as well-built as the other knights but, against Aemond, he suddenly loomed much bigger in Luke’s mind.

Aemond’s dealt with worse yesterday. Luke told himself, And, he’s seen Ser Kermit fight. He’ll find a way.

Aemond took two lances on his shield but, thank the gods, he managed to knock Ser Kermit off in the third charge. Ser Kermit shouted, “Sword!” and ran at Aemond, morning star flailing. Luke gave a small gasp of fright but Aemond ducked to avoid it. He moved as quick and lithe as a cobra around the morning star. He didn’t try to move his sword to block it but simply dodged every time.

Then, when Ser Kermit brought the morning star down too hard, it became stuck in the sand. Aemond took his chance and, within a moment, he had his sword pointed at Ser Kermit’s neck.

The stands erupted when Ser Kermit yielded. A sea of blue flags emerged from the crowd, along with the chant of, “Sapph-ire Knight! Sapph-ire Knight!”

Corlys’ scent turned dark and roiling. Laenor had to mutter, “Daemon will beat him. You know he’s unmatched,” to try and stop his scent getting too strong.

Then, Rhaena stood. She approached the edge of the box and called, “Sapphire Knight! A moment before your final bout!”

Luke frowned. What’s she doing? Surely - surely, she’s not going to expose him! He began to rise out of his chair but Laenor’s firm hand stopped him.

“You have won many great victories in this tourney but my father is unmatched in the lists and on the battlefield. There would be no shame in forfeiting this bout in the face of a foe you cannot hope to defeat. You may leave this tourney in one piece and with your head held high knowing you came so far.”

The crowd muttered their disapproval. A few brave souls even booed. Once they had settled, Aemond called back, “I do not think Prince Lucerys would be best pleased if his name-day tourney ended in such a dull fashion. I shall try this bout.”

The crowd roared in delight. In response, Rhaena reached behind her and picked up her favour, “I know my father does not need luck to win but you will need all the luck you can get. Good fortune to you, Sapphire Knight.”

She slid the red-flowered wreath onto his lance to rapturous cheers from the crowd. Corlys’ scent softened slightly as she sat down. Rhaenys leaned toward her and whispered, “Nicely done, Rhaena. If only he’d had the sense to accept your offer.”

Luke found her hand and gave it an appreciative squeeze. She turned to him and gave him a look that left him no doubt that she gave Aemond her favour for Luke’s sake.

The moment arrived. The drums rolled. The horses stood at either side of the lists, whinnying and tossing their heads, as impatient as their riders.

A moment passed. Even the gulls above seemed to halt their calls to wait.

Then, the horses charged. They covered the distance in mere seconds. There was a great crash of breaking lances. Both Daemon and Aemond were winded but they kept their seat. Aemond’s shield had lost a chunk from its bottom but he was undaunted as he went for another charge, new lance in hand.

Another pass. Then another. Two pair of lances shattered. At the third tilt, Daemon lost part of his shield. The crowd’s screams grew loud enough to be heard from Harrenhal.

Then, they charged at each other for a fourth time. Luke realised what Daemon was going to do a second before he did it. He saw Daemon lean to the side, lance aimed for the feet of Aemond’s horse.

“No!” Luke cried without thinking.

Then, he saw Aemond’s lance dive down to meet it. His lance crashed against Daemon’s and both broke. Aemond’s horse managed to jump over the mess but Daemon’s horse screeched, reared and then stumbled. Daemon toppled backwards onto the sand with a resounding crash. His horse lost its balance fully and fell backwards. It was only by a quick roll to the side that Daemon was spared being crushed under his steed.

Rhaena gave a small scream. Baela gasped and Jace flung his arms around her as if she were the one to escape death by a hair’s breadth. Before the crowd could take a breath to cheer, Daemon pulled himself to his feet and screamed, “Sword!”

Everyone caught their breath. Aemond drew his sword and turned to meet Daemon and Dark Sister. Daemon’s scent turned sulfurous with fury. Luke hoped Aemond’s helmet could shield him from his opponents scents as well as shield his own scent. Daemon’s scent made Luke’s eyes water even from this distance.

Their swords rang as they clashed. Sparks flew from the spinning blades. Luke could barely keep up whose sword was where. Both were so fast. Then, Daemon gave a roar and tried to bring Dark Sister around toward Aemond’s neck. Luke gave another scream - but Aemond ducked in time. But, he lost his balance while rolling away. Luke didn’t see what happened. He saw Aemond throw out a hand - but it hit the ground too hard and the wrist crumpled under him. Luke gasped and the crowd groaned its disapproval. 

Then, Aemond sprang up. He backed off a little and let Daemon swing again. Aemond showed no sign of pain but Luke could still tell that something was wrong. He held his shield limply and he couldn’t raise his left arm very high to block Daemon’s attacks. He could only dodge.

Daemon’s truly angry now. To his great surprise, Luke not only felt fear but a bit of anger, Where was that desire for a good fight from before? Is it only acceptable if he always wins? Is it not a good fight if he loses?

Dark Sister sliced nothing but air for half a minute. Aemond seemed to be biding his time and keeping his distance, waiting for the right moment. But, Daemon didn’t tire. He didn’t let up and nor did he let Dark Sister get stuck on anything. The Valyrian steel passed right through the ropes and fence between the lists.

“What’s the matter, Sapphire Knight?” Daemon taunted, “Wishing you’d taken my daughter’s offer now? You can still yield, you know. I’ll try and stop but I make no promises for Dark Sister. When she wants blood, she won’t stop.”

Luke almost screamed at Aemond to yield. He could see no way Aemond could win. All Aemond could do was dance backwards and around toward the centre of the field again.

Then, Aemond jumped back and crouched. He tossed aside his ruined shield and grabbed one of the broken lance fragments. Daemon charged. Aemond thrust the broken lance before him. Dark Sister sliced through the wood with ease. Too much ease. The unexpected lack of resistance made Daemon overshoot and stumble. That was all Aemond needed to slip in under Daemon’s arm and have his sword at Daemon’s throat.

“Yield!” Aemond gasped.

Again, the place stood still. Over a hundred bloodless faces watched the two stand like statues on the field.

Then, Daemon let Dark Sister fall. The sword clattered to the ground, sending up a small puff of sand.

For another moment, nothing happened.

Then, like a sudden clap of thunder, the whole tourney erupted in cheers. Blue flags and blue cloths flew above the crowd. Hats and flowers showered onto the field, falling around Aemond like rain. Highborn and smallfolk alike threw away all dignity and screamed in delight.

 So too did Luke. He sprang from his seat and cheered, both hands flung over his head. He cheered until the hands of both Jace and Corlys yanked him back into his seat.

“Have you lost your senses?” Jace hissed.

Corlys did not speak. His scent went from petrichor to the charged air that precedes a typhoon.

Luke went from elated to fearful at once. Daemon still stood within striking distance as a shocked Ser Raymond announced Aemond the winner. If he unveiled himself now, it would take only a matter of seconds for Daemon to take up Dark Sister and strike Aemond’s head off.

The answer hit Luke at once. He didn’t wait to think it over. He just pushed away from Jace and Corlys’ hands, grabbed the winner’s reward money and dashed out of the royal box. Ignoring the calls and commands behind him, Luke rushed down the stairs and onto the tourney field. He waded through the sea of flowers and hurried to Aemond’s side.

He pressed the reward money into Aemond’s hands and said loudly, “Well done, Sapphire Knight. You’ve fought valiantly and have deserved your reward.”

He didn’t think anyone heard him over the cheers.

But, then, they subsided. Luke looked up and saw Corlys and Jace standing at the edge of the royal box. Baela looked on, face tight with worry, while Rhaena looked terrified.

“Indeed, you would deserve your reward for your victory, Sapphire Knight, but you have presented no eligible maiden for the Prince.”

Luke looked to Aemond. He could just see his one eye through the slit in his helmet. Aemond gave Luke a small nod and, with hesitant hands, he reached up. The whole stadium seemed to hold its breath. The cheers went so quiet that Luke could vaguely hear the smallfolk commentators calling to the people at the back, “Bloody hell, he’s going to take off his helmet!”

When Aemond pulled it off, the first thing that hit Luke was his scent. After being confined so long, it bloomed from him, filling Luke’s nose with sweet honey and lavender. It spread all over the tourney field. Along with a terrible, shocked silence.

Luke felt his heart sink. Aemond, however, held his nerve. He looked up, stared Corlys right in the eye and declared, “I am Aemond Rivers, natural son of King Viserys, and I present myself as a candidate for Prince Lucerys’ hand.”

The noise that came out of Luke’s mouth could only be described as a happy squeak. Then, he saw Daemon advance over Aemond’s shoulder. 

“Stop!” Luke cried, shoving Aemond behind him. Dark Sister came within an inch of Luke’s throat and he stood face to face with his furious great-uncle.

“Stand aside, boy. Stand aside and let me give this traitor the only reward coming to him.”

“What, after he gave you what you wanted - a good fight?”

“What I wanted is to never see him or his ilk again. Much less dressed in stolen armour and wielding a stolen sword! He ought to be on his knees in a motherhouse, apologising to the gods for being born!”

His scent rose to choking levels again. Luke tried to raise his to match it, though he knew it was hopeless.

“Neither my armour nor my sword were stolen.” Aemond argued, raising his own increasingly smoky scent to try and bolster Luke’s, “You may call me a traitor but I am no thief.”

“The Blackwoods did this!” Ser Amos Bracken’s voice rose from the crowd, “The bastard admits he did not steal his armour so they must have given it to him! They must have plotted to send him as an insult to us!”

To Luke’s horror, he heard calls of approval from the other knights. Ser Medrick did not join in but his face bore not a trace of its previous amiability toward Aemond. Luke took a tiny step back and found Aemond’s wrist. He clasped it to reassure him he would not let Aemond be thrown to these wolves.

“I say we call the Blackwoods to King’s Landing and have them answer for their treachery!” Ser Amos went on, “And, we should re-play our bouts! He has turned this whole tourney into a farce!”

“Why?” Luke spat back, “Aemond beat you all, fair and square! The only farce I see here is how bitter you are about it! It looks like Ser Lorcan has some fierce competition for the title of Ser Sour Grapes!”

He’d gone too far and he knew it. Even before Ser Amos’ mouth popped open with shock and the other knights shouted their outrage. But, there was no going back now. This whole thing had been a farce before it had even started, after all. He couldn’t see how much worse things could get. Not even when Corlys marched out onto the field with Jace and the Kingsguard behind him. Corlys looked ready to unleash a storm but Jace’s face surprised Luke.

Jace didn’t just look angry. He looked at Aemond with the utmost loathing. He looked as if he wanted nothing more than to draw his sword and drive it up to the hilt into Aemond’s remaining eye.

“Ser Arryk, Ser Erryk, take him to a black cell! He shall stand trial on the morrow.”

“No!” Luke drew his sword and pointed it at the two Kingsguard, “If you take him, you’ll have to take me too!”

“Grandson,” Corlys snarled as the Cargyll twins hesitated, “enough of this madness. Let not this omega beguile you. Stand back and let justice be done.”

Aemond laid a hand on Luke’s shoulder and murmured, “I knew this might happen, Luke. I am ready for it. Stop being dramatic and let them take me.”

“No, no, I won’t.” Tears stung Luke’s eyes, “This is like the night you lost your eye all over again. It’s not fair!”

“Lord Hand!” Rhaena’s voice cut through Corlys’ next demand. He whirled around at the unusually formal address - and froze. Jace followed his gaze and he gave a gasp. For a moment, Luke had no idea what could shock them out of their rage.

Then, as their angry scents subsided, he caught a faded scent. The Kingsguard parted, lowering their heads. Luke saw Rhaena supporting King Viserys as he limped painfully onto the field. Again, silence fell. The same kind of tense silence before two knights charged at each other.

Daemon lowered Dark Sister with no small amount of reluctance. Aemond stepped around Luke. For the first time that day, he looked nervous. His scent turned sharper and his hands clasped his sword hilt a little too tightly.

After a long, agonising walk, Viserys reached them. Aemond lowered himself to one knee, sword point in the sand, and lowered his head, muttering, “Your Grace.”

Viserys limped past Jace and Corlys and then the Kingsguard. At last, he halted before Aemond. After a few long, rattling breaths, he spoke.

“Rise.”

Aemond rose to his feet, hands slipping a tiny bit on his sword. Even if Viserys had been able to stand upright, Aemond still would be the taller of the two.

Viserys took another few breaths. Luke felt his heart might give out if he had to wait and watch any longer.

“It is…as Lucerys said. Aemond won this tourney…and won it fairly. He deserves the reward owed to him…and I shall attend the feast tonight…to see that it is done…and that he is seated beside the Prince.”

Luke now felt his heart might burst with happiness. Corlys and Daemon both protested but Viserys simply raised his scent in answer. It still was not as powerful as either of them but the threat was clear.

Jace remained quiet. For a moment, Luke hoped he would stay that way and accept it. But, then, he spoke in a clear princely voice, “Until then, I propose that Aemond Rivers be sequestered in Princess Rhaenys’ pavilion. Under strict guard, of course, but it is not seemly for an omega to be surrounded by only knights and alphas.”

Corlys and Daemon exchanged a bitter look but said nothing as Viserys gave his approval. Rhaenys, for her part, betrayed nothing. Aemond gave a small shrug when Luke looked to him with concern, “It’s the best accommodation I’m going to get.” He muttered.

“I’ll be there, don’t worry.” Rhaena added in a low voice, “Besides, Aemond might need to borrow one of my dresses again tonight.” She looked at him with a genuine smile, “Unless you thought to bring one with you.”

Spots of pink appeared in Aemond’s cheeks, “No…I didn’t.”

Chapter Text

LUCERYS

Luke made himself think of all that had gone well. Aemond had won. He would be seeing Aemond again tonight. Viserys seemed to have softened toward him and he might avoid further punishment -

But the others were not swayed.

Rhaenys would not be cruel and it seemed Rhaena was at least willing to be cordial to him for now. But, Daemon would not forgive this. Nor would Corlys. And the way Jace looked at Aemond made Luke fearful that he might command one of Lady Misery’s catspaws to slit his throat in his sleep.

He wouldn’t do that. You’re letting your imagination run away with you.

One thing was undeniable - Luke was in deep trouble. He had been left to make his way back to his tent alone. No one came to ask him to accompany them to the archery competition or the shows. He had no idea if they were even proceeding at all over what happened.

So, he sat in his tent and waited for the blow to fall.

An hour after the tourney ended, it came. The tent flap pulled away and revealed not just Rhaenys but Jace behind her.

“Leave us.” Jace snapped to the guards and servants. Luke’s manservant sneaked Luke a sympathetic look before departing like he was fleeing a dragon.

In a few moments, Luke was alone with them in the tent. He’d had so long to mentally prepare but he still felt as if he’s turned up to fight a battle wearing nothing but his small clothes.

Jace and Rhaenys exchanged a ‘who-will-go-first’ look. Then, Jace took a step forward. In a second, the image of dignified prince dropped and a look of utter outrage replaced it, “Have you taken leave of your senses?!”

“No.” Luke tried to sound resolute but it still came out shaky.

“Then, how else can you explain allowing that - that - thing to compete? How could you let him into your bed? It’s a miracle he didn’t throttle you in your sleep!”

“He wouldn’t do that!“

“This is going beyond naïveté, brother. You are downright delusional. Letting an omega lead you around by the cock just because he gave you a good night! This is the green bitch all over again! You let a viper between your sheets and the whole realm suffers for it!”

It looked like Jace had bottled up all his rage from the last ten years and let it out all at once. As he did so, Luke at last realised the implications of Jace’s words.

“I didn’t lie with him! We’ve only just met.”

“Don’t bother denying it. I know now it was his scent on your sheets!”

“He just - he just slept in the same bed as me. Just sleeping, that’s all! He was - “ Luke felt his face boil but he pushed through, “ - he was comforting me after a nightmare.”

“Luke,” Jace glowered, “lying to me won’t get you anywhere. I trust my nose. I trust it a lot more than you at this moment.”

“He is not lying.” Rhaenys said. Quiet as her words were, they stopped Jace’s diatribe dead in its tracks, “Aemond told me the same. As much as you want to give Luke the dressing-down of his life, I would advise holding off and asking Luke for his side of the story. It would be interesting to see if their stories truly match.”

With great reluctance, Jace relented. So, Luke told the story from finding Aemond in the forest to being comforted during a nightmare. He had wavered about telling them that Rhaena knew too. He didn’t want to get her in trouble too. But, then, Rhaenys asked with a look like a dagger’s point, “And did no one else know of Aemond’s true identity?”

Her look told him she already knew. Sure enough, when he admitted it, she showed no surprise.

Jace, however, groaned, “Bad enough that you were drawn into this but you had to pull Rhaena into this - this prank too?”

“It wasn’t a prank!” Luke retorted hotly, “I was only trying to make up for the hurt I caused.”

“You caused?” Jace’s eyes burned again. His scent and voice rose to an almost unbearable level, “You talk to me of making up for the hurt you caused? When you have done immeasurable hurt to us and damage to our standing among the high lords by letting that thing stay? Grandsire and I will have to give dozens of concessions to make up for it and that still might not be enough to stop a rebellion!

“And, there will be a rebellion over this. If not over the lords being spurned and humiliated then over that thing re-emerging! The green bitch’s allies will come out of the ditches and rise against us just as they did with Aegon’s brats!”

“So, you think they should have been put to the sword, do you?” Luke took a step forward, raising his own scent, “Would you kill Aemond now if you had the chance? When he had the chance to kill me dozens of times last night and didn’t?”

Jace gritted his teeth. After a moment, he snarled, “Yes, I would. If the King would but see sense and give me leave, I would take his head now for this treachery.” He took a deep breath as if he himself was shocked at what he had to say next, “I would kill them all to keep us safe.”

“What treachery? What did Aemond do other than beat all the other knights in a fair fight? On my request too? Jace, I - I just can’t believe you. How could you still wish them all dead after ten years? Haven’t they suffered enough?”

Jace turned his back, rubbing his face with both hands in disgust and dismay, “You are eight and ten years old. You are the heir to Driftmark. How could you let yourself be so taken in by an omega? There isn’t a hope in the seven hells that he meant anything so benign by it. He’s the son of the green bitch, don’t forget. The one who wanted your eye. The one who killed our mother!”

Luke’s eyes swam with tears, “Of course, I haven’t forgotten but Aemond isn’t like his mother. He doesn’t want revenge for his eye or his loss of station. He just doesn’t want to be shut up in a motherhouse like every other male omega.”

“Oh, he won’t be sent to a motherhouse. He’s lost that privilege. He’ll be lucky if he's sent to join the silent sisters. When the banquet is done, he’ll stand trial and I will personally recommend him to the headsman’s block. And, you will not speak for him!” Jace shouted over Luke’s protest, “I’ll lock you in a dungeon too if that’s what it takes to break his hold over you!”

“Enough, Jace.” Rhaenys said. Again, her words were soft but they stopped Jace dead, “It is not seemly for a prince to threaten his brother simply for speaking against him.”

Jace’s cheeks flushed. He let Rhaenys step forward so she could speak her piece, “I know you meant well, Luke. I am quite prepared to believe that Aemond had no ill intentions in coming here either. However, you must see now that it would have been better for all involved if you had let Aemond carry out his original plan of withdrawing before the final bouts. I am not saying it would be fair, only that it would be better.

“It would have been better if Aemond did not have to attend the banquet either. Women and omegas may not bear swords - not usually - but they have ways to cut people down in more subtle and devastating ways.”

Luke could believe it. Jace’s words had made him hot with anger but Rhaenys’ words made him feel small and shrivelled.

“And many maidens attending the banquet tonight already despise Aemond and those who don’t will know that making a show of despising him will earn them favour from the Hand and the Crown Prince. They will do everything in their power to make him feel their hatred while keeping a pleasant face over it.”

“They won’t earn my favour if they do.” Luke muttered, “I’ll make sure they know that.”

Rhaenys gave him an almost pitying look, “As you have already surmised, this day is not about you and your performance on the field has robbed you of any chance of showing yourself to be worth of favour. You insulted great lords to their faces, you openly defied the Hand and the Crown Prince and, if not for the intercession of the King, you probably would have ended up in a dungeon along with Aemond. Even if some are privately sympathetic, they will not show it openly. You are alone in this and no wise lord will think supporting you is worth their while.”

Luke could only look down at his feet. When Rhaenys finished, Jace spoke up again in a more composed voice, “I hope you enjoy your nameday banquet. I will not be attending. I find I have a bad stomach from the tourney food. I think it wise to retire early.”

Luke glowered at Jace’s back as he left. Rhaenys remained to say, “I do not think it would be appropriate for you to seek Aemond out before the banquet or after. Not without a chaperone that isn’t Rhaena, at any rate.”

She left Luke alone in his tent, feeling more miserable than he had in many years.

He had gained a long lost uncle but might lose the rest of his family today. And it was all so unfair. Aemond should have been praised and pardoned for his performance. Ser Medrick should have stood up and offered him the place he’d promised. Lord Corlys would never dare cross a great and wealthy lord by arresting one of his household knights. Was nothing in or around the Red Keep fair?

#

AEMOND

It was hard to get a gown’s sleeve over bandages and a splint strapped to his sprained wrist. In the end, they had to opt for Rhaena’s loosest sleeved blue dress and use a silver cloak over it to cover how much leg the dress failed to cover. Not that his leg was visible. He’d had to continue wearing his tourney boots for there were no proper shoes that fit him,

The whole ensemble was an ill-fitting mess that no cloak or scarf could conceal. The only saving grace was the elaborate braided hairstyle Rhaena’s maid had created. He had a feeling Rhaena had ordered it done to make up for the lack of good clothes.

Still, his armour had been a mismatched mess too and it had served him well. This new type of armour would have to do.

“Sorry.” Rhaena said as they were about to get into the wheelhouse, “I wish we had something better."

“Fear me not.” Aemond told Rhaena, “It will be no different from dealing with Lady Smallwood and her pecking hens. She is the late Lady Blackwood’s aunt and delights in nothing more than taunting me whenever she visits. The way I dress was one of her favourite things to criticise so this won’t be much different.”

“She sounds awful.” Rhaena said, “Good thing the Smallwoods couldn’t come tonight.”

“Oh, I’m sure Lady Smallwood will be kicking herself when she hears she missed her chance at humiliating me in front of the court.”

Aemond didn’t know quite when it had happened but a strange amity had formed between them. Perhaps, it was merely gratitude for fixing her dress and cheering Luke up. But, it seemed to extend beyond that. Even to the point where Rhaena offered her arm and led him into the royal pavilion.

Aemond felt eyes turn and people scowling in his direction. Scents went from comfortable to sour and bitter with displeasure.

Nothing worse than Lady Smallwood’s retinue. He told himself. He held his head high and walked with a stately air past the knights and their maidens. He pretended not to heed the words whispered around him and the titters at his dress.

“Who dressed up a horse like a maiden?”

“What a joke!”

“Freak of nature.”

“It’s not right, I tell you.”

“Should have thrown him in a dungeon. Fetters would become him more than a gown.”

Aemond walked right past Ser Sour Grapes and his equally sour-faced maiden. He smiled as he remembered knocking the man off his horse in the first charge.

As soon as he passed, he heard Ser Sour Grapes mutter, “Smug cunt.”

Aemond very nearly turned round and challenged him for that. But, Rhaena all but dragged him away, fingers tightening on his arm as a warning.

Words are wind. Nothing more than wind. Just like scents are only scent. No matter how sour or bitter they become, they will not choke me.

Still, Aemond could not help the wave of relief at coming to the high table, where Luke and Viserys sat waiting. Luke jumped to his feet and rushed to greet him.

In a formal voice that didn’t suit him, Luke said into the sudden silence, “I welcome you to our table. In honour of your prowess, you shall sit at my right hand.”

Aemond felt like an understudy in a mummer’s play. This role was not his but he had to make the most of it. He inclined his head in a bow, let Luke take his hand and led him back around the table.

“Is your arm alright?” Luke whispered in a more natural tone.

“Yes, just a sprain.” Aemond muttered back.

Aemond sat at Luke’s right hand side. Rhaena took the seat on Luke's other side. Aemond could smell Lord Corlys’ stormy displeasure cutting through everyone else’s as he stood and uttered his line, “Honoured guests, please find your places. The King wishes to offer you his welcome.”

The others seemed to remember their roles and stopped muttering long enough to take their seats. Only as they sat down did Aemond notice the gaps in the seating arrangements. At least a dozen places stood empty before him. When he dared a glance to the left, he saw empty places at the royal table too. Both Jacaerys and Daemon were absent, leaving Baela looking rather silly sitting between two empty places.

They could have let someone else sit in them. Unless…Corlys is trying to shame me further. Yes, that’ll be it. He wants to show the King how many have left on my account.

If that was his design, it didn't work. Viserys did not seem to notice. When he had strength enough to speak, he said without a hint of irony, “How good it is…to see the great houses gathered…to vie for my grandson’s hand. And this day…has been made greater…for the return of my son.”

Aemond felt his cheeks warm. People watching him would take it for gratitude. All Aemond felt, however, was annoyed, verging on angry.

He speaks as if I have simply been on a long journey. Like I’ve been on some grand adventure and not exiled for my mother’s crimes.

“As promised, the winner…has pride of place…and shall have the first dance.”

What?

Aemond wished he was back on the tourney field. There, at least, he knew what to do. The last time he’d had dancing lessons when he had been a prince. After that, he had only ever danced when Alysanne was in want of a practice partner.

Still, he made himself stand and take Luke’s hand again. A jaunty tune started up from the musicians. Luke gave him a nervous smile as they faced each other.

Well, it looks like I’m not the only one who wishes he were anywhere but here.

Luke extended his arm. Aemond extended his, letting the backs of their hands touch, and allowed Luke lead him in a circle. Halfway through, Luke raised his hand and Aemond remembered to raise his. All the while, Luke kept his smiling eyes on Aemond.

And, while Aemond could look into those lively eyes, he felt he could ignore the whispers cloaked by the music.

They managed to get through the first dance without treading on each other’s toes or tripping over. With a low bow to each other, they finished a perhaps not elegant but agreeable dance.

When they straightened, Corlys seemed to appear out of nowhere, all but dragging Rhaena alongside him.

“Lady Rhaena has the next dance.” He announced for the audience. Then, under the rustle of others joining them on the dance floor, he muttered to Luke, “And you will dance with the other maidens. At least, try to make up for the damage you caused.”

Luke looked stung. Rhaena, however, stopped him arguing by stepping between him and her grandfather. There was nothing for Aemond to do other than resume his seat and try to find his food more interesting than the dancing.

“You looked well…dancing with Luke.”

Aemond had half-wished his father would ignore him. In truth, he didn’t know how to feel about him. The man had robbed him of all he had prized other than his life but this was no longer that raging, unstoppable dragon. When Aemond looked around, he saw only a withered husk of a man for whom even speaking was an effort. His omega nature would not allow him to be cruel, no matter how tempting it was.

“I enjoyed it…Father. Luke has been…kind to me.”

Viserys smiled. That alone made him look more alive than he had all day, “I do think…if things had been different… you two would have wed…healed the divide in our family…made amends for past wrongs…”

The man truly had a talent for saying things that made Aemond both burn with anger and send his imagination into overdrive. One thing felt certain, however.

“Mother would never have agreed to it. She would not permit Jacaerys and Helaena to be betrothed, after all.”

Viserys gave a deep, pained sigh, “Ah…I remember now…your mother…she was…”

But what his mother was, Aemond never found out. His eye caught on an alpha lady moving towards the table. Her copper gown had been decorated with white feathers on the collar and cuffs, giving Aemond a clue to her house before she opened her mouth.

“I am Lady Lucinda Penrose, Your Grace. If it please you, I would like to ask Aemond to dance with me.”

“Indeed, you shall.” Viserys said with a happy smile.

Aemond wondered if he really couldn’t see the malicious gleam in Lady Lucinda’s eye or whether it was just his usual wilful blindness. Either way, he could not deny her now. He might as well let her try whatever jape she intended and make her rue it later.

They found a space in the dancers and found their positions. After a few turns, Lady Lucinda looked toward a gaggle of ladies standing at the side. All of them were cackling and made waving gestures her. Aemond could just read their lips and see the words ‘go on’.

Suddenly, he felt like he was ten years old again and he’d walked right into another of Aegon’s japes.

“I was wondering…” Lady Lucinda dissolved into giggles. She had a rather prominent nose. Aemond could easily imagine sticking a dagger up one of the nostrils, “…do you have a cunny and a cock…or - or did your cock fall - ahh!”

Aemond couldn’t see how it happened. Somehow, Luke and Rhaena had moved up close and Luke spun around a little too fast. Somehow, his elbow had risen up and collided hard with Lady Lucinda’s nose.

“Oh! Sorry!” Luke gasped in an overdramatic fashion.

Lady Lucinda had been sent flying back onto her backside. She rose screaming as blood gushed from her nose and all over her bodice. Without sparing a look at Aemond or Luke, she scrambled to her feet and ran through the crowd to her no-longer cackling friends.

“They dared her to ask you to dance.” Rhaena whispered to Aemond, “They’re all friends of Cassandra Baratheon. I think they wanted revenge.”

The musicians bravely carried on and Aemond moved with utmost dignity to an empty spot on the sidelines. The dance slowly resumed but people still stared at him like a caged freak.

It shouldn’t surprise me anymore.

He’d endured the same kind of prying questions and worse from knights and ladies who were ‘just curious’. Benjicot had asked those questions innocently before Alysanne boxed his ears and told him to take his questions to the maester.

Gods, I wish she was here now. At least, I’d have someone sane to talk to on my last night of freedom.

The scent of an alpha drew closer, “Pardon me, Aemond - “

“Take whatever questions you have about my unmentionables to the Grand Maester.” Aemond snapped without looking around.

The man laughed, “I can assure you, your unmentionables are no concern of mine. I would only beg a few moments of time to hear what I have to say.”

Aemond scowled and tried to think of a pretext to stick a toasting fork in the man's stomach. When nothing came to mind, he at last turned to face the alpha. The man was around his fortieth year with a square face and large arms almost bursting from his doublet.

“Ser Adrian Tarbeck, at your service.” He said with a small incline of his head, “I heard what those cackling Stormlands hens said about you. Bad enough that you’ve been robbed of your proper place but to endure such ridicule from supposed noble ladies - such a terrible thing.”

Aemond gave him a piercing look, “You are close with House Lannister, are you not? I would be careful of speaking words so close to treason lest people think you may have been in league with Ser Tyland.”

“Oh, no treason, Aemond. The King’s judgment is sound as it ever was and the Prince Jacaerys is a fine heir. Such a shame he is not here. But I know I’m not the only one who feels you have been hard done by. Why, I heard Ser Medrick lamenting that he would still take you into his service if only the Hand would let him.”

Aemond found Ser Medrick in the crowd. He sat in front of an empty plate, in deep conversation with Ser Kermit Tully.

It would have been a fine thing to be accepted into his service. Aemond thought but he pushed that thought away again.

“If wishes were dragons, beggars would fly. I know not to waste time and thoughts on things that cannot be. You and Ser Medrick should know that too.”

Ser Adrian’s smile didn’t falter, “Naturally. Well, I have lingered too long. I can feel Lord Corlys glaring a hole in my skull. I just want you to remember that you are not without friends here or without people willing to speak for you if needed.”

Not if there was an axe bearing down on their necks. Aemond thought as Ser Adrian slipped away into the crowd, And, if they truly were, what would they want from me in return?

As these troubling thoughts swirled, Aemond sought Luke out in the crowd. He found him dancing with a lady of House Tully, looking rather put out. When his eyes found Aemond, however, his face lit up and he dared a quick smile.

Rhaena danced with a dark-haired knight from the Vale. Aemond only knew that might about him. His sigil of ravens carrying hearts in their talons wasn’t one he recognised.

Aemond found an empty cup and filled it with the nearest wine just to ease the growing boredom. He could only see one other male omega in the crowd and he was looking rather dismal in the corner. Aemond toyed with the idea of going up to him and striking up a conversation.

No, I doubt he will want to be associated with me. I wonder if these ladies have asked him about his cunny yet.

The incident with Lady Lucinda had dissuaded any further japes made to his face. Instead, the ladies made their jibes and sneers far out of Aemond’s hearing. They muttered to their partners, thinking their snide glances in his direction were subtle. Men pulled their partners away from him as they danced. Lords and ladies kept at least three feet away from him. One even tugged their unpresented son away from him with fearful looks like he might bite.

Or as if they think omega-ness is catching.

Alysanne and Samwell would have found the funny side of this. Even when Aemond had gone to his chambers in the darkest of tempers, they could always have him laughing at his tormentors by the time he went to sleep. Alysanne would have probably drawn pictures of Lady Lucinda with different noses to see which one would look best instead of her current nose.

But, the next time I see Alysanne, it will be at our trial. She will surely be held accountable for us. Lord Blackwood will try to take the blame but, damn her honourable nature, she won’t let him.

That thought threw cold water on any warmth thinking of Alysanne brought. Without it, the chill of everyone’s displeasure bit harder. The whispers grew bolder and louder.

“…freak of nature…”

“…no idea if he’ll go after the maids or boys…”

“…ought to kill him so they can reclaim Vhagar…”

“…possible to get a girl with child while he’s with child too?”

The dance ended and Aemond knew he had to escape. The nobles were only staying civil for now on account of the king’s presence. But, by the way his head lolled onto his skeletal chest, Aemond knew that thin protection would last only minutes.

He scanned the room, picking out where the guards were and which ones might be easy to sneak past. The old guard looked like his nose might not be working but the younger one closer to the King’s table looked ready to fall asleep -

Then, he saw Rhaena approaching the King’s table. Viserys jerked awake and looked up at her. With her back to him, Aemond had no way to know what she was saying. So, he had no idea why his father’s face broke into a radiant smile.

“Excuse me - sorry. I didn’t mean to make you jump.” 

Aemond whirled round at the voice. It was the dark-haired Vale knight Rhaena had been dancing with. Close to, Aemond could deduce he was a beta. He could also deduce that this knight was not wealthy. His velvet doublet was faded and his cloak had been mended twice.

“I am Ser Corwyn of House Corbray.”

Oh, so this is the knight that has Rhaena’s heart. Alas that he is not wealthy enough to be worthy of consideration for her hand.

“Lady Rhaena asked me to fetch you. She is making a proposal to the King which may be to your great benefit.”

Aemond frowned in puzzlement but followed without comment. Perhaps, it might provide him with a way out or, at least, take him closer to the exits. They moved through the crowd, glaring eyes following Aemond as he went, until they reached the head table. In the meantime, Lord Corlys had spotted what was going on. He pushed himself up and tried to waylay them but, then, Luke whirled out of the dancers with a lady of House Sunderland, right into Lord Corlys’ path. He just managed to avoid Luke but lost crucial seconds, allowing Aemond and Ser Corwyn to get there first.

Oblivious, Viserys looked up at Aemond with a great effort and rasped, “Lady Rhaena…has offered…to take you into her household…”

“A lady needs a protector,” Rhaena took up the explanation, perhaps seeing how much Viserys struggled to get the words out, “One with proved skill at arms and one where alpha men cannot go. So, what say you? Shall you be my Jonquil Darke?”

Aemond could not have been more shocked if Balerion the Black Dread had come back from the dead. He might had stood, mute with surprise, longer but then he saw Corlys pushing his way towards them.

“Yes. I would be honoured to…my lady.”

“Good…then, that’s settled…I shall be glad…to see more of you…my boy.”

“Excellent.” Rhaena beamed, “Well, if you give me leave, Your Grace, I would like to retire for the evening. I find myself quite weary. Aemond can see me back safely.”

Rhaena and Aemond turned away just as Lord Corlys reached the table. His scent and face were like that of a devastating storm, “And, what is he doing so close to you?”

“Peace…Lord Corlys…” Viserys rasped, “…my son…has been given a place…in Rhaena’s household…”

Lord Corlys turned to glare at Rhaena. She met his glare and scent as best she could, even as her and Aemond’s eyes watered at his stormy petrichor stink.

“Has this whole court gone mad? I expected such idiocy from Luke but not from you, granddaughter. That thing cannot serve in your household. He is unfit for anywhere but a dungeon.”

With a great creaking of wood and bones, Viserys rose from his chair, “You…shall not imprison my son…he shall remain here…with Lady Rhaena…”

Then, he gave a low groan. The exertion had proved too much. He collapsed back into his ornate chair like a crumbling wooden doll, moaning on and on in agony.

“Call the maester! Have the King carried to his chambers!” Lord Corlys bellowed to the guards.

“Come on, quick! While they're not looking!” Rhaena shoved Aemond toward the nearest tent flap and the pair of them hurried back to Rhaena’s tent like children with hands full of stolen treats.

Chapter Text

AEMOND

Aemond spent the night wondering if Corlys’ guards were going to drag him out of bed and throw him in a black cell. If not that, it was wondering what Luke was doing now. Had he managed to find a pretext to leave? Was he dancing with another lady, trying to appease his grandsire? Or, perhaps, that other male omega he spotted on the sidelines.

Don’t be ridiculous. You have only been reunited for two days. You have nothing to claim from him.

The night dragged by. At last, the sun decided it could hold off no longer and rose over the misty tourney field. Aemond slipped out of the makeshift bed at the corner of the tent and found his old clothes folded up beside him.

He dressed quickly behind the screen. Just as he finished, he heard Rhaena’s ladies begin to stir.

This is just like another dinner with Lady Smallwood. He told himself, Just bite your tongue and get through it.

He slipped out and saw them standing in a huddle, staring at him as if he were a bear emerging from its hole. Aemond had retired before they had returned from their revelries so he hadn’t had the chance to meet them. It was clear from their silent assessing and hostile glances that they knew all about the arrangement already and they deeply disapproved.

Rhaena had three ladies in waiting. A rather small number for the daughter of a prince and the future Lady of the Tides in Aemond’s estimation. The eldest had to be at least fifty with silver liberally streaking her waist-length black braids. The lady in a black and white striped dressing gown was also at least ten years older than Rhaena. Her sharp pale eyes jabbed at Aemond and her thick brows furrowed. The youngest was the tallest of the lot of them, almost matching Aemond’s height. It looked like she had tried to make her hair into rope-like braids like Rhaena but, since she had very thin blonde hair, it did not suit her at all. She had just been in the process of taking them out and, if anything, looked grateful for the distraction Aemond provided.

Her hands working on her hair was the only movement in the tent for a long moment. Eyes glared and nostrils flared. All of them were alphas. All of them had their scents tense and ready to rise and overcome his omega scent.

Then, Rhaena then rose from her bed and pulled back the curtains, “These are my ladies.” She said to Aemond with a rather fixed smile, “This is Lady Prudence Rosby,” She pointed to the eldest, “this is Lady Dalla Staunton,” She indicated the lady in black-and-white dressing gown, “and this is Lady Senelle Celtigar.” She pointed to the youngest lady just as she managed to get the last braid out.

“I have made Aemond my sworn shield. He has proved himself on the field and can go where no alpha or man can. Once his wrist has healed, he will be our guardian.” She glared around at the ladies, “So, I don’t want you giving him any trouble, no matter what my grandsire or my father says. You’re in my household and you answer to me.”

Aemond glanced at the ladies. Lady Prudence inclined her head but her eyes didn’t lose their flinty look. Lady Dalla tried to give Aemond a smile but it looked more painful than a needle through the tongue. Lady Senelle curtsied and said, “Yes, my lady.” Or, tried to say it. She said it so quick that it came out all as one word.

Rhaena seemed to decide that was the best she was going to get. She stood back and surveyed Aemond’s rather drab tunic and breaches.

“You can wear the normal guard’s uniform when we get to the Keep.” She told him, “And, I can have a crest commissioned to mark you as my personal guard. It’s just a question of what.”

In the distance, Aemond could hear the low bullfrog roar of Vhagar. The sound sent a bolt through Aemond’s heart. He yearned to leap on a horse and ride out to her. Just to have one more ride, even just a short one, to feel like he was closer to the gods than men -

But, he couldn’t. He just clenched his fists behind his back, painted on a straight face and said, “Perhaps, your dragon? A yellow dragon is a good personal crest.”

Rhaena gave him a placid smile, “That would be a good idea.” Her hardened eyes, however, told him she had seen through him.

If I had not ventured out the night of her mother’s funeral, she might have been the one riding Vhagar now. And, she has not forgotten it.

If her eyes hadn’t given her away, her sudden closeness to him did. She ordered him to stay close as she changed into a new dress and then as they entered the wheelhouse to go back to the Red Keep. The other ladies too glared at him for daring to speak. They dared not raise their scents but, by the way Lady Dalla’s rosemary scent sometimes flared, they dearly wished to.

They may not wear swords but, if looks could kill, they could overcome armies.

#

Rhaena’s chambers were just outside the Holdfast, overlooking a pleasant little courtyard with flowers growing in raised beds. Rhaena, it seemed, had ordered the planting of them ahead of her arrival.

“Good. That’s made everything more pleasant.” She said, laying herself out on a couch as soon as they arrived.

Aemond saw her meaning at once. With the perfume of the summer flowers, the alpha scents of the ladies in waiting were drowned out.

Why was she given all alphas? Is it because she is an alpha herself? Do they fear what she might do to omega maidens so much that they do not trust her with them? Is this why they are all so old and so awkward around her? Because she has so little choice?

Then, why am I allowed? Because I am a male omega? Oh, this is so ridiculous.

“Aemond,” Rhaena beckoned him closer, “I noticed how well you can sew. Can you do it with one hand?”

A curling feeling of dread grew in Aemond’s stomach. He self-consciously touched the bandage around his wrist and said, “If I have a frame to hold my work, yes, my lady.”

“Good. Prudence, could you bring Aemond my yellow cloak and a frame? Some of the embroidery has come loose and I need it put right.”

Anger flared in Aemond. The flames in him grew higher when he saw the barely concealed glee amongst the ladies.

I am meant to be a sworn shield, not a handmaiden. Does she mean to humiliate me? Was her request to make me a Jonquil Darke all talk? Have I just walked into a trap?

“Just until your wrist heals.” Rhaena added as Lady Prudence departed. It was hard to tell from her tone and scent whether she meant any malice by it.

Aemond took a breath and tried to cool his anger.

I will be the worse for me if I lose my temper on my first day. Better embroidery than chains.

“Lady Dalla,” Rhaena added, “come here and give some music.”

Lady Dalla looked like she would rather sit next to a dungheap than next to Aemond but she moved without voicing any protest and pulled out a flute. She spread out her skirt to cover her legs. In doing so, Aemond spotted rips in her fine silk skirt.

She’s in mourning. Is she a widow? Lord Staunton is still alive as far as I know. She’s too young for him anyway. Did one of his sons die recently?

Lady Dalla put her flute to her lips and started a rippling, pleasant tune. Her eyes slid closed and she seemed to disappear into her music. So much so that she didn’t notice when she played the odd wrong note. Her scent lost its sour note and mellowed out to a rich wine-like scent.

A scent with a slight tinge of milk. Keeping his lid half-lowered, Aemond examined her upper half. Sure enough, she noticed a slight swell in his stomach.

A widow bearing her late husband’s child.

But, there was more. Aemond’s omega’s side kept prodding him. He breathed evenly, trying to take in as much as he could without giving himself away.

The more he breathed in, the more he noticed the little hint of rotten grapes.

She’s lost a babe. Perhaps, more than one. And, having a babe when her youth has passed means she may well miscarry this one too.

Aemond noticed with a jolt that he had turned toward her and had edged a few inches closer.

Fuck it! It’s my omega side feeling sorry for her.

He edged back to his former position closer to Rhaena, hoping to the gods Lady Dalla hadn’t noticed.

#

His temper was tested again later that day when evening drew in.

“Aemond, you’ll be sleeping with Lady Dalla in her chambers.”

Neither Lady Dalla nor Aemond were happy with this arrangement. The moment the door closed, she snapped at him, “You stay on that side of the room! You can sleep on the couch there. I’ll not share my bed with the likes of you. And keep your hands and nose to yourself!”

And I’m glad not to share my bed with the likes of you. Aemond replied in his head.

Lady Dalla took as long as she could at the washing basin. When the maid divested her of her clothes, she flung them at Aemond.

“Put them in the washing basket next to you.”

Aemond felt dearly tempted to shove them in the fireplace. It wouldn’t fit her for long anyway. When he dared a look back, he saw her in her shift, the swell of her belly even clearer without her corset. 

The maid didn’t go near him so Aemond undressed himself and laid his clothes in the same washing up basket. Only when he moved towards the sofa did the beta maid move to take the washing away.

Gods, if my clothes don’t come back ripped to pieces or dyed a horrendous colour, it will be a small marvel.

At Raventree Hall, his room had been about half the size of Lady Dalla’s room and sparse but it had been comfortable at least. And, it had been above the kitchens so it was always warm and full of nice smells wafting through the chimney flue.

The sofa he had been pushed into was well worn and squashy. The cushions were thin and he had to pile them up to feel like a pillow. He had to tuck his legs tight against him to make sure he fit under the moth-eaten, musty blankets.

I will not let this defeat me. He told himself as he removed his eyepatch, I will not let an uncomfortable bed be my downfall. I may not be a Targaryen but I am still a dragon. And, dragons can sleep on cold stone without complaint. This should be no trouble.

“What’s that?” Lady Dalla snapped as Aemond reached for his eye socket. He saw her standing over him, candle in hand and scowling at Aemond’s false eye, “What is that made of?”

“It’s glass…my lady.” Aemond told her. He knew he ought to turn away and not test her displeasure further.

But, he told himself, she was already displeased with him and it would do little good to appease her sensitivities now. Besides, a little revenge was better than none.

So, he pushed his fingers into the gap between his eye socket and the glass eye and pulled it out. The sapphire blue ball popped out, allowing him to wrap it in his eyepatch and stow it away under his pillow.

“Well, good.” Lady Dalla sniffed, glaring at the wall just above Aemond’s head all the while, “It’s bad enough you’ve stolen a place that might be given to a respectable alpha. You’ll be in for it if I find you’ve stolen jewels you have no right to.”

Did she really think it was a sapphire? How on earth did she think I would be able to afford such a thing? I haven’t been a prince in ten years.

“And, sleep with your back to me. I don’t want to see that gaping hole in your face looking at me.”

It can’t look at you. That’s the whole point.

Luckily, Lady Dalla looked away before Aemond’s smirk emerged on his face. She stalked back to her bed and climbed in just as Aemond turned his back to her. He closed his remaining eye and tried to sleep.

Just as he had been about to drop off, he heard a rustling of bedclothes behind him. And, then again. Lady Dalla gave a groan and her scent became sour. Aemond dared to look back. The curtains were open and he could see the shape of the alpha woman twitching in her sleep.

Just having a restless night. Aemond thought.

Then, she gave a small cry and shot up. Aemond whipped his head back and feigned sleep, praying for shadows to hide him. All that could be heard in the room for a long moment was Lady Dalla’s panting.

Then, the bedclothes shifted again. At first, Aemond thought she was trying to get comfortable again. Then, he heard soft footsteps making their way toward him.

Fuck. Looks like she’s going to take out her pregnancy temper on me.

Lady Dalla stopped less than a foot away. Aemond lay still, feigning sleep and pondering which way to dodge when she struck.

She drew in a long breath and let it out in a long sigh. Then, another. And, another.

Wait…is she…taking in my scent? For what?

With every breath, her exhale grew longer. Her scent softened and the sourness crept away.

Do omega scents calm pregnant alphas? Is that what she’s doing? Omega scents calm other omegas and help with their pregnancy. It was the same for the late Lady Blackwood or so I heard. She had a small army of omega cousins to help her through her births.

But, Lady Dalla doesn’t have that. She can’t have that, being an alpha. So, she is using my scent while I’m asleep because she wouldn’t dare to ask me when I’m awake?

Like the moments when he and Alysanne waited for the right moment to use the training yard, Aemond did not waste the opportunity. He opened his eye and turned to look at her shadowed form. She gave a gasp of fright and stumbled back. On instinct, Aemond reached out and took hold of her hand to steady her.

“Hush.” He hissed, “Be still. Taking fright so easily will not do the babe any good.”

She took in a sharp, outraged breath.

“Yes, I know. Why so angry? Is it supposed to be a secret?”

“No. I…it is not your business.”

“Yet, you need my scent to ease your sleeplessness.” Aemond pointed out. He couldn’t see her face but he could smell her acrid anger giving way to something else. Something more…frightened? 

“Many women have nightmares during their pregnancy. It is common. It is nothing to indicate that…that something will happen.”

Her voice wobbled. Aemond’s omega side urged him to draw her close. This distress would surely harm the babe if he allowed it to grow worse.

“Perhaps, if I could share your bed, you would not have to rise and take in my scent whenever you have a nightmare. That will surely make your nights more restful and help with the babe.”

Lady Dalla’s scent did not budge. Aemond summoned all of Samwell’s diplomacy skills and made his case.

“I may have no love for you or any of the other ladies in waiting who have given me as cold a welcome as you have. That does not mean I bear any ill will on your innocent babe. And, perhaps, in exchange for my scent and my pheromones, you could see your way to treating me with a little more civility and encouraging the others to do the same. I’m sure Lady Rhaena would want no open discord between us.”

Lady Dalla huffed out another breath. Then, she clasped his lands like lords agreeing on a marriage pact, “A fair exchange. Come on, then but mind you keep to your side and you don’t steal all the blankets.”

And, so, Aemond left the cold couch behind and climbed onto the right side of the bed. The mattress still bore some of Lady Dalla’s warmth and felt a good deal softer on his skin. He felt the mattress dip as Lady Dalla lay down on the left side.

Aemond lay flat on his back for a minute, waiting to see if she’d take his scent again. Just when he thought she might have dropped back to sleep, she spoke. 

“This babe must live. It is all I have of my late husband now.”

Her voice had lost its sharp edge. It sounded frayed and desperate like the last last holding a runaway ship to its dock.

“Who was your husband?” Aemond asked.

“Cedric Staunton. Lord Staunton’s third son. He was never proficient with his lance or his wits and most people forgot about him almost as soon as they met him but he was my love. He died of a fever a few months ago. He so wanted to be a father and I tried so hard to give him a child.”

Her voice grew choked with oncoming tears. Her words spilled out in a rush.

“This is my last chance. Even if he is not alive to see the babe born, I know it will give him peace to know he became a father at last.”

“Alright. Enough. Let’s get some sleep.” Aemond said in as gentle a voice as he could. He closed his eye and turned his pheromones comforting. He found it disquietingly easy. Even if the sound of her tears made him uncomfortable, his omega side yearned to reach out to her.

He lay still, flat on his back like a corpse, and gazed at the small hole in the canopy until Lady Dalla’s breathing evened and slowed.

Is this why Rhaena put me in the same chamber as Lady Dalla? Aemond wondered, Did she hope this would happen? That Lady Dalla would be so desperate to carry her child to term that she would accept help from a freak like me?

Well, even if Luke really is as much of an imbecile as he seems, House Velaryon need not fear. Rhaena has enough wits for both of them.

#

It would be a lie to say that Lady Dalla became friendly to him after that. Outside the bedchamber, she ignored him and went about her duties as if he weren’t there. But, considering her frosty demeanor the previous day, Aemond considered that progress. Lady Senelle adopted a similar tactic. In fact, she didn’t even look at him.

As if she thinks I will vanish if she doesn’t look at me for long enough.

Lady Prudence, however, still glared at him as if she were a dog shitting on the floor. She delighted in giving him the most menial of tasks. Even more so, she delighted in scoffing when he protested that his sprained wrist wouldn’t let him fold clothes or carry something heavy.

At last, on the third night, Aemond jabbed at Lady Dalla in bed and muttered, “You remember our bargain, don’t you? Because, if Lady Prudence tries to make me carry another basket of books back to the library, I might forget to guard my tongue about our arrangement.”

Lady Dalla’s scent spiked and made Aemond’s eye water. But, when he awoke the next morning, she hurried out before he had even touched his tunic. When he reached Rhaena’s chamber, he found Lady Dalla and Lady Prudence just ending a conversation. He did not know what they spoke of but, after that, Lady Prudence took the opposite approach. Instead of snide remarks, she was excessively polite.

And, Aemond wasn’t sure which was worse.

Aemond’s first week passed. By some small miracle, he managed to endure the slights and sneers from other courtiers and to avoid Daemon and Corlys.

But, he also hadn’t seen anything of Luke or much of anything outside Rhaena’s chambers unless it was fetching something. Rhaena had told them stories of spending dinners with Luke and the family but that was it. It seemed that Luke was still being forced to repair the damage done at the tourney. He was still being made to spend time with slighted houses or promise to take on their young sons as squires to House Velaryon.

At last, two weeks after the tourney, he got a pleasant surprise. After Maester Gerardys had checked his wrist and told him he could dispense with the sling, Rhaena told him, “Aemond, I need you to go to the godswood. I left a book there earlier and I would like you to fetch it.”

He walked with head held high and dignity draped over him to the godswood. A few courtiers and nobles passed, each giving him a wide berth and one even turning around and walking away.

But it's fewer than last time. Old Lady Errol didn’t turn around and run the other way this time. It seems that even living under the same roof as a freak is something one can get used to.

The godswood stood mercifully empty. What might be the last of summer sun spread over the grass. The rain from the previous night made the paving stones of the path glitter. Red dragon’s breath flowers grew around the walls and around the base of the weirwood like encroaching flames.

That weirwood is smaller than I remember. Aemond thought, Then again, I am used to seeing the great dead weirwood at Raventree Hall. This is a sapling compared to that monstrosity.

He wondered if he would ever see the Blackwood weirwood tree again. He remembered it being one of the first things he saw of Raventree Hall after his banishment from the Red Keep. Evening had drawn in and, at a distance, the hundreds of ravens roosting in the branches looked like black leaves.

He looked around the marble benches for Rhaena’s book. He found a handkerchief and a discarded goblet but no sign of any book. He made his way around the godswood towards the weirwood. Bushy green climbing trees wound their way around the pillars but, beyond them, nothing else grew high or healthily. Aemond passed a wilting flowering shrub with only the barest of red petals hanging onto its support.

Perhaps, Rhaena left her book around the roots of the weirwood. 

He stepped among the roots rearing out of the ground. Some were thicker than his arm and with enough small gaps between them where a book might fall. He moved around, moving close to the wall covered in dead ivy and then - he spotted the edge of a blue blanket.

“Surprise!”

Aemond snapped his head up. There, hands spread out and sitting on a wide blue blanket, sat Luke, beaming up at him. A larger wicker basket sat before him along with two gold-edged plates.

“Luke? What in seven hells is this?”

“It’s a picnic, of course!” He pulled open the basket and showed him a vast array of bundles wrapped in cloth, “Do you still like beef pie? I remember that was your favourite when we were young.”

“Yes…I do…”

“Well, come on, then. Don’t worry about finding Rhaena’s book. That was just a trick. She arranged this so we can see each other.”

Aemond blinked twice at Luke’s earnest face. His eyes were so honest, it almost hurt to look at them.

“Even if you two are not inclined towards each other in love,” Aemond told him as he sat down, “you are equally matched in conspiracy. I fear for Driftmark’s enemies when you become Lord of the Tides.”

Luke’s smile faltered a little as he sliced up the beef pie, “I don’t know. I don’t think I’d make a very good Lord of the Tides. I wouldn’t be surprised if Grandsire decided to disown me and give the inheritance to Joffrey.” He sighed, “In fact, I’d be glad if he did.”

“You don’t want Driftmark?” Aemond asked, “Don’t you know how many young lordlings would kill to be in your position?”

“So my Grandsire keeps telling me. And I’ll tell you what I told him - I’d give it to the first lordling who asks if I could.”

Luke stuffed a large mouthful of beef and pastry into his mouth to spare himself going further. Aemond too sampled the beef pie. And, oh gods, it was just as good as he remembered it. The gravy was thick, the meat was perfectly cooked and the spices warmed his mouth long after he swallowed.

“But, I can’t complain.” Luke said at last, “What about you? Are Rhaena’s ladies treating you well? I know they’re total harridans. Believe me, Rhaena does too.”

“Did she not choose them for herself?”

“No. She had to send all her ladies home when she presented as an alpha and they were the best alpha women the Crownlands had to offer. It’s so stupid! Rhaena would never do anything to an omega.”

Aemond nodded, “I thought as much. The divides between secondary genders seems to have only grown of late.”

“Tell me about it. Mother would have hated it. She took alphas, betas and omegas into her service. She didn’t care what they were so long as they could do their duty and she never had any issues with them.”

At that, Aemond bent over his pie. He didn’t need to see Luke’s face. He could smell the wave of grief coming over him.

Another silence that veered from emotional to awkward fell. Aemond was tempted to comment on the pie just to break the tension. Perhaps, to say that the cook at Raventree Hall could never quite get the spices right like the cook at Red Keep. But, that somehow felt worse.

“Your mother, ah, was a good woman to do so.”

Then, Luke leaned to the side, resting his head on Aemond’s shoulder, “I’m so glad you’re here. It feels like we can finally start putting things right.”

“Gods be good, I hope you’re not planning to ask Corlys to bring Aegon and the others back. You really will be locked in a cell if you do.”

“Well, why not?” Luke asked. Aemond laughed but, to his shock, Luke was looking deadly serious, “A rebellion happened despite Aegon being shut up in the Eyrie. He couldn’t do much more damage here. And Helaena and Daeron have done nothing to deserve their fate. I tried to tell Jace as much but…” His face twisted into a look of anger and sadness, “…he just turned away. He hasn’t spoken a word to me since the tourney. Neither have Baela or Joffrey or Daemon. Grandsire and Grandmother only talk to me when they want to chastise me.”

Without really thinking, Aemond linked his fingers with Luke. His scent turned comforting to counter how Luke’s scent darkened with misery.

I know I’ve had worse over the last decade but I’m hardened to it now. He’s clearly not. He’s as sensitive as a peach to being treated coldly.

“So, the only people here willing to talk to you are Rhaena and myself? What a terrible prospect. I wouldn’t be surprised if you made preparations to sail back to Driftmark right here and now.”

“Not a chance.” Luke gripped Aemond’s hand, “I wouldn’t leave you to these wolves.”

He tried to look brave and noble. He only looked like a mummer pretending to be a knight. Aemond had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself laughing.

“But, you haven’t told me what it’s like with Rhaena’s ladies. If they’ve treated you badly, I’ll - ”

“No need for you to interfere.” Aemond cut across him, “I’ve found a way to keep them in line.” Then, because he could see no reason to keep the secret from Luke, “Lady Dalla is with child and she uses my pheromones to help with sleeping in return for decent treatment.”

Luke’s eyes widened slightly, “Truly? I knew she was with child and her husband died recently but - oh, this is brilliant!” Wide eyes were replaced with a wide grin, “If they can see the good you can do Lady Dalla, they can’t help but warm to you.”

Aemond indulged him with a small smile and no protest. He had the strong feeling that he would need to do more than give off a pleasant smell to win over the other ladies at court. No harm in letting Luke have a bit of hope, though. Especially, when he saw what lay at the bottom of the basket.

“Is that marchpane?”

“Yes!” Luke brought out a whole block of marchpane squares, each printed with a dragon’s head, “I remember you used to love it.”

“I still do. Though, there is precious little of it in Raventree Hall.”

“Really? Why?”

The rest of the hour was spent more pleasantly. Stories of Aemond’s time at Raventree Hall made the time fly past. Luke laughed at every tale of Alysanne’s japes and he made Aemond laugh in his turn when he told him about how terrible his own swordplay was.

#

From the moment he stepped into Rhaena’s chambers, he knew everyone had been talking about him. Rhaena gave him a smile and a knowing nod. The other ladies, however, gave him pointed stares.

“Oh, I found the book.” Rhaena said, “It was under my bed after all. Never mind. But, I might have misplaced more books. I’ll let you know.”

With a knowing smile, she returned to her letters.

“You missed lunch.” Lady Dalla told him as Aemond retrieved his stitching.

“Never mind.” Aemond said, “I had a large breakfast so I think I’ll skip lunch.”

All a bare-faced lie and everyone in the room knew it. Lady Prudence gave a sharp sniff and turned away to her book. Lady Senelle pressed her lips together to stop herself laughing. Lady Dalla held Aemond’s gaze for about five seconds before she picked up her new music sheets.

Only when they retired for bed did anyone confront him. As soon as Lady Dalla was dressed for bed, she put her hands on her hips and asked, “Where were you earlier? Were you telling tales? Or committing treason?”

“I have no one to tell tales to.” Aemond reminded her, “Everyone thinks I’m too much of a traitor simply for breathing.”

He turned away to move behind the screen and undress for bed. Just as he was tugging on his nightshirt, Lady Dalla said, “No one will believe you if you tell tales, you know. If it’s my word against yours, my word will prevail every time.”

“To be sure but such strife would make me distressed. And a distressed omega is not helpful to any lady with child.”

His point made, Aemond climbed into bed and lay down on his customary left side. He heard a slight rustle of paper as his head rested on the pillow. 

Lady Dalla stood still. Then, when she couldn’t think of a riposte, she lay down on the right side and was soon asleep. Aemond turned his head to look out of the window at the full moon - and there it was again. A low crumpling sound.

He eased an arm around and reached under his pillow. Sure enough, he found a little slip of paper, no bigger than a raven scroll, folded up under it and only slightly crumpled.

By then, Aemond’s eye had adjusted to the light. The moon shone almost as bright as day through the gauzy curtains. Ever so carefully, he slid out of bed and made his way to the window. With his back to the bed, he could claim he had just gone to the window for some fresh air if Lady Dalla awoke.

He raised the paper to the light and found large black letters spelling out a single statement:

'We can save your mother.'

Aemond felt rooted to the spot. He had to blink rapidly and even rub his eye to make sure he was reading correctly. In the months after he lost his eye, reading had been a challenge to him. He sometimes got letters transposed and read things wrongly.

But, there could be no doubt here. And, no doubt that this note spelled nothing but trouble.

Aemond reached out to open the window. A high wind blew outside by the look of the rippling flags. Let the wind take this away and let it not bring further trouble upon him.

'We can save your mother.'

From what? Aemond moved his hand away from the window latch. He stared at the handwriting, trying to pick out anything distinctive. But, no, he felt sure it didn’t match Rhaena’s hand. He needed to check the other ladies’ writing to be sure but he felt deep inside that none of them had left it here.

One of the maids, then. Perhaps, the one who changed the bed. But, who paid them to leave such a traitorous piece of paper here?

He crossed the room and stowed the paper in the pocket of his new tunic for the morrow. He would bring this to Rhaena’s attention tomorrow and she would pass it on to Mysaria. She would track it down in no time and he would not fall into this trap.

'We can save your mother.'

The silent sisters did not speak but omegas and women could make their displeasure known without words. Was she an outcast even among the cast off women of the land? Was she in danger? Were those who believed him and his siblings to be unfairly exiled plotting with her or around her?

Would reporting this note doom his mother to certain death to prevent such a plot?

Mother was dead to me the moment she was sent to the silent sisters. Colluding with this plot is more likely to lead to my death and the death of my siblings as well as her.

Aemond’s eye found the hole in the canopy.

But, Daemon and Corlys’ power is not as extensive as they want everyone to believe. They are fractured by in-fighting and a good number of the lords feel slighted by Luke’s antics at the tourney.

What if they fail to find the centre of this plot? What if they name the wrong person? What if they blame me? Daemon would jump at the chance to accuse me of treachery. Dark Sister itches to take my head every day.

Alysanne’s words came back to him, ‘One good thing about being a bastard is that no one wants to look for you. You can creep around in the shadows while us trueborn struggle in the light. You can tell me if they’re planning to marry me off just by spying on their meetings. Just pretend to be their cupbearer or something.’

If I bring Rhaena more concrete evidence, perhaps, she will make sure I am not executed on some trumped up charge…but, perhaps, she wearies of standing between me and the court already. If I can bring her evidence and a name, perhaps, she will see fit to suffer my presence a little longer.

But, if I’m caught before I find enough evidence, I will be executed for sure. Ser Adrian Tarbeck may be involved but I can’t find any solid evidence. No, I must find out who wrote this and who had the maid sneak it into my chambers.

I should tell Luke, though.

Yes, that sounded like a wise back-up plan. If they did try to execute him for nothing, at least one voice might speak up for him.

Chapter Text

AEMOND

Another week passed. Though he was free of the sling, Maester Gerardys still made Aemond wear the damned brace.

“Another week is needed before I will be happy with you wielding a sword.” He said. 

“My wrist feels fine. I can hold a needle with it well enough.”

“Ah, but a sword and a needle are very different things. No, it’s always best not to strain yourself even if you think everything is fine.”

The man was a pleasant-faced beta. His scent gave nothing away but Aemond saw in his eyes that he did not think Aemond should be wielding a sword in any condition. It made Aemond want to punch him, even if it meant damaging his wrist further.

At that moment, Rhaena interceded, “Maester Gerardys, perhaps, you can attend my sister now. Baela asked me to send you to her when you’re finished with Aemond.”

“Of course, my lady.” With a bow, Maester Gerardys hurried away. Aemond was left to pick up the cloak he was mending and stitch in sulky silence. Rhaena didn’t speak to him but she did extend a little wave of mellow pine scent towards him.

“I’m sorry. Once you’ve finished that cloak, I’ll let you start your guard duties, no matter what Gerardys says.”

Aemond doubted that promise but, with nothing else on offer, he had to take it. With a respectful bow of the head, he returned to his work.

Two cloaks in as many weeks. How does Rhaena manage to damage so many?

The hem had come undone and had been mended badly. Aemond had to unpick the remains of the uneven stitches before he could make his own, more even ones.

He heard a little hiss of pain and saw Lady Senelle sucking her finger. A hoop of embroidery lay abandoned on her lap. It was meant to be a shield with her family’s crest of red crabs across a white field. The crabs looked more like fat spiders with stunted legs and the threads hung in loose loops. All it would need was a slight tug to pull them loose.

I think I know who mended this last time. There really must be a dearth of alpha ladies in the Crownlands if the daughter of a prince has to accept such a cack-handed lady-in-waiting.

A few minutes later, Rhaena left to use the privy. In that time, the laundress came with her freshly washed dresses. She left before any of the other ladies noticed her and was long gone by the time Lady Prudence started unfolding them.

“Oh! They’ve given us Lady Baela’s dress again!” Lady Prudence Rosby groaned. She plucked up a red velvet dress with swirling flame-like silver embroidery from the pile.

“I swear, that head scullery maid is going blind.” Lady Dalla Staunton sighed, “Lady Baela and Lady Rhaena may be twins but their clothes are as different as ink and iron.”

“Aemond,” Lady Prudence said in that over-sweet way saved only for him, “would you mind taking this to Lady Baela’s chambers and tell her ladies they might have received some of Lady Rhaena’s things? You can carry a dress with one hand, can’t you?”

Aemond put down his stitching and said his most polite tone, “Very well, Lady Prudence. Let me just put this away.”

As he turned away, he heard Lady Prudence mutter, “Yes, yes, in your time, then," but only under her breath as Rhaena returned in that moment.

Aemond bit his lip to stop himself snapping. He crossed the room to the garderobe. He made to place the cloak on a free hook - but a warning feeling in his gut told him to halt. 

In that moment, he remembered lessons with Aegon when they were children. He remembered the times when Aegon, realising he could never exceed his brother, had sabotaged Aemond’s work to drag Aemond’s performance down to match his. It never worked. Their tutor could easily spot Aegon’s sloppy attempts at forgery.

But these ladies might be better at covering their tracks. Just as Lady Smallwood had been when Aemond had found his stitching work ruined when he’d gone out to use the privy. He could never prove she had done but he and Alysanne knew. He could still hear her gloating reprimands that ‘having one eye is no excuse for such clumsy work’.

In the Red Keep, he did not have Alysanne to empty the contents of a chamber pot on her head in retaliation. Nor would he get away with it if he did it himself. Lady Dalla could not yet be relied on to defend him either. She might have forced Lady Prudence to be civil but he couldn’t trust her to actively prevent any underhanded trickery.

He spotted a chest of smallclothes at his feet. In a moment, he’d folded the cloak up, opened the chest and stuffed it under the pile of white underclothes. The chest didn’t close easily with that done but it was enough. Hopefully, any spiteful ladies might not think to look in there.

He took Baela’s dress from Lady Prudence and even gave her a little bow before he left.

In theory, it was only a short walk. But that short walk involved walking past Princess Rhaenys as she walked by her attendants. Court ladies, Aemond could have handled. Rhaenys, however, was not someone he was willing to tangle with. Especially since she seemed to be in a bad mood already.

So, he bobbed his head just as a respectful attendant should as she passed. In doing so, he looked down at Baela’s dress in his arms - and noticed a pale patch on the skirt.

He turned around and approached a nearby window. The sun shone in brilliant golden rays that morning. So, when Aemond brought the gown to the window, he could clearly see where the colour had been leeched out. It was clear from the smell alone that the lye soap had been used too liberally.

And, they used it right on the front of the skirt too. There’s no hiding it. Baela may blame me for that and there’s no chance I can wash it out now. Damn it, what were they thinking? She’ll likely never wear this again anyway. I might have known this was another trap.

Aemond was about to move away, thinking of how he could pre-emptivly stain the dress and avoid the worst - and then he looked again.

The stain is below the bodice - near her abdomen or…or, just below. What an embarrassing place to spill something. Or, was it her moon blood? 

Aemond checked to make sure there were no courtiers about. Then, he brought the dress up to his nose and sniffed. At first, nothing but the stink of lye filled his nose. But, when that faded, something sharp and metallic emerged like a fox from its hole.

It is blood. Does she bleed that heavily? She must get through many gowns if so.

Something in Aemond jabbed at him with every step. No lady bled this much every moon. Perhaps, it had come on her unawares when she had no rags to hand. But it was too much even for that. And, there was something else about that blood smell disquieted him.

He reached Baela’s chambers, trying to resist the urge to sniff it again. He was just about to knock when the door opened and Baela emerged. She started with a small gasp. Then, she glowered at him like she wanted to throw a punch at him.

And, she can hit hard. Aemond remembered.

She wore a flowery perfume but her honey omega scent pushed through it. It turned dark and rotten as she snapped, “What do you want?”

“I come to return your dress, my lady. It was brought to Lady Rhaena’s chambers by mistake. If you may have received some of Lady Rhaena’s clothes in error too, I shall be glad to take them.”

Baela’s face was an open book. Her eyes widened and her scent gave a fizz as if Aemond held out a poisonous spider. She snatched the proffered dress and threw it backwards into her chambers without looking. She turned away without a word of thanks and stormed out with her attendants in tow. Aemond had to jump out of the way to avoid her and the small army of omega ladies behind her.

Aemond just got a glimpse of the dress crumpled on the chamber floor before Baela’s guard shut the door. Not liking the curious look the beta guard gave him, he turned his steps back to Rhaena’s chambers. With every step, the mystery gnawed at him like woodworm through old furniture. Even after he found his stitching untouched and returned to work, he still couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Baela wore scent. He remembered, Her natural scent would be pleasant enough as an omega. Why would she need to wear scent on top of it? None of the other ladies wear it. Not unless they are about to go into heat…but I don’t think Baela is close to her heat.

All the pieces lay before him like a shattered vase. They all fit together somehow but he couldn’t see which way to position them. He couldn’t see which piece fit with which or even if the pieces belonged in this mystery.

The overly-cleaned dress…the scent…the blood…

“Ah!” Aemond gasped. He had been so busy trying to piece it all together that he misjudged the needle position and it slid under his fingernail.

“What is it?” Lady Dalla asked at once.

“Nothing.” Aemond inspected his finger. Not much blood seeped out but it still stung like hell, “Just jabbed myself with the needle.”

He looked back to his stitching - and noticed he’d gone wrong a few stitches back. Letting out an annoyed sigh, he started unpicking it. He had just got back to the beginning when he felt movement on his blind side. He looked round and saw a little pot of green salve sitting beside him. And Lady Dalla sat close to him, presenting her back to him and playing a lively tune on her flute.

Aemond reached down and sniffed the pot. Sure enough, it was the same healing salve the Blackwood maester used on his training cuts. When he dabbed a little on his bleeding finger, it stung just the same and left a strong woody scent. But, the bleeding did stop and he could move his finger without it aching.

He put the lid back on the salve and left it where he’d found it. He turned back to his stitching and let his nose tell him when Lady Dalla approached and retrieved it.

As she did, her scent drifted towards him. More milky than it had been and sweeter too. It still wasn’t enough to cloak the scent of rot, though. Perhaps, when she was further along, her scent would settle. Settle, yes, but never fully lose the bitterness of her loss.

Aemond heard Senelle approaching. Then, something aggressively floral hit his nose.

“Gods be good, Senelle, how much scent did you put on this morning?” Lady Dalla asked.

“Sorry, the perfume bottle spilled all over my wrists.” Senelle tried to say. However, she spoke so fast that it sounded like just one word - “Sorrytheperfumebottlespilledallovermwrists.”

“Are you trying to say the perfume bottle spilled?” Lady Prudence snapped, “Enunciate, girl!”

Aemond suppressed his smile. At least, Lady Prudence’s sharp tongue wasn’t just reserved for him. And, really, Senelle did deserve a bit of mockery. She smelled so sweet that she could have easily been mistaken for an omega.

Then, two pieces snapped into place.

Wearing strong scent can conceal a natural scent. So, it can conceal both the sweet and the rot.

If Baela is wearing scent, she wants to conceal her scent. And, her scent might reveal that…

#

Rhaena sent Aemond to ‘fetch a book’ from the godswood the next day. Aemond almost ran to the empty godswood and found Luke waiting for him in his usual place among the leaves.

“Are you alright? I heard they were making you do drudge work. Baela said - ”

“It was only taking a misplaced dress to Baela.” Aemond reassured him. The smell of meat pie and blackberry pastries was enough to persuade himself to put off the big question for a moment. He dug into the beef pie and let Luke talk about how Jace and Baela still weren’t talking to him.

“…and, I had to spend the whole evening with Lord Redwyne and apologise for calling him Lord Sour Grapes. As if everyone hadn’t been calling him that behind his back! Thank the gods they’re all leaving tomorrow. There’s just, well, Lord Bracken left. He’s not going to leave until the Blackwoods arrive. He doesn’t want to miss the fun.” He said it like he spat out poison.

A swooping sensation hit Aemond in the stomach. The Blackwoods’ trial - how could he have forgotten? In a few days, Lord Blackwood and Alysanne would be here. Lord Blackwood would be well aware of the scheme now. His honour wouldn’t let Alysanne face any punishment. He would take it all on himself.

“Sorry.” Luke wrapped an arm around Aemond and drew him into a one-armed hug, “I tried to tell Grandsire not to punish them but he just told me to leave him. He threatened to stop me from attending the trial and I know I have to. Someone has to speak up for them. Someone has to stop Lord Amos getting the satisfaction of watching them be punished.”

“Luke,” Aemond said, “you don’t have to keep putting yourself in front of Lord Corlys like this. You really will be sent away if you keep this up and, then, where will I be?”

Luke crumbled the remaining pie crust in his fingers in frustration, “I wish we were all back at Driftmark. Things are better there. Father’s not as unreasonable as Grandsire. Maybe, I can persuade Grandsire that Rhaena and I should move our households back to High Tide.”

“Maybe.” Aemond said. Privately, the idea of returning to the place where he lost his eye sent a chill down his spine. But, Luke was right. It would be a better place for them. It would have fewer prying eyes and fewer scornful nobles, anyway.

They moved on to the blackberry pastries. Aemond thought they were made better at Raventree Hall. The tarts were made with ground almonds and other things that made them sweeter but, he decided not to say so. Not when thinking of Raventree Hall brought more dread than happiness.

The treats could not overcome the bitter taste in Aemond’s mouth. He decided it was time, at last, to introduce the big question.

“Luke…do you know if Baela has lost a babe?”

Luke’s head sprang off Aemond’s shoulder, his mouth open with shock, “What? I didn’t even know she was with child! Where did you hear this?”

Saying all his suspicions aloud didn’t make them seem any more believable. Aemond started to wish he had kept it to himself. Luke, however, absorbed it with a solemn face.

“You know…now, that I think about it, she was meant to come to Driftmark for a visit…about a month before the tourney…but, then, she couldn’t come because she came down with a fever. At least…the message said it was a fever…you don’t think that it was actually because she lost a babe, do you? Why wouldn’t Jace tell the truth if that was so?”

“He’s afraid of looking weak.” Aemond said. He knew he risked much by speaking so openly to anyone but Luke but someone had to say it, “Everyone close to the throne is. If I may speak plainly, Jace’s claim to the throne is not as secure as everyone wants it to be. Not while I and my siblings live. He needs an heir to secure his claim. If it got about that Baela miscarried, some may take it as an ill omen. Especially when Aegon had no trouble carrying his babes to term. So…if it happened so early in the pregnancy that no one knew until the miscarriage…perhaps, everyone thought it best not to even announce it.”

Luke looked grave and shook his head, “Poor Baela. To go through all that and then have to pretend it never happened. This fucking court! Everybody makes everybody miserable and for what? The world’s most uncomfortable chair and the right to make everyone more miserable?”

“If only everyone saw things as clearly.” Aemond sighed, “Maybe, people wouldn’t want the Crown so much.”

He extended some comforting pheromones toward Luke.

He’s an imbecile but a kind imbecile. He’ll be a popular Lord, even if he isn’t a good one.

“There is more.” Aemond reached into his tunic, “It seems their fears about Jace’s stability are well-placed.” He showed Luke the slip of paper, “I found this under my pillow the other night. A maid likely put it there but they must have been paid by someone. Do you know the hand?”

Luke took the slip of paper and stared hard at it, “Your mother? But, I thought she was a silent sister. Who would harm a silent sister?”

“Someone who wants to put a former queen back on the throne.” Aemond suggested.

“Oh.” Luke’s eyes widened, “Oh, gods. That’s probably a lot of people, isn’t it?”

“Indeed. It could be any of Lord Corlys’ enemies. Are you sure you don’t recognise the handwriting?”

“Positive.”

“Well, you should keep it. I don’t want to be caught with something so treacherous.”

“Yes. Of course! I’ll keep it safe. And, I’ll keep an eye out to see if I recognise the handwriting later. Oh!” He gasped, “Maybe, I could start writing those letters of apology to the lords Grandsire keeps pestering me about. That’d be a good way to get every lord’s writing.”

Aemond gifted him a smile, “Well, well, they say an unlit candle clock can be right once a day. You do have something close to a brain after all. You say you have to write letters of apology? For the tourney, I suppose?”

“Yes.” Luke nodded, wiping away the scowl at Aemond’s jibe, “Grandsire’s making me apologise to the lords for letting you compete and then for snubbing their daughters. I’ve been putting it off but, well, this is the best pretext we have for getting everyone’s handwriting, isn’t it?”

“Yes, it is. That’s very clever.” Aemond couldn’t help but ruffle his curly hair like a child.

#

LUCERYS

Spending time with Aemond was fast becoming the only thing he had to look forward to. He and Rhaena were the only people being kind to him. Jace still glared at him with fury and refused to talk to him at meals. Joffrey imitated his oldest brother, even though he didn’t understand why. Baela didn’t look as angry but she wouldn’t attempt to smooth things over. Corlys and Daemon were both furious and never lost an opportunity to let him know it.

If only Laenor hadn’t been called back to Driftmark. Then, at least, he would have him to back him.

“It’s clear he has skill and he has behaved well so far.” Laenor had said the night before he had to leave, “But, I’m afraid skill and good behaviour aren’t enough. That won’t make your mother come back to life nor will it undo decades’ worth of festering wounds. Believe me, there were times when I thought the punishment on Alicent’s children was unfair, especially after the uprising, but there’s nothing we can do about it without hurting Jace, Joffrey or you. These are just the hard choices we have to make, I’m afraid.”

Luke met Aemond as often as Rhaena could arrange it. He had thought themselves clever to arrange meeting Aemond in the godswood where the big weirwood tree could shelter them.

He really should have realised that Mysaria would know about that hiding place. That she was just biding her time and waiting for the right moment to strike.

Luke had just finished writing his fifth letter of apology. It was just as the ink was drying that he realised he had accidentally called Lord Penrose’s daughter ‘Lady Lucky’ rather than ‘Lady Lucinda’. With a groan, he screwed up the ruined letter and began another.

A knock interrupted just as he dipped his quill back in the ink, “Lady Mysaria to see you, my Prince.” The guard told him.

Luke shot up from the desk in time to see Mysaria gliding into the room. Her white dress and cloak covered her from neck to toe, hiding her slender frame from the chin down. Her sharp dark eyes settled upon him after one quick scan of the room and she pinned him with a stare.

“Forgive the interruption, my Prince,” She said in her careful, enunciated tones, “but I feel bound to approach you about all the time you are spending with Aemond Rivers.”

“What of it?” Luke asked, pretending not to care and knowing Mysaria wouldn’t be fooled for a minute.

“You spend many hours with him in the godswood several times a week. You seem to find this time quite…enjoyable.”

“My brother and grandsire aren’t speaking to me.” Luke snapped, “I’d find the company of anyone willing to speak to me enjoyable.”

“A good thing that I want to speak to you, then, if you are truly so lonely that the company of a traitor is preferable.” Mysaria said in the same voice a spider would use to a fly buzzing close to the web, “But, you aren’t just speaking to him because you have no other choice, are you not? You like him.” She didn’t say it with any teasing, just as a matter of fact.

Luke kept his mouth shut. He couldn’t think of anything to say that wouldn’t make him look a bigger fool.

“You picked the place for meeting well. You do well to wear scent-dampening clothes too but everyone has noticed you carrying a picnic basket to the godswood every other day. Everyone knows you have a lover. It is only by my intervention that no one knows who.”

“I didn’t ask for your intervention.”

“A mistress of whispers serves the realm and the realm is best served if no one knows that the future Lord of the Tides is carrying on with a hated traitor to the crown.”

Luke scowled. Then, he remembered what Aemond said about the danger of whispers and how Jace’s place was not as secure as anyone wanted it to be.

“We’re not carrying on.” He admitted, “We’re just talking. And, we have a picnic. That’s not a scandal, is it?”

“Very much so. And, if you don’t want to have to write even more letters of apology and accept even more squires, you might do well to accept a little proposal I have for you.”

Luke folded his arms, “This is blackmail.”

“This is my duty. I personally could not care less who you have picnics with. I am merely telling you what would happen if Lord Corlys found out. Or, rather, when. All I can do is delay things. Gossip has a habit of slipping the net no matter what I do. We might as well get some benefit out of it before it does. May I sit?”

With great reluctance, Luke gestured to one of the chairs by the fireplace. Mysaria settled herself into it and, at last, pushed her cloak aside to reveal her small, dainty hands.

“I want to know what Aemond has told you about himself. I have been monitoring him and his siblings, of course, but I did not know he would come here. I would dearly like to know where the gap in my intelligence is.”

“You’ve been spying on him all this time!” Luke snapped, “And, all his siblings too? And - and his mother?” He added on a sudden thought.

Mysaria gave him a searching look at his sudden change of tone but only said, “Of course. Anyone looking to raise rebellion would use them as a figurehead. As we saw in the previous rebellion.”

“And, where are they all now?” Luke asked.

Mysaria gave a half shrug, “Where they are supposed to be. Unlike Aemond. Tell me, how did he come to be so proficient at jousting? I knew he practiced swordsmanship in front of the lord’s son and grandson to embarrass Samwell but I did not know he was practicing with jousting.”

Luke considered this question hard, “You’re not going to tell anyone else, are you? You’re not going to use this against him?”

Mysaria considered her answer, “I want to know because I have male omega contacts who want to know. They are curious as to how a male omega can best a male alpha.”

“You know other male omegas?”

“I know other male omegas who would like to be as good as him. And may do much for this information.”

“You can’t.” Luke frowned, “Every male omega I’ve heard off ends up joining the Faith.”

“Just because you haven’t heard of many male omegas presenting does not mean they do not exist. This increased hatred of male omegas urges some families to cover up any inconvenient presentation. I know of many beta knight who is, in fact, an omega hiding in plain sight. Unless they are to marry, who needs to know whether they hide a cunny in their breeches?”

Her lips quirked into a crooked smile at the sight of Luke’s widened eyes.

“I said before I serve the realm, not Lord Corlys or Daemon. I do not like this separation of alpha and omega in the court and the way male omegas are shut up in septs or pushed into brothels - yes, that happens to lowborn omegas who cannot conceal what they are - and I would like to see them treated with more respect.”

Luke still felt on shaky ground with Mysaria but this idea looked good. So, he gave Mysaria a sketch of what Aemond had told him about creeping into the armoury at night, sneaking practice sessions in the woods during hunts and Alysanne’s plot to have Aemond take the Blackwood knight’s place in the lists.

“This is all useful.” Mysaria nodded, “I shall be sure to tell my agents to be more diligent in their duties. If they missed this, they may have missed worse. Now, tell me, has Aemond been approached by anyone wishing to draw him into treason?”

Luke saw the cracks in the ice before him. Just when he thought things were steady, it all became precarious again, “Ser Adrian Tarbeck approached him at the ball. He didn’t say anything about a plot but he said many people thought he’d been treated unfairly.”

Mysaria nodded, face blank, “Not surprising, considering how close the Tarbecks are to the Lannisters. But, there is something else?”

The note burned a hole in Luke’s pocket. At last, as the silence stretched on and his mind failed him, Luke said, “He found this under his pillow. He hasn’t told anyone else and he doesn’t know who wrote it. And he’s afraid of telling anyone. Daemon might use it as proof of treason.”

Mysaria nodded, accepting the note and scanning it, “A wise precaution. Daemon pesters Lord Corlys about it as much as Ser Amos protests about the Blackwoods.” Then, her smile widened, “And, I will consider this test passed.”

Luke blinked, “What?”

“It was I who arranged to have that note placed under his pillow. There was only one way to know for sure if he could be trusted and that was putting him to the test. I suppose it was too much to expect him to take this directly to me. He should, however, be more guarded with his tongue around you. You clearly cannot keep a secret as well as he.”

That statement left a hot, mortified ache like infection in a wound.

“Still, it is good that he did not make this public and that he brought it to you, who has his best interests at heart. He shows good judgment as well as discretion. Very good indeed. Pass on my compliments next time you see him.

“And tell him,” Mysaria added before Luke’s temper got the better of him, “that any notes he receives after this one are not a test. They should be passed on to you or me directly so I can investigate. And, I do believe there will be more notes and veiled invitations to treachery.”

“What are you going to do to him if there are more notes?” Luke demanded, “What will you do when it’s not a test?”

“Nothing so long as he cooperates. He is in a good position to catch treachery and I want to keep it that way.”

When Luke still looked doubtful, she went on, “The Bazanne family of Lys have made their home in a storm-tossed part of the island. Lightning strikes that region frequently and has destroyed many a high manse. Do you know how the Bazanne family avoids any damage to their manse? They installed a tall metal rod at the top of their tallest tower that leads down to the ground. The lightning strikes the rod instead of the building and channels the power to the ground where it cannot do any harm. Aemond is a lightning rod for treacherous plots and I intend to make sure none of it strikes the Crown.

“And, if Aemond needs a little more persuading of my intentions, I have this little morsel which he may use when the Blackwoods arrive for their trial.”

She drew out a small folded piece of paper sealed with wax.

“Don’t open it yourself. Only Aemond’s eye must see it. It’s a very valuable secret and I don’t want people incapable of keeping them to see.”

Luke scowled but pocketed it all the same.

“Just…just make sure the Blackwoods don’t get punished too much. And that Aemond is safe. Can you do that?”

“I can do what I can do.”