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Chapter Text

In their absence from the capital much has changed. Aegon II is still unmated, due to being the only living Omega, and the first to be born after the fall of old Valyria. Omegas are ancient Targaryen Treasures. More proof that Targaryen’s are more than just mere men and closer to gods. Even back in Old Valyria omegas were rare and few in between, believed to be blessed, magic, and more deeply bonded to dragons.

There are many lore that support such beliefs as well. They would be given to the mightiest Targaryen men, their children believed to hold in their hands' greatness. Most of the famous Kings and Knights were born from an omegan womb. Deemed more demanded of than even dragons, omegas were forbidden from weddings outside the Targaryen line.

Omegas are men, with the strength of man, yet the ability to carry children like a woman. Given their own class and held to the highest estimate. Born with patches of dragon scales that produce a unique scent, scent glands they are called. Sharpened canines, sharper nails, meaner spirits, and more feral in all they desire.

Lore suggests there is no bond so beautiful as an omega and their bonded dragon’s. There is no greater honor in a dragonborn than to breed an omega with their seed. Daemon feels the irony that the first proof of their actual existence, the first omega born in Westeros is the least Targaryen of all his brother’s children.

Out of Rhaenyra, Helaena, Aemond, Aegon, and Daeron, Aegon is the most Hightower of all. A sniffling, whiny little thing. Mean, nasty, and cruel. A whore meant for the brothels on the Street of Silk along with his bitch of a mother. Daemon remembers a time when he would mock the boy’s existence to make Rhaenyra laugh.

Alicent had hid his dragon scales until he was ten, worried it was a mutation, like all the Targaryen stillborn. That is when they found he would grow to be an omega, a fact that at the time had intrigued Daemon. After all there is nothing, he loves learning about more than their own blood.

For a brief time, Viserys had been enraptured with his son and his presentation, but it had not lasted long when it was clear Rhaenyra was uncomfortable with it. HighTower's are not kin from Old Valyria. So, they do not hold the traditions and folklore of the time to very high opinion, finding Aegon’s presentation distasteful.

Naturally this put the boy at odds with both sides of the family. To pathetic for his dragon blood and nature, but far to dragon for mere men. Daemon had no idea if Aegon is the reason Aemond was betrothed to his sister, or it had been Viserys' idea.

Part of him hoped it was his brother’s idea to keep the Hightower spawns from gaining any more allies through marriage. Though he did not know if his brother thinks in that manner. Perhaps Viserys still believes everyone will just kneel to his daughter. No matter, Daemon will make them kneel or he’ll remove their heads.

Daeron, Alicent’s youngest spawn, was shipped off to Oldtown to squire under his cousin or uncle, or something. Aemond and Helaena are married with twin children, a boy and girl. Aegon wastes away in the drink and the bed of whores. Except during his heats, he is locked away like a prisoner. A fact Daemon likes to imagine.

Rhaenyra and he live at Dragonstone, with their own children Jacaerys, Lucerys, Joffrey, Baela, Rhaena, and their two together, Aegon III and Viserys II. After their marriage Viserys forbade them from returning to King’s Landing, that was six years ago. He has finally invited them back to deal with the heirship of Driftmark.

They are both aware only the King has the power to nullify a marriage but are counting on Viserys’ softened heart after meeting their true born babes. Rhaenyra is now worried Viserys may not take kindly to Aegon’s name. It is a way to solidify her claim and a slight toward Alicent.

He must admit Aemond looks grown, built into a proper future knight, with an adoring wife and beautiful white-blonde haired children. Even from an outsider's perspective, Aemond is everything Aegon should be and more. All through the Driftmark debacle the oldest of the Cunt’s children remained in a drunken stupor, not responding to Daemon beheading someone at all.

Alicent had declared that they should discuss something as a family now that Viserys felt strong enough to get out of bed. He looks worse than when he last saw him, drastically so. A slow poisoning Daemon would bet, though he doubts he could ever get his brother to see reason. Perhaps it is time they step in and return to the capital. At the very least to save his brother.

“I think it is high time that we discussed Aegon’s coupling. He is twenty now, far older than any of the other children, and he has not been given a betrothed.” Alicent starts as soon as the dinner is placed before them. This line of conversation makes Aegon spit out his drink and Helaena reaches over to pat his back.

“Is he not already married?” Viserys asks, looking over at Aegon with mild interest and then his eyes sweep to Aemond. For a brief and glorifying moment, Daemon wonders if his brother has forgotten which of the boys is which.

“He is not. He is an omega, so we’ve been waiting on your decision.” The cunt huffs as if Viserys is daft, which he is gravely ill, the bitch. This information seems to strike some thought in his brother’s mind.

“Ah, yes, my dragon son,” he snorted at his own joke. Jace and Luke give boyish, mean laughs making Aemond and Aegon glare daggers at them in warning.

Daemon has no question that Viserys’ sons would beat Rhaenyra’s own boys into the dirt like peasants who have never drawn a blade. He would never allow this to happen, but it is a strange thought all the same. Of course, he knows why. Nyra loves her sons and shows them that deep affection that one can only get from their mother.

While the Cunt’s sons have no such affections, neglected, abused, and forgotten they have grown to be rougher, mean, more spiteful than their nephews. The dislike between one another, yet the deep-rooted loyalty. If he was speaking of anyone else’s children, he might even compare Aegon and Aemond, to his brother and himself.

“Have we thought about his options?” Viserys asks, looking between Otto, Alicent, and Aegon himself. Though the boy has already begun drinking before the dinner even started and looks barely awake.

“Well, if we stand on your traditions then he must marry a Targaryen. Daeron and Lucerys are still too young, with Lucerys already being promised to Princess Rhaena. Jacaerys is of age to marry, but he has been betrothed to Baela…” Otto, the wrench, begins. “...with the knowledge that Jacaerys was born from a woman Targaryen and not the seed of one, it is unclear rather he would even be able to impregnate Aegon.”

The topic of Jacaerys’ dragon blood causes the room to fall tense. He is not outright calling Jace a bastard, but it is heavily implied. Aegon looks ill at the mention of being impregnated. Daemon takes a swig of wine to wash away the need to behead the man across the table. Rhaenyra’s hand on his own to calm him doing very little.

“Aemond has already married Helaena and produced heirs, same with Daemon and Rhaenyra. This does not really leave us with many options.” Alicent finishes off looking to Aegon and back to Viserys. Daemon is unsure of the end game here, wondering if they are trying to goad a fight or simply really do not know what to do with the boy.

The best outcome is to marry Jace to Aegon, that way they can still use the blessing with Rhaenyra’s future descendants. But Nyra just betrothed Jace and Baela, allowing the Velaryon’s offspring to one day sit the throne as well. Rhaenys and Corlys may not accept this new development, which could cause issues. Which could ultimately be their end game.

“Aegon the Conqueror had two wives and nullifying marriages to allow Omega’s their rightful husband was common practice. Their options and of course waiting till Daeron is of age is always a viable option as well.” Viserys grunts looking over at Aemond and Helaena, both of whom stiffen.

“I’m not marrying Daeron! He’s my baby brother!” Aegon sounded disgusted at the thought. His speech is slurred and annoyed, he sounds like a petulant child. Daemon waits for his brother to put his son in line.

“Who would you choose then? Jacaerys or Aemond?” Daemon had not been expecting Viserys to actually ask Aegon.

He certainly never had with Rhaenyra or himself. Jace tries to slide further in his chair, Baela holding his hand in comfort. Helaena is chewing on her lip and looks close to tears staring at the table. He can tell that the pair truly love one another, and she is the purest of them all. Aemond is clearly good to her and treats her and their children well.

“Daemon.” Aegon spits with a jerk of his thumb toward him. This makes Daemon look up in confusion, waiting for his nephew to ask him something or make a statement. None come and it takes everyone a few minutes, nearly an eternity, to realize Aegon was naming Daemon as a betrothed.

“What is with my children and their obsession with my brother,” Viserys hisses in annoyance looking over at him with a deep frown like he did something to cause this. Like he tempted the boy. Fuck that.

“I’m married.” He snapped at the little waste of breath.

“Ha, so is Aemond and he is a contender.” Aegon shrugs at Daemon though his eyes never leave his father.

“Choose…” Aegon does not let Viserys shoot him down or allow his own mother to protest.

“Think about it. You made Aemond and Helaena marry, it would be quite hypocritical to then force them apart or make my dear sister share. On the other hand, Daemon and Rhaenyra went against your orders, marrying despite being denied this right. You would punish Helaena for obeying and reward Rhaenyra for disobeying.” The room is deathly quiet as Aegon speaks. His own anger comes through with every word. The. fucking. little. shit.

“You speak of love, devotion, and yet you would choose Rhaenyra’s happiness over ours? You asked who I want, I want Daemon. Being an omega means I deserve the best of the best. Jacaerys, Aemond, Lucerys, and Daeron are all green. They have never seen battle, have no wars won, where do they deserve an omegan mate?”

“I…surely…Jacaerys…” Viserys looks uncertain looking between Rhaenyra and his younger three children. He has always chosen Rhaenyra over the other four and Daemon hopes more than he can say that continues his favoritism.

“Then there's the matter of Rhaenyra’s inheritance. You wish for her to sit the throne.” This topic sends the entire room into a new level of tension, Daemon can see Otto and Alicent on the edge of their seats. “Why have your daughter sit the throne when you could have two of your sons together. Should I marry Aemond, we would have a stronger claim to the throne and something the other houses may take to heart.”

Daemon cannot tell if this boy is threatening war right now, but Viserys is ready to pull his dagger out and gut his own son to defend his daughter’s honor, her claim.

“But if I were to marry Daemon, not only would I be forced to submit to him, but this would also force me, your first-born son, to her side and it would eliminate me for the claim of the throne. It would also allow her to marry another powerful house and gain more allies. By marrying Daemon and I it would remove any chance of a fight or war later on.”

Otto looks like he is ready to murder the boy, a clear sign that Aegon thought of this on his own. It is not a scheme to usurp Rhaenyra, it is Aegon’s way to stop the usurping from happening. Aemond would not be able to claim a right to the throne over Rhaenyra as long as Aegon lives, and by being bound to Daemon he would be forced to remain loyal to her through him.

“So, which is more important to you Sister, your husband or your crown?” That one he directed right at Rhaenyra, his eyes still unfocused, not sober, but not gone either. She glares back and then looks pleading eyes at her father.

Daemon can see the decision in Viserys' eye before he says anything. He sees that his brother is going to take the side of the Cunt’s spawn. Can see that his brother is going to force him to marry someone he does not desire, again!

“Brother…” “Father…” “Viserys…” “Your Grace…” Otto, Alicent, Rhaenyra, and Daemon all spoke at once, but the King raised his hand.

“Your brother is right. Rhaenyra you must choose,” Viserys stares at her hard, and Daemon watches his wife look to her son who flinches and gives his own pleading eyes not to be thrown under the sword.

Then their eyes meet and the two must communicate without words. They cannot afford to lose the throne, not now, not after everything. He promised to get her on the throne at any cost, the cost may be greater than he anticipated, but a sacrifice he would make. After all, anything could kill a drunk Prince.

Childbirth is a very dangerous endeavor after all. Killing an Omega or the child of an omega will bring a hundred-year curse upon one’s family. But dying in childbirth is not murder. If he did not give Aegon’s body rest, one child right after another would wear the body down. Omegas need more rest time than women.

If he ensured that Aegon was pregnant every single heat, the boy might die within a few years. They can always remarry and still enjoy each other’s company while they wait. He will be her hand and stay by her side. This is a sacrifice the two can make for the greater good, for Rhaenyra. He can bed the bane of his existence and the poorest excuse for a Targaryen if it is for her.

“I’ll marry him.” Daemon announces evenly and Rhaenyra nods in agreement. After all, Aegon set this up to hinder his own side and benefit them. The more children Daemon can get from him, the more dragon riders they will have, the more dragon riders the more dragons.

Jacaerys is her heir, and they already have two Trueborn sons together. He will not care for the new children as he does for the ones he has with Rhaenyra, but they will come in handy. Would Alicent really attack her own grandchildren? Even if she would, they can use them once they are old enough as Knights to fight.

There is chaos around them at his statement. Their children are all yelling in uproar and Otto’s rage breaks through the cracks, calling Daemon a demon and a pervert. Alicent’s own anger seems to be directed toward Aegon. Aegon for his part is looking at Daemon in confusion. Perhaps he had only meant to ruffle feathers, not expecting it to work.

Either way, it is far too late. Viserys slams his fist on the table, silencing the room once more. With that the King finds out when Aegon’s next heat is, six nights from now. They will be married the day of the heat, to ensure that consummation can happen the same night.

Though he declares that Rhaenyra and Daemon’s marriage will be nullified first thing in the morning. Despite the fact that she is currently pregnant with their third child. Viserys assures them both that the child will still be legitimate in the eyes of the law by his rule. Jace asks why Daemon cannot just marry them both, instead of the nullification. Nyra explains much later when they are alone that it would not look good for a Queen’s consort to have a second ‘wife’. And it would give more argument for Aegon and Daemon’s children to sit the throne over Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey.

After Viserys heads to bed the night takes a more violent turn with Luke getting on Aemond’s nerves. It is not long before he is calling the boys 'STRONG’ and causes a bit of mischief. Though Daemon understands this is Jace’s fault for dancing with Helaena.

He watches his nephews both easily shove down their younger nephews. Jace and Aemond are far too close in age for him to be able to push Jace with one arm like that. The young man really does remind Daemon of himself when he was younger. Aegon barely does anything, slamming Lucerys into the table to keep the fight one on one.

“Wait. WAIT.” Is all it took to quiet and round all the boys up. He cannot help his amusement at Aemond, but it is short lived. After turning to smile at Rhaenyra he sees Aegon out of the corner of his eye watching them closely.

Once he and Nyra are alone in their room, they discuss the marriage. How she will allow him to bed Aegon only during his heats to reproduce children. She agreed with his notion to produce more dragonriders for their side, though he chose to keep his plan of killing Aegon in such a brutal way to himself.

She makes it clear she would nullify his and Aegon’s marriage once she is Queen, and they will be remarried. But before that he must give Aegon a child, so there is no question he is not a full man. After all this is not Valyria, it's Westeros. And Westeros does not take two men together kindly, especially if he is abandoned by his husband. Not a treasure, just a broken relic.

Chapter Text

The morning after the decision Rhaenyra and Daemon’s marriage was nullified before the ‘gods’ of the seven. After that the wedding preparations began, and he was disgusted with how Hightower it all felt. Aegon had as much to do with the preparation as he did. Which is none at all, he spent the next few days avoiding Daemon and his side with a passion, drowning in ale and whores.

The only times he sees Aegon even remotely sober is during breakfast. Two nights after the Driftmark scene Daemon walked into a breakfast moment he did not know what to do with. It had been Aegon laughing, musical and happy, a sound he has never heard from his nephew, or at least not since the boy was a toddler.

Aegon sat on the bench, his back to the table and holding his happy niece. Jaehaera is a fit of giggles, chuckles, and squirming as he flips her about while Jaehaerys climbs on his back. He seems to be good with children, which is completely predictable since he still acts like one himself.

Though the lore surrounding Omegas predominantly talks about their nurturing and childlike nature. Their love and devotion to children. Many Omegas who mate men with prior children are said to take those children in as theirs as well. Not that they would ever find out, since Daemon and Nyra have no desire to allow Aegon around the boys.

Aemond and Helaena are seated opposite him, whispering amongst themselves. Helaena swollen with child, their third on the way. Aegon does not look at Nyra’s horde of children or Daemon as they enter, still too distracted. He places Jaehaerys on the floor whispering something in his ear before the boy is off on his task.

Aegon has gone back to flipping his niece when the boy returns with a giggle, demonstrating the string he holds. They all look over when a Lord in the corner speaks in a hushed tone with Otto gasps as his breeches try to fall. Everyone laughs as the man departs from the room and Daemon watches Aegon hide the string under his thigh to save his nephew.

“Jaehaerys, Jaehaera!” Alicent’s sharp voice breaks into the morning's pleasant mood turning it sour as both children jump to attention. She ushers them both over to the children’s table where Nyra put Aegon the Younger and Viserys the Second. “That is no way for a Prince to act. How many times must I tell you to treat them with more decorum?”

Aegon groans as she begins lecturing him, all happiness and mirth dies on his face. He reaches behind him grabbing a gauntlet of ale and downs it before requesting more wine. The room is tense all around. Viserys does not manage to get up for it either. Jace and Luke whisper with Baela and Rhaena. Nyra keeps her eyes on the little ones.

Daemon finds himself studying their enemies. Aemond is eating small bites and looking uncomfortably between his brother and mother. Mother’s boy he would guess, probably since he lost his eye, and she could do nothing about it. Helaena is drifting off into her own world, playing with her food as much as eating it. She is off, he supposes it happens sometimes with their heritage.

Aegon is drowning himself in the drink, not stopping to even breath between drinks now that his joy has been sucked away. Otto had not bothered to endure the room, he simply left demanding a maid carry him a plate to his room. Alicent is trying not to look at Nyra and making sure to glare at Aegon every few moments.

“FINISHED! Uncle,” The twins both jumped up to run back to Aegon, who turned to them with a smile. Alicent did not give him the chance to speak. She ordered a maid to take the twins to the nursery to play before their lessons. Daemon raised an eyebrow at the clear order to not allow Aegon around them.

“He only wishes to play with them,” Helaena tries to defend her brother, but her voice is weak and facing the table.

“I don’t want his unroyal habits to pass onto them,” Aegon snorted going back to his drink before standing and heading out the door. Sunfyre roars somewhere in the distance and without really having seen the dragon Daemon recognizes his cry. Probably feeling Aegon’s frustration.

He does not see a scene like that one again and before long it is the day of their wedding. He has never hated his own life as much as he did at that moment. Their wedding is nothing compared to his rushed ceremony with Nyra, and despite how big and lavish Alicent tried to make it, it is still a disaster.

Aegon spends the entire evening so drunk he can barely stand. Daemon for his part spends it at Rhaenyra’s side. He stood before the Iron Throne and his King; he placed his cloak over Aegon’s shoulders when Aemond walked him down the aisle. Hell, he even kissed the cunt’s spawn, a nasty clash of teeth and a sharp bite causing the little dragon’s lower lip to bleed.

The worst part of the entire ceremony was finding out that Aegon does not speak High Valyrian. While he clearly understood certain words Viserys used, he clearly did not understand everything and had pieced together a broken answer. Viserys had looked just as shocked as Daemon felt at finding out the eldest son to the King could not speak their native tongue.

After the sham of a ceremony, they went to the party bit where Aegon has not gone without a drink in hand, slouched in the ‘bride’s’ chair. Daemon has not spent more than a second or two in the groom’s seat, choosing to stand and watch the dancing. He even danced with Rhaenyra for three straight songs to prove a point to his brother and his bitch of a nephew.

He could feel Alicent’s murderous intent. Aemond had danced with Aegon in retaliation. Though he is not sure what it was meant to accomplish. Perhaps to embarrass him, dancing with his bride, but Daemon could not care less about what common men thought of him. Besides it was clear Aemond had to control the entire dance due to Aegon using his brother for support against his drunken stance.

“Ask your Omega to dance. Now.” Viserys hisses when Nyra and he walk over to greet him. He is glaring at Daemon, and he sighs. Despite them all feeling distaste toward Aegon. That does not take away that the boy is Viserys’ son, his brother’s son.

Daemon looks over where Aegon is watching Aemond and Helaena dance. He looks miserable, forcing gulps of drink into his throat, as he watches the merriment around him. The more he studies Aegon the more he thinks the boy really did not think the King would give him to Daemon. Probably a childish move to irritate.

After checking with Nyra, he heads toward his ‘wife’. As he gets closer, he can see Aegon is very flushed, sweating, and breathing irregular. He is almost hesitant, not wanting the boy to be sick on him. That is when he remembers why they were getting married that day. Aegon is in heat, is probably very uncomfortable and suffering.

Aegon’s tunic is white with trims and designs of gold, it hangs in front of his crotch and over his arse, down to his ankles. His white breeches match and are puffy. Daemon wonders if the fabric is enough to hide any wetness the boy may be experiencing. He is currently itching the back of his neck.

One of the scale patches, the biggest one, the bonding patch is on the back of his neck. It is perfectly circular and the slightest gold. It almost looks like skin, but when it catches the sunlight, it is clear as day. Dragon scales. Golden dragon scales. During their ceremony, after placing the cloak on him, Daemon had leaned over him and fit his teeth around the patch.

To Daemon’s shock his teeth fit perfectly around the circle. When he bit down hard enough to break the skin, he could see his teeth marks making a perfect barrier around the patch, as if protecting it. It bled a lot, all down his cloak. The cloak Aegon is still wearing. It is red and too dark to see the blood. Tonight, when he takes Aegon he is expected to bite him in the exact same spot once again.

Aegon is still scratching at the patch when Daemon walks up to him. The amethyst eyes stare back at him with uncertainty, not breaking contact, though he does stiffen. Scared. He is scared of Daemon, another reason why the little shit should not have named him. It is a justified fear, Daemon reasons, after all he has no intention of being kind to him tonight.

He will fill the bitch with his seed and then head back to Nyra to wash the boy off of him. Daemon does not plan on doing any of this gently or with any care. Aegon is known for being a whore, so it should matter very little how he treats him.

“It is expected of us to dance, at least once.” He clarifies and holds out his hand to help Aegon up. The boy for all his fear actually scoffs at Daemon.

“No,” He squirms some more, and Daemon wonders if the boy can even stand right now. The unworthy Targaryen is so full of the drink and unstable by his heat, he is probably seeing stars.

None of that quells Daemon’s instant anger at the cunt for denying him after forcing them into this union. He grabs Aegon’s wrist and jerks him to his feet. The boy cries out against his chest where he lands. He is half bent over, clutching his stomach in pain.

“You must be in pain,” Daemon whispers cruelly in his ear. “We cannot leave and take care of you until we dance.”

Aegon looks up at him pleadingly but eventually nods and follows behind Daemon toward the dance floor. Without warning, upon hitting the dance floor, Daemon jerks around and catches an off guard Aegon pulling him into a brutal spin. He cries out again and clings to his uncle.

Daemon is on the verge of doing it again or ‘accidentally’ stepping on Aegon’s foot when he smells it. There is a sugary smell coming off of Aegon, along with smoke, fire, and for some reason sweets. It is a strange mixture of smells that make Daemon feel lightheaded for a moment.

In the way of dancing all they were really doing was swaying back and forth, Daemon struck by the scent and Aegon too far gone to really handle his own weight. With more willpower than he is sure most men would have, he drops Aegon into the nearest seat and heads back to Nyra’s side. Once he is leaning on her table with a drink in hand, he looks back over at his “beloved”.

Aegon is hunched in on himself in his chair, clutching his stomach and looks close to losing it. Morse Lannister, a side cousin to the Lannister line, takes an interest in Aegon, watching him closely. Daemon knows this because the man is seated at the table where Daemon dropped Aegon off. Perhaps if he does nothing and Morse takes Aegon to bed then his obligation is negated.

There will be no expectation for him to still want Aegon when Morse takes him on his wedding night. Daemon looks over at Viserys to enlighten his brother, but the man is gone. Most likely off to bed. The party should be stopping soon, despite it looking in full bloom. He lets his eyes sweep back over to see the side-Lannister gripping Aegon’s wrist.

The white haired one looks like he is trying to get the other to let go. This does little with how weak Aegon would be at the moment. Not to mention he never trains unlike the Lannister who is a full grown, seasoned fighter. When he stands, he pulls Aegon with him, making the boy panic.

No one is paying them any mind. Everyone is either too drunk or distracted by their own chosen night mates. Lannister is using his entire body to block Aegon from Aemond’s view as well. Aemond is probably the only Lord or royal in the room who would willingly help Aegon. Technically it is the knights’ jobs, but none of them are really looking that way.

Aegon clearly tries to call out for his brother but is not heard over the noise in the room. Daemon watches all this, watches a clearly drunk Lannister force Aegon to turn around to sniff and lick at the patch on his neck. The boy’s scream is drowned out by a dragon’s roar as it slams into the wall.

Within minutes the entire room is silent, Sunfyre’s angry cries echoing all around as another slam hits the wall. Everyone is looking toward Daemon and Nyra, most likely believing the dragon is one of theirs. However, Aemond has started moving about the room looking for his older brother.

Lannister makes it out of the room before anyone really notices he did anything. Aegon is on the ground now, curled into a tiny ball clutching painfully at the back of his neck. Aemond helps him to his feet and takes him from the room, Helaena right behind them. Daemon is spiteful, he thinks Aemond and Helaena should have just taken their useless brother as their own.

Unfortunately letting Lannister rape his useless nephew is no longer an option, so Daemon sighs. He gives Nyra a look before heading out after his ‘bride’. It only takes a few seconds to find the three of them, Aegon is leaning against a wall crying. Aemond looks generally annoyed, like he finds his brother to be a nuisance and unworthy as everyone else finds him.

“Wife.” He spits the word to get their attention. Aemond moves instinctually in front of his brother, hating him but still wanting to protect him. Familiar loyalty, built into their very core.

He does not back down. After a snort at Aemond’s gall he steps forward keeping eye contact with that one piercing eye as he pulls Aegon from behind him toward his chest. Once his nephew is slumped against his chest he looks down at the patch of scales, an angry red now, compared to the gold from before.

With a huff of being put out he leans forward and runs his tongue against the scales. Aegon calms in his arms as he licks and rubs the patch. Before he can ask if the brat is done crying, Aegon groans and bends over to grab his stomach again. Daemon sighs as he hikes his shoulder against the boy’s abdomen and hauls him up walking away from Aemond and Helaena. Neither can stop him.

Chapter Text

Daemon throws Aegon on the bed roughly and does not give him time to adjust to this new situation before he rips off his clothes. On the thicker layers he uses his dagger, not stopping when he ‘accidentally’ nicks Aegon’s thigh or hip. Aegon is whining, demanding he stop, or slow down.

He does not listen.

He wants to get this over as quickly as possible. Aegon is sobbing, it is hard to tell if it is from the event that just happened, the cramps, or Daemon’s treatment of him. Though the reason matters very little to him.

“Please…stop…Uncle…please…” Aegon sobs into his arm, as Daemon forces his face into the bed, his arse up and his leg spread wide.

It is easy to untie his breeches and pull his cock free without removing a single article of clothing. As he lines up to Aegon’s hole he feels his irritation beginning to peak at the boy’s continued cries and pleas. He shoves his left fingers, all four of them into Aegon’s mouth deep to shut him up. This pulls him up off the bed as he buries himself to the base in one motion.

“Shut up, you asked for this. Demanded it. You wanted me, Nephew, forced this upon me. Well, I’ll teach you what that means,” He sneers at the boy who chokes. As his throat contracts at the coughing motion, he shoves his fingers deeper. Aegon claws at his wrist drawing blood, but that does little to deter him.

Daemon gives himself a second to worry about the fact he is hard as a sword for Aegon, but he pushes the thought away. After all, Aegon is a Targaryen, his brother’s child, a white-haired, amethyst eyed beauty. And he is beautiful.

In a more elegant and refined way than Rhaenyra, soft, baby faced, submissive in ways she could never be. This thought makes his hips thrust harder as Aegon struggles to breath around his fingers. That is when he scrapes the top of his mouth and feels a patch of scales. Just like the one on the back of his neck, Daemon feels more liquid fill his mouth, soaking the fingers face-fucking him.

There is nothing gentle or kind about this fucking, he is pounding hard into the boy’s body. Shocked by how wet Aegon truly is. Far too wet to tear him despite Daemon’s rather girthy size. Yet the tightest heat he has ever entered. Blood joins his saliva in coating Daemon’s fingers and for a moment he thinks his nails cut him.

However, as he jerks his fingers away after Aegon came with a scream. He had been biting him. Daemon looks at his own bleeding fingers in annoyance, but he does not have the time to focus on that. Aegon trembles as he comes, each time squeezing Daemon hard and making him gasp.

With a huff he drops his hand onto Aegon’s shoulder blades and pushes him into the blankets, using his other hand to hold up his hips. The slap of skin, Aegon’s desperate moans mixed with his sobs, still falling from his eyes and throat, echo around the room. When he feels his own release trying to approach, he pushes his hand up, tangling his fingers in Aegon’s hair brutally and pushing.

Daemon is fully aware Aegon cannot breathe at the moment as he pounds in him five more times before he releases with a snarl and leans forward biting down hard on the back of his neck. His teeth impossibly land in the exact same spot as they did during the ceremony. Once he finishes Cumming he lets go and watches his nephew jerk up gasping for air desperately.

He slowly moves his hips experimentally, the sugary scent increasing and filling his lungs. Daemon feels close to feral as he rocks to test his cock. Then he slaps his hand hard down on Aegon’s left arse making him whine and try to crawl away. There is no mistaking that Aegon is not the biggest fan of pain, yet Daemon pulls him back by his hip and hits him again.

The second hit lands at the top of his arse closer to his lower back. This gets him an actual cry and more pleas to stop. Something in his chest tightens, but he ignores it all the same and hits him again, this time on his ribcage. A handprint appears and he has no doubt it will bruise.

“Sorry…please…I’m…sorry…” Aegon begs out, curling his arms over his head more protectively. “Please…Uncle…”

Daemon snorts at the apologies making Aegon flinch, though he does stop hitting him for now. Deciding he has had enough of this position he pulls out which gets him another devastated whine. He frowns at the brat’s mixed signals and emotions.

He pushes his nephew onto his side, pulls up his right leg, straddling his leg, Daemon pushes back in and relishes in Aegon’s long relieved gasp. As the sugar fills his nose, he realizes that is what is keeping him hard, and it is to ensure that the Omega’s needs are met. This heat could last an entire week, though he has no intention of spending more than a night with Aegon.

This time he rocks slowly, more firmly, not gentle but not brutal either. He does this to watch the difference. Aegon is still sobbing like a bitch, but his eyes are half lidded and his body is rocking back in time with his own. His hands are fisted in the blanket beneath him.

He reaches for Daemon, and he thinks he is going to try and kiss him. Something that will cost him his tongue, but he does not grab Daemon’s neck, shoulder, or face. Instead, he grabs his hand and pulls it back into his mouth before he starts sucking him like a babe to the teet. He pushes his own fingers deeper till he feels that patch of scale and Aegon cries out, shuttering.

Just to test his own theory from the moment previous he lets his other hand land hard on Aegon’s thigh. Just like before he cries out the same, cries more, and gasps. The look on his face is not one of pain or disgust, he looks at Daemon from the corner of his eye and pushes himself more forcefully on his uncle’s cock.

“Sorry…” Aegon says again once Daemon removes his fingers. “Sorry…please…” He withers around some more and finally he realizes why Aegon was apologizing. Cumming. The fucking sex fiend had been apologizing for Cumming. He is covered in his not-seed. It is a clear, sticky substance and it is soaking his stomach, thighs, and the bed under him.

Daemon pulls Aegon’s arm to his face and bites over the scent patch on his wrist. He has them on each wrist and on the webbing next to his thumb. That patch he sucks into his mouth causing Aegon to gasp and wither some more, and when he bites down, he cums again.

Aegon is definitely nothing like Rhaenyra. So submissive, depraved, and used to being treated like a proper whore. Daemon cums with grunt at the thought. Just like the first time, his Cock remains firm. He leans forward, grabbing Aegon’s jaw aggressively and pulls him closer, as he bites on his neck, nosing behind his ear. There he finds another patch of dragon scales.

“Daemon…” Aegon gasps and Daemon looks at him with a grunt. The boy turns his head licking at his chin and whining into his face.

“Do. Not. Call. Me. That.” He snarls back at him and Aegon flinches, as Daemon flips him back to his stomach.

“Makes you think of your…” He groans as he speaks. Getting some of the fight back in him, his brattier side. “...your whore wife?”

Daemon pulls out and flips him over before shoving back in as he grabs Aegon’s throat. Aegon chokes and grabs at Daemon’s hand trying to stop him from squeezing him any harder. He is not looking at his uncle’s angry face instead he is fixing his sight to the ceiling. This only makes him squeeze harder and angrier.

“She is more than you will ever be, you are worthless, pathetic,” This does it, Aegon lets out a broken, wet gasp as he shuts down, even as his body sucks Daemon in his eyes turn off glazing over like a dead man. “Viserys should have cut you from your cunt mother’s womb.”

“...” Daemon loosens his grip, just. “Is... that who... You're imagining...I am…my sister or…my father?”

This time he clamps off Aegon’s airway and uses his other hand to hit the boy right in the face. Blood flows from his nose as he struggles under him, for real this time. Daemon can see the difference from when the fucking started.

Struggling to get Daemon off. The scent in the room sours, like cattle milk left out in the sun, a foul smell making him recoil. Aegon sucks in chunks of air desperately as he tries to shake his head clear. Though once he manages to get Daemon to release his throat, he does not seem to have learned his lesson.

“Sorry Uncle, perhaps it was your whore wife’s bastard son, you were wishing I was,” he sneers nastily, and Daemon hits him again. When that proves to not level his anger, he pulls out his breeches, grabs the boy by the back of his neck and forces him to his feet.

He yelps and nearly buckles, but Daemon is holding way too hard. After pushing the door open, he throws Aegon against the wall, he hears something break but pays it no mind. Without missing a beat, he orders both the Knights at the door to get their cocks out. This has Aegon looking up in panic.

“What’s wrong Nephew, I imagine this is the type of game you enjoy,” He shot back with a smirk.

“Omegas cannot bed…” He starts, but Daemon does not allow him this reprieve and mentally calls for Caraxes, knowing Sunfyre is only moments away from interrupting.

“Pull your cock out, or I’ll kill you and pull it out for you,” He suggested, as both knights hesitated. They both comply as Daemon forces Aegon on his feet and pushes him against the wall, ordering the first knight to fuck his ‘wife’. Promising the second his ‘wife’s’ mouth.

“Sorry, I’m really sorry Uncle. I didn’t mean it. I’ve a big mouth when I drink…” Aegon is trying to fight his grip as the knight struggles to align himself. “Please…please, I’m sorry. I’ll be good. I’ll…”

“Stop, step back.” He orders smoothly and the knight does so immediately, dropping his limp cock. It would have never gone in being so soft, but Aegon cannot see it nor knows that with the way he is shaking, practically vibrating out of his skin. “Do not ever imagine you have the power.”

Aegon nods and tries to make himself small in Daemon’s hold. With a huff he pulls him off the wall, as Sunfyre slams into the wall looking into the window at them. Caraxes hisses not far away, a warning.

“Don’t hurt him, please, please, I’ll fuck them!” Aegon’s tune changed instantly, “I’ll fuck whoever you want, I’ll use my mouth, please, please don’t hurt him.”

Sunfyre snarled and Caraxes answered the threat with one of his own. The two are mere moments from a fight, Daemon can feel it in the air. Caraxes would win, that Daemon has no doubt. He is seasoned, where Sunfyre is green. But Sunfyre is loyal and fierce, not to mention Vhagar is not far, and may come if Sunfyre screeches.

“I won’t hurt the dragon,” he says instead and more gently while Sunfyre watches and pulls Aegon back into the room. With a snort he shoves Aegon to the floor much like Aemond had with Jace at that dinner so many nights ago. Then he turns and leaves, leaves Aegon beaten, used, and sobbing. He does ensure the door is secured and orders the guards to keep their hands to themselves, not wanting to be accused should someone truly try.

Sunfyre is still at the window growling, ignoring Caraxes to snarl at Daemon. He pays it little mind as he heads back to Nyra. Now that he has filled him full of his seed, he need only wait and see if it stuck. If it does not, he will have another heat in a month, if it does stick, he will not. As soon as Aegon finished his heat, they would return to Dragonstone with the little shit in tow.

It is the next day that Aegon comes from his room looking worse for wear.
He walks right into the breakfast hall, his neck a deep black and purple. His nose bruised, along with his right eye. The rest of him is hidden under his clothes, he is even wearing his riding gloves.

“HOW DARE YOU!” Alicent screeches as Otto and Ser Cristen Cole all snarl toward Daemon. Aemond wraps his hand around his sword and looks Daemon dead in the eye. He is not scared of them and regrets nothing.

“I got attacked in Flea Bottom this morning for gold,” Aegon’s voice pierces through the tension and the entire room falls silent. Suddenly all the anger rushed from him and onto Aegon, all except Aemond who’s eye never leaves him.

“You went to Flea Bottom the morning after your wedding,” Alicent hisses standing and slapping Aegon right across the left side of his face, busting the split lip Daemon gave him during their ceremony.

“Does it matter? Uncle Daemon will bed my sister, and I’ll bed whores,” He shrugs as he walks around his mother to fall into his seat and grab a glass of wine. No one mentions that the sun has barely risen. “Everyone wins.”

Aegon ignores the blood as it slowly falls down his chin and he tips his head back to swallow the content of his goblet. When Otto asks, which knights were guarding him, he tells them that he snuck out alone after his heat finished. He makes sure all the blame for the injuries falls on him. Daemon watches all of this unfold in confusion and curiosity.

“I thought heats were supposed to last a week,” Aemond hisses in confusion and Daemon tries to ignore the very sour smell premeeting the room.

“No idea, you know more about Targaryen lore than I, brother.” Aegon merely shrugs it off. Daemon knows though he had not expected it to happen. If an omega is distressed enough, rejected, and heartbroken this can cause a heat to end prematurely or even cause one not to appear.

By the time they have the dragons and children ready to take off, Aegon is completely wasted. When he stumbles drunk into the courtyard where the dragons are waiting Daemon growls and goes to grab him when Sunfyre springs forward and barely manages to miss taking Daemon’s arm off. Caraxes jumps forward hissing, this causes their other dragons to growl.

Sunfyre does not back down, snarling at them all, putting his body over Aegon for protection. While Sunfyre would lose, they are all in danger this close if a dragon fight breaks out. Nyra orders them all to call their dragons back, Aegon ignores her. Instead, he crawls onto Sunfyre’s back.

“Sunfyre, up.” Then the golden dragon is darting straight up and away. Sunfyre evens himself out very quickly when Aegon almost falls right off too drunk to hang on properly and he had not bothered to strap himself in.

As they all mount their dragons, Joffrey on Caraxes with Daemon and the babes with Nyra, they catch up. Daemon is genuinely shocked to find his nephew sleeping on his back without a care in the world, as Sunfyre is very careful with his movements to keep him on. No matter how good their relationship is, he has never seen that kind of trust and care from a dragon.

Dragons are not soft or gentle. Yet, Sunfyre is. He is nurturing and gentle with Aegon like a brother, a mother, family. Unsure if that is from Aegon training him that way or if it is due to his omega blood. It would be the first real demonstration outside of the heat indicating that Aegon was born different.

“Jaqiarzus” Joffrey bellows out in High Valyrian looking down at Aegon in wonder. Glorious. The seven-year-old thinks Aegon of all people is glorious is a laughable concept.

“Qringaomatan āzma,” Failed born. A true insult to his nephew, he spits it out for Joffrey to hear, but that only makes the boy frown.

“Isn’t he your wife? You should treat him nice, Kepa.” Joffrey whines against him in that childish way, irritating and yet adorable.

“Nyra is my wife, Aegon is my problem.”

“You said you would marry him. I remember.” He shot back, too quick with his words. Joffrey still does not understand the way the world works. Gentle and soft, like Leanor, despite not being raised by the man. Nyra’s own soft mothering is what is surely doing it.

Chapter Text

Five Months Later

Daemon groans as his mind demands he wakes up at the creak of his door. Rhaenyra stills next to him, also rousing at the movement. When he allows himself to blink awake it is to the sight of Aegon in the door frame, leaning on it watching them with an uncomfortable bite to his lip.

“Have you sent an assassin for me? Surely there are better ways…” He whispers, trying to be respectful, Daemon imagines. The pupils of his eyes have turned to slits, an interesting omega characteristic that happens whenever Aegon is forced to see Nyra and him being close.

Daemon lets his eyes roam down his omega, his ‘wife’. Aegon is swollen with their child, his stomach only slightly protruding. Not eating nearly enough to sustain the two of them and still partaking in wine. Officially Daemon has forbidden him from drinking while pregnant, but somehow the boy always manages to charm the maids into giving him one, which adds up when he does it to each maid.

“We didn’t send anyone to kill you, are you drunk?” Rhaenyra asks, rolling over to look at her brother. He looks away as he always does when she tries to meet his eyes. Daemon he’ll stare down, Nyra he is uncomfortable around.

“There is a man…wandering the hall around my room…I snuck out when his back was turned.” Aegon squirmed as he spoke, checking into the hall behind him to ensure there was no one following him. A knight is standing outside their room.

“Then grab any knight you see and have them escort you back to your room,” Daemon snaps, far too tired to deal with this boy and his cowardice. It is probably a knight out for a knightly stroll or a maester looking for a midnight drink.

“If you’ve sent a knight to kill me, it would be foolish to bring a second one.” He half-groaned, half-whined. Nyra believes half the boy’s ‘issues’ are just plots to get Daemon’s attention. He has been trying to ignore Aegon for the most part. Aegon for the most part, spends his days in Sunfyre’s nest curled up against him drunk on wine or hung over.

“We’ve not sent anyone to kill you, if I wanted you dead Omega, I would have slit your throat by now.” He growls in warning, feeling his skin grow cold when Aegon flinches and lets his eyes drop to the floor. Sometimes Daemon can feel their bond, in a way that is hard to deal with. It is there just under his skin, sometimes he can tell when Aegon is upset or worried despite being a castle away.

Sometimes like now, his body will respond to his own coldness toward his omega, as if punishing him for not being more affectionate. He has not told Rhaenyra or anyone else of these little omegan side effects. There is also the problem, he is almost completely sure that Aegon can feel his stronger emotions and that makes him dangerous.

They have not fucked since their wedding night, in fact, Daemon goes out of his way to pretend the boy does not exist. Despite Nyra commanding the boy to eat meals with them. A foolish attempt at peace and decorum considering she is still sleeping with his husband. Or perhaps she does it to torture her brother. Aegon eats little bites before Rhaenyra arrives but will not eat once she is in the room.

There is a strange thing happening in the last few months where Aegon and Joffrey have begun to bond. Something Daemon has been keeping an eye on, considering his stepchild is only seven. He is worried Aegon is wanting to bully the little one, but he has done no such thing.

Jace and Luke are constantly at odds with Aegon, surprisingly enough the boys tend to start more than the latter. Most likely due to being a prisoner in the lowest term of the word. No, Aegon is kind and plays with Joffrey when Nyra is not around to see. He gets Joffrey into proper mischief, teaching him things naughty older brothers often teach little brothers.

Like to saw off just the end of the maester’s chair leg so he falls when he sits. How to snort and sit improperly to annoy his mother. Rhaenyra cares little for her boys being all proper and graceful. She cares more for their well-being.

Daemon knows that with Rhaenyra preparing to be Queen, the brutal miscarriage she endured, having two little ones and two older ones to train, Joffrey gets the least amount of attention. Thus Aegon is probably a nice breath of fresh flying air. After all, Nyra and Daemon have ensured Aegon is never around the babies, and he hates the older boys.

Daemon ignores his existence, and he cannot stand to be around Rhaenyra. Which leaves all of Aegon’s attention on Sunfyre, wine, and little Joffrey. It is strange to witness how Aegon can bond so easily with a child he is meant to despise. After all, Joffrey has the same blood as Jace and Luke.

“Fine.” Daemon snaps when that pressure in his gut starts up at the defeated look of his omega. With a grunt he gets up and follows Aegon into the hall. He waves the knight’s curious gaze away.

As they make it back to the room he studies the boy’s body. Though he supposes he should say man. Aegon is twenty, even if he is shorter and softer than any man Daemon has spent time with. Certainly, compared to Daemon and Aemond. Lucerys still has that rounded softness due to being only four and ten, whereas Aegon never lost it.

Once they rounded the corner and Aegon’s room door came into sight he could feel his annoyance spike. There is no one in the halls wondering about it. Nothing creepy lurking around the corner. Not that Daemon is really that surprised.

“I swear he was just here,” Aegon whispers with a plea, as if it matters, as if Daemon believing him is very important. He only grunts in answer once more, clearly fed up and ready to return to Rhaenyra’s chambers.

That is when he hears it. Aegon is too distracted fretting about being lectured or Daemon being mad at him to notice. Thus, right before his nephew opens the door Daemon snatches his waist pulling him back. Quiet in the night, it is there. A small sound, like shuffling around within Aegon’s room.

Thankfully he had grabbed Dark Sister before leaving the room. Aegon’s night guard is not at his post, leaving the hall barren. He can certainly see why the young man’s immediate reaction is an assassination attempt. Who more would want him dead than the forced husband.

Though Daemon imagines if Aegon was killed then Otto could seat Aemond on the throne. Perhaps the attempt was coming from the other side. Not something Aegon would even consider.

With the silence he has built over the years, he nudges Aegon against the wall and out of the way. Then he thrust through the door prepared to take a blow. Ser Arryk stands before him whipping around to face him sword drawn. Ser Erryk comes out of the loo attached to Aegon’s room and looks between them.

Daemon makes a point to twirl Dark Sister in his hand as a warning and the twins look at him in shock. They look at one another trying to decide their next move. If they are here to kill Aegon, that means Otto will be trying to put Aemond on the throne.

“My Prince,” they both bow slightly at him.

This does little to stop his irritation. If they are here to kill Aegon, he cannot allow it now that they have seen him. Rhaenyra’s guard also saw him leave with a living prince. He doubts Viserys will take kindly to his son’s obvious murder without Daemon even trying to save him.

“What are you doing in Dragonstone?” He snarls at the brothers. “I’ll give you one chance to be truthful.”

“Did my grandsire send you to kill me? Or Aemond?” Aegon asks, looking into the room from behind him. Not so foolish about their intent then.

It seems that Aegon is aware his kin may well order his death. Neither side of this fight really wants the boy. Daemon does not want to care about that fact, but the side effect of being bonded to him makes it difficult to ignore.

“I’m sure if you ask nicely, Daemon will leave you to do your job.” Aegon adds on.

This makes Daemon’s spine shoot straight and he gives Aegon a nasty look. For his part, the little dragon only looks exhausted, deep purple under his eyes, and his hand gently rubbing his stomach. A habit he developed a while ago.

“Of course not, Prince Aemond and Princess Helaena have ordered us to check on your well-being, My Prince!” Erryk explains.

“The last they saw you; you did not look completely healthy…” Arryk adds, looking at Daemon out of the corner of his eye.

“You’ve come all this way, snuck into my room, just to see if I’m healthy?” Aegon does not sound convinced. Daemon is not either. It lacks a tactical plan or a cunning strategy that one would expect from Aemond.

“...” Neither twin speaks, clearly unsure of their answer.

“Speak. Now.” He orders with a growl. Unimpressed and unamused at being woken for this nonsense.

“They were unsure Prince Aegon would be truthful about his well-being, if you were present, My Lord.” They say this in unison.

“The Princess thought that you would be with Princess Rhaenyra…” Erryk supplies at the end. True, he had been. Smart girl.

“Go on then!” He spits, leaning against the wall and glaring at the two men. Both of them rightfully flinch and look frightful.

“Sir?”

“Ask him.”

“Um…how are you doing, Prince Aegon?” Arryk is the one who ends up asking, looking at his brother with confusion.

They are clearly uncomfortable, and Daemon is fully aware his presence negates this whole affair. But it is not as if he can just leave the two alone with Aegon. Afterall, while they stated they are here for his well-being. They could very much be here to end his life.

“You may report that; I’m alive. The pregnancy is going well. No one beats on me. I am being fed, clothed, and housed.” He answers coldly, still standing at the door.

Daemon has noticed that he has not entered the room. They are suspicious, and Aegon probably understands that this could still be an attempt on his life. His self-preservation skills seem to be working today.

After his answer Daemon orders both men to ride back to King’s Landing and report to their Masters. Aegon moves into the room, behind Daemon to allow the men to pass. They both look him up and down, most likely looking for any bruising or injuries. If their stories are to be believed.

Daemon makes his way back into the hall to watch them vanish around the first turn. If they go near the children’s rooms or Rhaenyra there will be a guard waiting for them. There is a guard stationed outside every one of the royal rooms. He looks down each side of the hall.

Aegon’s guard is missing.

Either Sir Ronin was taken out by the twins, tricked by them, or he intentionally left his post because he believed that the twins were going to kill Aegon. That would imply the guard wished for Aegon to die. Which could have been an order from one of the Greens or simply him trying to get on Rhaenyra’s good side.

It mattered little the reason. Daemon would be taking his head tomorrow once he is found. There is no reason someone should have been able to get into Aegon’s room without being spotted. No reason Daemon should have had to get out of bed for all of this foolishness.

That of course leaves the question how Aegon noticed the men outside his room but managed to slip past them to get to Daemon without being caught. Daemon realizes that Aegon was most likely not in his room at all and sees one of the twins while trying to return to his room.

Aegon has a nasty habit of sneaking wine at night to sleep with Sunfyre. Sometimes all night and sometimes until it gets too cold for his body to take. Once he feels that the twins are far enough away, he steps back into the room. Aegon is on his bed, sitting up with his legs drawn as close as his stomach will allow. His stomach is still too small.

“Do you think it is true? That they were checking on me.” Aegon sounds like he does not believe it.

But like he wants to, more than anything. Daemon can feel the desperation in his veins, can feel Aegon’s desire to be cared for beating in his own chest.

“I imagine that they were sent to kill you, but did not want to anger me.” Instead of feeding the boy false hope and allowing his guard to slip, Daemon tells him the truth.

This proves to be the wrong decision, because the scent sours all around him. That slight dash of hope, that someone loves him, vanishes. The room tastes of despair and loneliness. And for the first time since their wedding night, he truly sees his omega.

Aegon’s skin is pale and waxy, far too skinny for how far he is into pregnancy, sunken eyes with purple under them. Dirty, oily hair clinging to his forehead from the sweat. Shivers racking his thin frame. His nails have been chewed to the nub, blood long dried at the edges of them.

A walking corpse.

At this rate, it will take one child to get what he wants out of this marriage. One child and Aegon will not survive the pregnancy. The boy is staring at his own feet, picking at the skin. Scratching and pulling it till there are bruises and cuts covering the top. A nasty habit.

When Aegon seems to realize that Daemon has not left he looks up slowly. Not quite meeting Daemon’s eyes, staring at his chin instead. Too tired to challenge him tonight. Daemon is unsure if it is the pregnancy killing the omega or simply a sickness of the mind. Loneliness.

“You know,” He starts catching the other’s attention. “Children love their mothers without question, even when they do not deserve it.”

Daemon has no reason to comfort the boy. Aegon got himself into this mess. He did not have to name Daemon. He could have chosen Aemond. Could have made his own life easier. Sevens dragons, naming Jacaerys would have been easier on him than Daemon.

Yet, that pull, the bond demands he comfort him somehow. It seems to work, Aegon leans back a little to look at his own stomach. Rubbing it gently as he often does whenever Daemon catches a glimpse of him.

“Will you love me?” Aegon whispers it to his stomach in awe. Staring pleadingly and with all the desperation too great for an unborn babe.

He doubts the boy meant for Daemon to hear that. Daemon looks back to the door for a moment. Contemplates going back to Rhaenyra’s bed. Then he turns and walks over to Aegon’s. Setting Dark Sister in the corner closest to him.

Without a word, he crawls into the bed and pulls the blankets over his body. Still tired from the long day he settles to go back to sleep. Already preparing his mind for the irritating lecture he is going to receive tomorrow from Nyra.

“Uncle?” Daemon almost forgot that Aegon still calls him that. There is little else to call him, he has forbidden Aegon from calling him by his name and ‘husband’ is far too endearing for them.

“Shut up, and sleep, Aegon.” The boy’s name feels strange on his tongue. Unnatural. So used to insulting him or calling him cruel phrases.

He reaches over and pulls Aegon onto his back by his thigh, throws an arm around him and closes his eyes. Every muscle in the kid’s body is tense, waiting for something bad to happen. Then, slowly, he starts to relax, uncurling and pushing more into his arms. With the slowest movement Daemon has ever felt and all the carefulness possible Aegon moves Daemon’s arm more firmly around him.

Surprisingly, it takes but a moment for his breathing to even out and Aegon’s sweet scent to lure him to sleep.

Chapter Text

He wakes up to soft snores. A sound he has not awakened to before. Rhaenyra sleeps like the dead. Silent and on her own side of the bed. Where the person snoring is completely wrapped around him, legs and arms curled around his hip and torso.

The little dragon smells sweet, content, and purer than he has since his arrival. Last night he had been tired, weaker in his compassion than he is used to. It is the damn bond he knows, pushing for him to be soft with the other. He wants to grab that pale neck and squeeze the life from it to counteract his kindness last night.

But he has Daemon’s babe growing inside him. A Targaryen, his blood, his kin within the boy. He reminds himself that the child is just a pawn, nothing like Baela, Rhaena, Aegon the Younger, or Viserys II. His other four children were born of strong, beautiful women. Strong, courageous, impossibly glorious.

This new child will be born to the worst example of a Targaryen. Aegon the Unworthy, the whore, the drunk, the useless. No child produced from him will be a proper image of a Targaryen. That along with ‘his’ new babe being related to his brother’s cunt wife.

The boy whimpers in his sleep when Daemon struggles out of his grabby limbs. He is mumbling about Sunfrye, golden scales, and wine. Truly a useless child. A man in name only, with no ability in sword fighting, no history knowledge, and useless at anything to do with court. It is made painfully clear looking at Aegon that Viserys never once prepared him to sit the throne.

Viserys, his dear brother, truly believes the throne is Rhaenyra. Daemon has no doubt those that doubt her would change their minds if they merely spoke to her younger brother. It is not even a question that Aemond or even young Daeron could make better heirs than Aegon.

Fate gave the cunt and his brother Aegon first to ensure Rhaenyra’s rule. If Aemond had been older, perhaps a fight could have been made. But no one in their right mind would allow Aegon to rule, Daemon thinks the very thought is a laugh. This false marriage was unnecessary to keep the war away, who would follow someone such as ‘his’ omega.

Daemon thinks of striking him in his sleep but quells the desire when his eyes sweep off the protruding belly. Still too small for the length of pregnancy, much smaller than both the cunt and Rhaenyra had been with all of the children. Smaller than Aemma when she was pregnant with the boy who died.

Unhealthy. The boy is severely unhealthy living here, in body and mind. Daemon might not have to wait for the third or fourth child, Aegon may not survive this pregnancy. He ignores the pull in his abdomen at the thought, the pressure he feels itching throughout his limbs. This is what he wants. For the cunt’s son to vanish.

Daemon has to stop his hand as it hovers over that small belly. Ready to touch while he was lost in thought. His instincts screaming to protect, cherish. He turns away and leaves the room before he does something foolish, like feeling empathy for the boy.

With a deep sigh he stands at the window outside the dining hall, unsure what to do or say to Rhaenyra about last night. He should not have stayed; he should have returned to her bed. She is going to be angry, suspicious. His future Queen, not just his ‘wife’.

“Not as simple as hating him, then?” Rhaenyra’s voice pierces the silence, and she joins him at the window. Looking at the clouded sky and roaring ocean.

“There is much to hate.” he clarifies, but it falls flat in the wake of where he slept.

“There is also much to pity,” She snorts, wrapping her arm around his.

“I’m not one for pity. He is carrying my child.” Rhaenyra turns him toward her with a nasty look and self-confidence.

“No, he is not. He is carrying a Hightower; he is carrying a vessel. Your daughters are asleep in their rooms. Your sons, I gave you. This child is not yours, it's Aegon’s. He forced the child on you, so it is his burden to bear.” She hisses this at him.

He frowns but also agrees. There is no world where he should care for this babe. He had his children, two have grown and no longer need him. Viserys has always been the kinder of the two of them, the more family oriented, the more loving. He is the softer brother and even he could neglect his children.

Aemma died in childbirth, Laena died in childbirth, both stronger and fiercer than Aegon. Who already looks weak and ready to break. If by some miracle the boy survives this pregnancy, Daemon will give him another right after. The boy’s body will wither down and will give up.

“I would sooner see the cunt’s son dead, than happy. Nothing has changed.” He assures his paranoid Queen, but even he feels the uncertainty of the future. It would be better to be rid of the little dragon sooner, rather than later. Before this bond can have more time to warp his mind and manipulate his emotions.

They stand together, changing the topic to the happenings of Dragonstone and their duties. To Rhaenyra’s future reign and how the coronation should be handled. In the quiet of the morning they even talk about visiting Viserys again, sooner this time. Before he withers even further.

Perhaps Viserys will outlive Aegon, and his brother will be able to attend Rhaenyra and his wedding this time. It is a morbid thought that makes him chuckle, and his skin itch at the same time. He needs to find more information on the omega magic.

Together they start making their way into the dining hall, already starting to fill with family. Everyone usually gets to breakfast earlier than Rhaenyra, it's how the omega has time to eat before her arrival. Daemon has not arrived there with her since Aegon arrived at Dragonstone.

Before entering the hall, Daemon orders the guard at the door to find him Sir Ronin. Then the two pushed the door open. The boy was mid-bite when they opened the door, Joffrey laughing joyously at something Aegon must have said or done. Even Jacaerys and Lucerys look to be holding back laughter, smiles on both their faces.

The outsider has not noticed their entrance, his back to the door to talk to Joffrey. Little Joffrey grabs his bread and holds it over his nose and makes a face, making the table fall into laughter. Without having to check both Daemon and Rhaenyra know that Aegon taught him such childish and improper behavior.

“Joffrey!” Rhaenyra growled, making her son drop the bread quickly, the laughter dies. “I can see why your mother would not want you around the twins.”

This makes Aegon’s head whip around to look at her with true hate. His eyes have done that thing, where they turn into dragon eyes. Gorgeous, but still a threat, one Daemon cannot allow him to make. Should he say…

“Better childish and improper, than a woman who doesn’t know the place of one. A woman so DESPERATE to be King!” Right.

Daemon does not give Rhaenyra or Aegon a chance to argue further. He moves fast, focused. Without stopping in his stride, he jerks the omega from his seat by his elbow, pulling him behind him. Slams him into the wall, and grabs his neck with his right-hand squeezing, hard.

“You will hold your tongue.” He snarls right in the brat’s face.

His arm twitches and he looks at were, with a frown. Even his own body is fighting him not to hurt the other. Still if he does nothing it will be a sign that he would not defend Rhaenyra against his new forced ‘wife’.

While slightly distracted he is not ready for the cunt’s son to spit right on his left cheek. Daemon sees red. He pushes his hand up further forcing those pouty lips shut and cutting off any airflow. At first Aegon continues to glare daggers at him, but after a beat he grabs Daemon’s wrist, struggling slightly.

“STOP IT!” When Daemon ignores Joffrey’s outburst the boy throws his cup of milk at the man, hitting him on the hip. He looks to the side to see Rhaenyra grabbing Joffrey, keeping the boy from running at him. Little Joffrey, his Joffrey, is crying trying to get to the two of them to save this outsider.

With a hiss in warning Daemon releases Aegon. The little dragon gasps before sliding to the floor, coughing and sucking in breath. One of his hands holding his stomach protective. He even pulls his legs up as if Daemon would kick him in the stomach. His eyes still have those of dragon’s glaring up at him. Boy is brave, at least.

“Sit. Down.” He says this to Joffrey who freezes.

For the first time in his time with Rhaenyra and her boys, Jacaerys and Lucerys are tensely waiting, ready to defend their brother. Scared of him. Out of all three of Nyra’s boys, Joffrey has always been the most attached, having been around him since he was but a babe.

It is Daemon who raised that boy, whom he calls ‘Kepa’.

“That isn’t how you treat your wife!” Joffrey wells, finally pulling from Rhaenyra to stomp over and place himself next to the outsider. Aegon, for his part, does not look at the boy, never looking away from Daemon.

“My WIFE needs to learn some respect.” He snaps.

“Better than your whore!” The omega shoots right back, throwing his head toward Nyra.

It all happens in one fluid motion. Daemon goes to grab the boy’s hair. Joffrey throws himself between the two of them to protect Aegon. Without missing a breath, Aegon wraps his arms around the boy and pulls him to the side, out of the way. This forces Daemon to rethink his destination.

Watching Aegon protect Joffrey is a sight he never thought possible. Instead of grabbing him by the hair, he grips his upper arm forcing the little dragon to his feet. Joffrey and his stomach are both being angled away from Daemon. Once again, he feels irritated that those in this room believe he would ever hurt Joffrey.

“Jikagon naejot se qurdon rūsīr aōha muñnykeā!” Joffrey once again pauses at his words, though he looks at Aegon first.

The other nods and pushes Joffrey away. This time the boy listens, going to sit by his mother. While the room is still tense, his family all return to their seats, leaving only him and Aegon standing. His hand was still gripping the boy’s arm.

He is waiting to be struck, Daemon knows. Waiting to feel the sting of a wound, or to be pushed to the ground. Even with his nasty tongue and vulgar ways, Aegon is not so foolish to try fighting him. Both of the boy’s arms are wrapped protectively now around his stomach.

He has made no effort to ensure that the babe is healthy. Not eating enough, drinking, and yet in moments like this he is willing to fight for the unborn. Daemon grips his chin with his other hand raising his head to see his neck. Purple and blue dance on his skin in the shape of his hands.

“Sit.” He shoves the wavy haired boy toward the table, taking his own seat next to Nyra. Suddenly he feels too tired to deal with any of this. Aegon apparently got his bite back, though Daemon does not know if it is from his near assassination the prior night or from him sleeping with him.

“Today we will all go to the dragon pit, spend some needed time together.” She reaches out to hold Joffrey’s hand, but he jerks it away.

“Is Aegon going?” He asks instead. Daemon sees her anger in her eyes, though she keeps her face calm and loving. Joffrey is a boy, a child, and does not understand.

“Of course, he is family.” She says through gritted teeth and Aegon huffs at this but says nothing. His face is on the table, one of his hands rubbing his sore neck.

“Uncle Aegon is Muñā's brother, like little Aegon and Little Viserys are my brothers.” This gives Rhaenyra pause. Because she has always made sure the children have all felt love and not like Daemon’s true born sons were a replacement for them. Though he sees the comparison Joffrey is making.

“That’s not…” She starts then forces her smile wider. “Yes, that’s right Joff, he’s my little brother.”

“What your mother means is, it isn’t the same.” Aegon sneers, turning his head toward Joffrey. His eyes have returned to normal circles.

“How?”

“You and your brother share a mother, a more sensitive and nurturing parent. Your mother and I share a father.” He shrugs at the boy, turning to stare back at the ground. “That and our father gave her a birthright she was not entitled to.”

When he finished his comment, suddenly sitting up, he braced for a strike.

“Muñā took something from you?” Daemon feels his anger rising and can feel Nyra biting her tongue.

“No.” This pulls the wind out of the sails. “She didn’t take anything from me. Our King took it. He has always preferred her, or perhaps he felt guilty.”

“That’s not fair…he shouldn’t like one child more than the other…” he looks generally sad for the other. Aegon looks at Joffrey for a beat, staring at him and his innocence.

“If your mother was forced to choose between you and your brothers, do you think she would choose you?” Joffrey looks at Nyra, then down at the table with a frown. “This world is just like that. It’s fine, I never wanted the throne.”

“What do you want?” Jacaerys jumps in. Aegon looks at him for a long time before laughing at him, in that mean way he has.

“I’m the first-born son denied his birthright. I have always known better than to want.” He chuckles to himself.

“You must want something, everyone wants something.” Lucerys adds.

“I want wine.” He answers deadpan and both the brothers give him a look. Because that is not what they are talking about.

“Well, what did you want when you asked for Kepa’s hand?” Rhaena asks, scooting closer. Daemon has no idea how this has happened. Aegon never speaks when Nyra’s around, and even when she is not, he only really speaks to Joffrey.

“I didn’t want my family to die. I didn’t want to be used for a war.” He lays his chin on his arms looking at Daemon’s daughter flatly. Daemon sees Nyra look down at the table, thinking. It could be a lie, that Aegon never wanted to challenge his sister, but it does not feel like a lie.

“Do you miss your family?” Joffrey asks, looking at Aegon with big eyes and a worried pout.

“Not really. They never really liked me that much, either.”

“Your mother must like you; mother’s always love their children.” Joff argues with an upturned lip and sends his big eyes to Nyra for backup. But everyone at the table knows of Alicent’s distaste for her first born.

“My mother feels for me the same way Uncle Daemon feels for this babe.” He rubs his own stomach. Being compared to the cunt makes him feel rather ill. “An unwanted requirement. This babe cost Uncle his wife, and I cost my mother her best friend.”

The entire table falls silent. Daemon hates how he cannot even argue the point without being more hateful toward Aegon, making him sound more pitiful and upsetting Joffrey. It had not occurred to him that the little dragon would be comparing their situation to that of Viserys and the cunt’s. Joffrey looks between him and Nyra before bowing his head, upset.

They all start eating once more in the silence, no one really sure how to break it. Daemon studies Aegon, who is still not eating. Still looking sickly and half-there, like he is drunk, but there has been no wine given and no time to get drunk between waking and now. Perhaps he truly is just that sick.

“Surely…someone must love you?” Joffrey squeaks out to Aegon, who looks at him for a long time. “Everyone has someone who loves them…even just one person…”

“Sunfyre loves me.” The omega offers with a big grin to lift the boy’s mood. “He’s the most beautiful, smartest, wonderful dragon alive.”

“Do you…” He bites his lip before continuing. “...love anyone?”

“I love my mother. I love my brothers. I love my little sister. I love the twins. I love Sunfyre. I love my old horse.” He shrugs, though he contemplates it for a moment. “I love my father, too.”

Aegon pauses and looks at Daemon for a moment.

“I used to love Jacaerys and Lucerys.” This makes both the brothers look up and flinch.

“They should love you back!” Joffrey offers, both his hands fisted, determined.

“It’s a different kind of love than what you have with your family.” He explains, chuckling at the boy’s reaction.

“How?”

“Your family loves each other, real love. I love my family because their family and I cannot help it.” He laughs at himself now. “If I could stop loving them, I would.”

“Do you love Kepa?” Daemon frowns at the question. Aegon looks at him out of the corner of his eye once again.

“Love isn’t the word I’d use.”

“Well…I love you.” This makes the omega outright laugh, hard and full of mirth.

“No, you don’t. You just think I’m funny and silly.” He smiles at the boy gently. “It’s okay. I don’t need love; I’m not like you. I’ve never had it, so it has no impact.”

Joffrey stares at the table, sad. The mood is somber. Nyra orders the maids to clear the table, and she insists they all head to the dragon pit. Everyone rises to follow her out, Aegon trailing behind everyone. She has the maids go fetch Aegon the Younger and Viserys II.

Chapter Text

2 months later

After that first morning at the dragon pit where the children played, the omega slept against Sunfyre, Nyra and Daemon got to sit, relaxing. Nyra made it a regular thing; every seventh day they found themselves out with their dragons playing with the children.

That is where they are now. Daemon and Nyra sit on a bench together, while they watch the children play. Jacaerys, Lucerys, Rhaena, and Baela are all in a corner talking. While Viserys and Aegon the Younger are playing with their toys at the pair's feet. Joffrey is running about, pretending to chase the dragons.

‘His’ omega is bathing Sunfyre. Scrubbing those gorgeous golden scales and chattering quietly at the big beast. He orders Sunfyre in common language to rise, and the Dragon does as instruct. Standing on its hind legs to give Aegon access to his stomach. A move that causes Joffrey to stop in his tracks and look over.

Daemon can say that in his long life, he has never seen a dragon do that. In fact, he has never seen a dragon so completely obedient. Not even Caraxes is as obedient as Sunfyre. The young dragon is more like a loving hound than a dragon. It would make sense that the least Targaryen in their line would have the least dragon-like dragon.

“Sunfyre is amazing!” Joffrey yells, excited in the way only children can really manage.

“You think that’s amazing? Have you ever seen a dragon dance?” Aegon laughs and waves his hands at Sunfyre.

At the gesture the dragon shakes himself dry, making Joffrey giggle as water is sprayed on him. Joffrey shakes his head enthusiastically at the question. This catches the attention of the others in the yard, suddenly all eyes are on the golden dragon and his rider. Aegon whistles high and orders ‘copy’.

Then he kicks one of his legs out, which to everyone’s surprise and shock Sunfyre copies with his front leg. Aegon takes three steps to the left and turns, pulling Joffrey with him out of the way. Sunfyre copies this, walking sideways and turning, like a hound taught to walk on two legs. A useless trick, but definitely impressive. Because dragons are not like hounds, they are not as compliant or as loving as Sunfyre is to Aegon.

Whenever they arrive in the dragon pit, Aegon greets his dragon with a big grin, a kiss, and the dragon gently smells the rider’s stomach in greeting to the unborn. Sunfyre also lets Joffrey climb all over him, without moving or causing the boy to fall off. Of course, Nyra does not allow this without Aegon there, but it is still an impressive feat.

Aegon makes Sunfyre do a couple more twirls and moves, before he himself loses balance. He goes a little lightheaded and Sunfyre catches him before he falls. His smile falters but does not vanish laughing off the action. Though it puts Daemon on edge, he keeps himself rooted to his spot next to his True wife.

“I have an idea; you want to play Stone Step?” Aegon is beaming as Joffrey starts nodding excitedly, despite having no idea what game the man is referring to. With a big grin Aegon orders him to collect as many small stones as he can.

“Ha, you made that game up when we…were kids…” Jacaerys chuckles at his uncle, though there is a sad fondness to it. “Used to cheat all the time, too.”

“I can’t cheat at a game I invented!” He argues back with a softens Daemon has yet to see directed at Jacaerys before, not since they were boys.

Before the adults ripped them apart. Before Aemond lost his eye. Back when Jacaerys and Lucerys would follow Aegon around like ducklings to their mother. Aegon has always had that talent. Able to draw eyes and focus, Daemon is unsure when he became so withdrawn, so isolated.

“Can I play?” Lucerys hesitates at first, but after a beat asks with his chest puffed out and his head held high. Ready for a rejection, Daemon would guess.

“Help Joff get the stones.” He waves his hand, still leaning on Sunfyre for support. “Go on, you too Jace.”

Jacaerys looks shocked, but hurries over to his brothers' gathering stones. Rhaena and Baela look at one another before they too join in collecting stones. Soon Aegon is ordering around all of Nyra and Daemon’s children, even little Aegon and Viserys are picking up stones.

Viserys is the most hesitant to join. At first, he stuck to Nyra’s leg as Aegon the Younger jumped up to play as well. But after watching them all laughing, bringing the stones before Aegon to inspect for approval or dismissed to find more. Viserys slowly picks up a stone and brings it to Aegon, who accepts it with a smile, and a wave of his hand for the babe to find more.

The game turned out to be very simple, avoiding the stones. The thrower would throw stones at their feet, and they had to jump out of the way, without touching the stones already thrown on the ground. It was a lot of hopping up and down.

Something the toddlers could not yet do, but Aegon made sure they were included. Always throwing the stone just to the side of their little feet as they attempted but failed to get off the ground. They play for a solid ten minutes when Aegon starts looking pale, being bent down as he is. He orders Jacaerys to take over the tossing.

“You can play too, come on!” Joffrey waves Aegon into the fray of hopping children. He smiles but shakes his head.

“I’m feeling a bit weak,” He shrugs, moving to lay against Sunfyre, who laid down after their dance. The games continue as the three of them watch on. Nyra is sitting tense whenever the children interact with Aegon but remains uninterrupted. Just watching.

It is quite a surprise for Daemon how likeable the boy is. Judging by the way he is treated by his own family; one would think that he was intolerable. But every time he interacts with children he shines. A very likable, child-like man. Perhaps immature for his age and a tad cruel in his humor, but not anyone despise worthy.

After their family time in the dragon pit they move to the training grounds. Rhaena and Baela both leave on their dragons to head to visit Corys and Rhaenys. Aegon the Younger and Viserys II are both taken to their nursery by the maids. Joffrey is also escorted away for his lessons. Leaving Nyra, him, the older brothers, and ‘his’ omega.

He is unsure if the omega just wishes to attend or if he is unsure if he is dismissed. Either way he follows them to the grounds. Sir Rye is already there with the swords. Daemon does not miss the look Rhaenyra and the man share. Apparently, she has plotted something for this morning.

“Alright, all the princes on the field. Grab your blades.” He waves. Jacaerys and Lucerys look uncertain at having Aegon watch them but move to grab their swords regardless. Unlike Aemond, Aegon has not wielded a sword in such a long time, Daemon is certain the boys have nothing to be embarrassed about.

“I said princes, on the field.” The man repeats himself, looking right at Aegon. With a deep frown, he merely raises a white eyebrow.

“Pardon?”

“You are a prince are you not? It is time for lessons, and Princess Rhaenyra thought you could use a brush up on your skills.” He explains.

“Does she? No. I’m not doing that.” He stared at the man with a sneer. “You forget your place, knight. Rhaenyra is not queen yet; she and I hold the same station.”

Sir Rye does not take this unbothered. He throws a sword at Aegon, and swings on him. This forces the boy to catch the hilt and deflect poorly, sending him stumbling back, cursing. He manages to stumble out of the way of the next swing with a hiss.

Jacaerys and Lucerys go to help, but Rhaenyra raises her hand for them to remain in place. Her nails biting into Daemon’s wrist is what kept him in his place the moment the other’s blade left his sheath.

Rye’s sword swings right at Aegon’s stomach. ‘His’ omega uses the sword in his arm and his leg to protect his stomach. Snarling. Suddenly Aegon’s mouth is too full, fangs having dropped, eyes shifted, and suddenly he was angry. Daemon could physically feel it. Could feel Aegon’s anger rushing through his own blood stream, feeling it pounding in his chest.

When their swords collide, Aegon steps on Rye’s sword, the flat side and releases his own blade, sending the man stumbling toward the little dragon. A dragon in that moment, snarling, and looking all the world unhuman. Daemon has always known Aegon was beautiful, but in that breath, he is the most gorgeous being to ever live.

While Rye tries to right himself, Aegon slams his shoulder into the knight’s chest, sending them both to the ground. Without stopping a moment, the omega straddles the other man and scratches his nails across his face, ripping the skin in four jagged claw marks. Then he is punching the man. Fighting not with grace or skill, but pure brute strength.

This only ends when Aegon grunts in pain, and curls around his abdomen. His stomach pain gives Rye a moment of relief and time to strike back. Sir Rye pushes Aegon off him and goes for his sword again. Aegon rolled a little further away, but the pain was clearly intense.

Rye never lands the blow he goes for.

Daemon feels himself move, more than moves himself. Dark Sister has already removed the man’s head before Rhaenyra has time to order him to still his hand. That is the second of their knights he has killed for Aegon. Seven months in Dragonstone and Daemon has already reduced their numbers for the boy.

“Get the Maesters!” Daemon orders Jacaerys and Lucerys who both run off to find help.

The little dragon is curled around himself crying in pain and blood begins to appear on his trousers. Daemon hooks an arm under Aegon’s leg and shoulders, lifting him into the air. When he turns there is a thunderous look on Nyra’s face. There is no time to think about that, as he moves past her.

He meets the Maesters in the middle and they put Aegon in a random room. Gently setting him on the bed, he helps them rid Aegon of his trousers. The boy is crying and clinging to Daemon’s arm.

“Daemon. You are dismissed.” Rhaenyra snaps at the door, looking into the room and meeting his eyes.

His body fights this order, wanting to obey Rhaenyra, but also not wanting to leave his omega. He hesitates but compiles, walking out of the room, ignoring Aegon’s pleas for him to stay. Rhaenyra gives him another look. Daemon had not been there when she gave birth, had not been there when she lost their daughter.

Staying with Aegon now would be a betrayal of the highest form. So, he leaves with her, heading to the war room. They talk of their roles, avoiding the topic of the child. Or the lack of one.

Aegon already looks weak, the child coming early means that he will lose it. There is still a real possibility that Aegon will not survive this as well. Then that will be all. Their goal met.

If Aegon dies their biggest problem will be solved. They will be free to remarry one another. To move forward. Though it would also make Aemond a contender for the throne. He is much more dangerous than his soft brother.

Realistically, they should be aiming to keep Aegon alive until after Rhaenyra has already been named Queen. Daemon cannot get rid of the pit in his stomach. Cannot get rid of the blood in his body going cold, or feeling the life leave his soul.

The bond demands he be there. Pushes every nerve to rejoin his omega. His skin itches as if infested with bugs. These disgusting feelings only increase tenfold when Sunfyre starts crying out. They can hear the heartbreak in his roars. Daemon cannot bring himself to think what that could mean.

This was what he wanted. What he worked for. He did this. Put the boy in this position. It is mainly his doing that the other was so unhealthy. These are the consequences of his own actions. His desires. His goals. Yet.

Yet he cannot stomach the thought at this moment. He knows the feelings will pass; knows it is just the bond forcing this weakness upon him. A scream sounds all around them and he realizes that if he focuses hard enough, he can hear the screams. Hear Aegon in agony.

Until the noise stops all at once. The room fell dead silent. His body goes cold. He reminds himself this is what he wanted.

Chapter Text

Daemon was sitting in a chair, watching the fire while he waited for an update. The noise stopped a long time ago. Rhaenyra has moved to the upper tower by now with her boys. He is forced to get up and join her when a maid informs him that he is being requested.

Nyra is sitting on the sofa with Joffrey reading. Jacaerys and Lucerys are both at the table doing their reading. He frowns when he enters unsure why he was called in. His mood is unstable, his body still tense and irritated without knowing where ‘his’ omega is. Daemon does not want to be irritated with Nyra, should not feel that way. But this fucking omega bond is pushing his nerves to the surface.

Her eyes look cold when she looks at him. Still mad then. Daemon is unsure how to fix this situation, his body is telling him to prioritize Aegon, but his head knows that Rhaenyra is his wife. The wife he chose. The one he chose despite his brother’s rules or warnings. He has been attracted to her for a long time, her determination, her strength.

A powerful woman who can stand by his side as his equal. Though perhaps it was not an equal he was after. Stop. Don’t think about it. He needs to focus, returning her look back at her. They stare at one another for a moment. A challenge, a warning.

“The Maesters have informed me that the birth has finished, I’ve summoned Aegon here.” She says simply going back to Joffrey. Daemon feels something in him darken.

“He’s just given birth; you think he can make it up the stairs?” He snaps; this placate role he has been playing for months to make up for this situation is wearing thin.

He wanted her to be comfortable. Wanted their relationship to remain the same after the forced marriage to Aegon. But his patience for her games is starting to leave him more frustrated that he needs to be. Daemon chose her, as his wife, his partner, his queen. He chose her because he believes in her, but at the moment she is reminding him of a petulant child. Acting out because daddy is not giving her enough attention.

“Alicent had me come to her and present Joffrey when he was born.” She snaps back, most likely feeling his irritation with her. The two of them try to avoid fighting about Aegon.

“Rhaenyra,” He snarls at her and she straightens. Daemon can feel the boys all stiffen around them, but he ignores their distress. Not looking away from her.

“Princess…” A guard's hesitant voice enters from the door, waiting to be invited before passing the threshold.

“Enter.” She responds, knowing Daemon is not going to fight with her in front of the guards. Even when they are mad with each other, they need to stand united. Just in case Aegon’s plan does not work and the war still starts.

“Um…Princess…the prince has refused to leave his bed…” The man looks unsure, Daemon cannot help the snort that leaves him and gives her a smug smirk.

“Tell him that it was not a question.” Nyra hisses, keeping her voice calm, but biting.

“We told him, but he made sure we understood that the two of you hold the same position.” The guard looks to the side unsure. “He is also the child of the King.”

“How is the prince?” Daemon asks, ignoring Nyra’s nasty look.

“He is weak for now, tired. The baby is…”

“What?”

“Small…. deformed….”

Blood rushes to his ears and he hears nothing else. There are a million ways this could turn out, but if Aegon loses a child and survives. There is no world where this peace will continue, even a strained one. Would the boy even be able to withstand that? Would he start the war himself, after all his efforts to keep it away.

Daemon does not realize what he is doing, where he is going as his body moves on its own. Down the stairs two at a time, moving faster than he has needed to in years. Can feel the pounding in his chest. Deformed. Small. All the Targaryen miscarriages have resulted in deformed little things, monstrous babes.

Omegas are meant to be better at birthing dragons, yet Aegon seems to be proving himself the exception as he always has. He reaches the door and falls short. What is he planning on doing? Going in and arguing with Aegon, in his weakened state? Comforting him?

They do not have that kind of a bond, that relationship. Anything Daemon says will only make the situation worse. The boy most likely does not want Daemon anywhere near him or the baby. Yet, he can still hear the echoes of Aegon begging him to stay.

Aegon chose to pick him. To marry him. He is the one who forced this marriage. Yet, it is Aegon who has lost everything. Daemon may have been forced to wed the other, but he still has Rhaenyra whenever he wants, still spends his days as he had before, still raises her children, and their own.

For him the most inconvenient part is the bond it created. But that is not the same with Aegon. Aegon was forced to leave the only home he has ever known. Forced to live among kin who hate him, who have always treated him coldly and cruelly. Forced into isolation and depression.

Forced to bear a child by a man who frightens him. A man who has tormented him and abused him, time and again. Now he lay in a bed, most likely in pain, with a deformed babe. No real family around, because he was forced away from them.

Despite their poor relationship, Daemon imagines that Aegon wanted his mother there or his sister, Helaena for the birth. That he had not wanted to do, yet another thing alone. Daemon has never cared about the right answer, about pleasing others. Yet, that itching under his skin is gnawing at his brain.

What did he sacrifice? What did any of them sacrifice to keep the war from starting? Nothing, no one made a move to keep it from happening. No one but Aegon. And even that Aegon was forced to do.

Because it was always going to be Aegon who was pushed to fight Rhaenyra, it was always going to be Aegon blamed. The little dragon did what he had to keep the peace, and yet he is the only one suffering consequences.

Rhaenyra and his marriage may have been nullified, but they still share a bed, still parent as one, still spend their days planning together. What changed? Having Aegon in the castle seemed so frustrating and daunting before. But what did it really do?

Gave someone for Joffrey to play with. Another mouth to feed, one who rarely speaks. Daemon married the boy out of duty, and has made it the other’s problem ever since. As if Aegon had any real choice. Marry Daemon or face a life of war, being forced to be the enemy of a sister who never liked him.

He pushed the door open. For the first time since he was a boy, Daemon felt real, genuine fear. Fear he would walk into find Aegon cold and lost, fear the babe’s body would be laid on the bed unmoving. He wanted this. He planned this. And he knows it will forever be his biggest regret.

Aegon is sitting on the bed, his back is to the door while he is hunched over a bundle.

“I said I’m not walking up any stairs!” Aegon snarls from his position. “If your Princess wishes to meet Rhaegar, then she can come herself!”

“Rhaegar?” Daemon asks. His voice startles his nephew who looks up in shock. There is a blankness to his eyes that had not been there before. They stare at one another.

“Do you want to meet your son?” Aegon says in response.

With a deep breath he walks over to the bed to look at the babe in Aegon’s arms. He lets his arms loosen, causing the blanket to fall away slightly. So that Daemon can really see the child.

A tiny, malnourished thing. Barely bigger than his hand, Daemon could crush its little body in one motion. That is not what causes his revolution though. Not what causes him to pull away and frown at the boy.

On both of the baby’s shoulders, down his arms are dragon scales, deep bluish-purple things. Unnatural. White hair fluffs around its tiny head, strangely full for such a small thing. He has more scales on his hips, thighs, and a tail sticking out between his legs. A monstrous abomination.

Rhaegar, Aegon’s child, the first child to survive birth with these kinds of deformities. When the dragon blood is so strong in a child, that it causes dragon characteristics like these then the blood kills the child. Causing the stillborn. Yet, this child, despite its size and peculiarities is breathing, squirming in Aegon’s arms.

Before he can stop himself, Daemon turns away and leaves the room. Aegon says nothing as he leaves.

Chapter Text

Daemon goes to a spare room for the night, unable to look at Rhaenyra or deal with Aegon. His mind is on the child, the weakened body, too thin to be healthy, the scales, the abomination. It will not survive past infancy, he is sure. It will leave a few hours, maybe even days. But it will die and when it does, Daemon is sure something in Aegon will follow.

He is lying against the sheets fully clothed. That thing in Aegon’s arms, ‘their’ baby playing in his mind, over and over. Omegas were supposed to have strong children, miraculous children, yet Aegon has produced a failed attempt.

Perhaps the tales of omegas were exaggerated. Perhaps it was Aegon’s own misuse of the drink. Or his inability to look after himself properly. Drinking too much and never eating. The boy practically starved the babe in the womb.

A failure even as an omega. The thought makes him angry at himself, but he cannot help it. Of all the Targaryens, it is he that is the purest of their blood. Daemon holds their traditions; Daemon produces strong sons and daughters. Not that thing Aegon is caring for now.

He thinks of Laena, of the broken child that cost her, her life. He wanted Rhaenyra because she is a Targaryen, a dragon through and through. Strong and powerful. Perhaps Aegon just got too much Hightower in him to be a proper dragon.

The boy had looked like a dragon when he was ripping that knight’s face open just before the birth. Certainly, he has dragon eyes whenever he is angry, or Nyra is in the room. Should he comfort him? No. That would do little good now.

Daemon cannot stomach the thought of what he will be like once the child passes. He wonders for a brief, fleeting moment how soon the heat will return. With the part of his brain that can shut out other’s pain, he thinks Aegon will be fine if he can put another child in him before this one dies.

Knows it is a truly demented thought and pushes it from his mind. He is staring at his ceiling in anger, in anguish. What should he do? He does not comfort, does not deal with heartache. Had felt useless when his girls lost their mother. Unsure how a normal person would respond to such tragedy.

Thinks about Aegon’s heat, about when he put the child in Aegon to begin with. Daemon feels bile rise to the back of the throat at doing it again. Would the bond even allow him to? He had been angry with Aegon at the time, it had made it easy to hurt him in that way.

He is not angry now, though his brain is telling him he should be. His mind is telling him that this is Aegon’s fault. That if Aegon acted like a proper Targaryen, was stronger, better behaved, if he took care of himself better, the babe would have been born normal. Ale would not give the child scales.

No, he reasons the child is just another malformed Targaryen not meant to live, and it is only due to Aegon being an omega that the child has lived this long. A tail. He is sure he saw a tail on the child. The baby would never be able to see the light of day. They will need to keep it locked away, from prying eyes until it passes on its own.

Daemon very greatly doubts Aegon will agree to put the child out of its misery. Is it in pain? His ‘son’. It causes an ache to think of the babe that way, as his. He prides himself on his statues, on his abilities, on his place in this world.

Yet, Laena died having their child. Nyra and him lost Visenya. Both those babies were deformed, too small, and weak. Rhaenyra already had children to live for when she lost Visenya. Could Aegon survive losing his first.

His mind swirls in circles, unsure how he feels about Aegon, or Rhaenyra. Ever since Aeogn arrived in Dragonstone it is like she has become an immature child. Fighting with her brother for his attention. Not the future Queen he chose. Daemon slips into sleep with all of this on his mind.

******

Daemon frowns, he is surrounded by darkness. A room that he cannot quite see. A dream he knows, yet it feels more. More like a memory. It feels far too real to be something his mind is playing for him. He can feel the blood in his veins, hear his own heart beating steadily in his chest.

He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath.

A noise makes him look over and spot a boy with a cruel look upon his face.

There a few arms lengths away is a boy. No older than ten and two. Wild white hair that fluffs around his head, claw-looking spikes poking out of his shoulders, three on each one. Scales covering his arms, and amethyst eyes with dragon slit pupils. His mouth filled with jagged fangs; scars line his lips. A madness in his eyes.

At his feet is Rhaenyra, bloody and run through with the sword, dangling from the boy’s fingers. Daemon feels his skin crawl as the boy takes a step toward him, stepping on Rhaenyra’s body. A predatory stance, like a dragon just before they strike. He reaches for his sword but finds his sheath empty.

When he looks back at the abomination before him, he sees that the child is wielding Dark Sister. He tries to speak but no words come out. The world tips and the darkness takes over.

The light nearly blinds him; he pulls his hand up to shield them. There in the courtyard of King’s Landing is that boy again, with his dragon features. He has a sword in hand, though it is not Dark Sister this time.

He seems to be training with two other boys, both older than him. The child is ruthless with every blow. Despite the two boys towering over him, the child is holding them off with ease. A cruel smile splitting his face.

Daemon knows that look. It’s a look he has dawned many times. The love of the fight, love to hurt and cause pain. He does not just use his sword either, more than once Daemon watches the child slam his spikes into the other two boys’ stomachs causing them to cry out despite the armor.

Both the older boys have white hair and pale skin, violet eyes. They both look familiar, yet he cannot place them in the haze. He is so focused on the three boys he is not ready for someone to touch him. Daemon hisses as he turns to whomever is laying their hand on his arm.

Standing next to him is Aegon. But not the Aegon he knows. This version is older, his features fuller, a healthier weight on his hips. Though the youthful roundness of his face remains the same. He is not looking at Daemon but smiling at the children.

“Rhaegar, come.” Rhaegar! The boy runs over without missing a beat, a nasty looks on his face when he spots Daemon. A sneer and a snarl, a warning. Aegon immediately pulls him into a hug and drops his voice to a whisper only the three of them can hear.

“Don’t embarrass your brothers, it’ll upset the Queen.” He pulls back and kisses the boy on the forehead. Though the child only growls at that, he balls his hand into a fist and beats on his chin in frustration. “No, no love. You’ve already earned the title, ‘Rhaegar the Ruthless’, you have nothing else to prove.”

Daemon ignores the rest of the conversation as his mind catches up. The two older boys watching them must be Aegon the Younger and Viserys II. He tries to look back at Aegon and Rhaegar, but his vision is blurring around him, shifting.

Then he feels a sharp stab of pain, feels himself falling back. He blinks for a moment as his vision readjusts to reveal Rhaegar standing over him. Dark Sister is smeared in his blood, it catches on the firelight. A bedroom, his chambers maybe. Rhaegar. The abomination. The boy lifts Dark Sister and brings it down!

****

Daemon gasps as he is forced awake. He is in his own chambers. Sweat is soaking through his top. Rhaegar the Ruthless; it feels his head as he looks over to his door. A premonition? No, it did not feel like a certainty, more like a warning. But he cannot fathom what the warning could be. Should the babe survive will he be the one to kill Daemon?

Chapter Text

Daemon found himself stalking Aegon's room. Finding his omega and ‘their’ baby both asleep on the bed. Rhaegar’s breathing is weak, barely there. He takes a step forward, reaches for Aegon. Just then Rhaegar’s eyes snap open and fall on him.

His eyes the same amethyst of Targayens, but the black of his eyes a slit, dragon eyes. Just like his dream. Those eyes follow Daemon as he circles the bed closer to the babe. He can still see the boy standing over him with Dark Sister, a warning. A premonition?

Before his fingers can touch the child, Aegon’s hand is gripping his wrist and shoving hard. Aegon moves fast, his dragon eyes out now, as he shoves them both over the baby onto the floor. His fingers are around Daemon’s throat before they hit the ground. This does not worry him. Aegon could never be the one to kill him, his soft omega. Yet, arousal pulses through him at the site of a feral omega.

“Daemon?” Aegon looks shocked, releasing him and falling into his lap. “What are you doing?”

“Visiting my wife and his child,” He growls back.

“Our child.” He snaps back, standing up and crawling back into bed. Daemon looks at the baby, Rhaegar is still watching him, deathly quiet, unnatural eyes. A strange creature lays in the bed, and he is not certain it is a human.

“Remove the babe from the bed,” He waves toward the basket set out for the newborn to sleep in.

“Why?” Daemon gives Aegon a look that makes him flinch and pull his legs closer, confused. “I’m not in heat.”

“Does that matter?” They stare at one another for a moment longer, before the younger Targaryen falls in line. He scoops up the baby and places him gently into the baby bed. The white cloth blocking the baby’s eyes from his continued staring of Daemon.

Aegon is hesitant to get into bed. He crawls back in slowly and pulls his legs close to his body, watching and waiting for Daemon to make up his mind. There had not been any intention of mating Aegon when he walked here. Now though, he can feel the desire rising.

Heats are strange things. If push comes and Daemon is good, he could push Aegon into heat. So soon after the birth of a child, it could be disastrous for Aegon’s body. That is a fact. He thinks about how he felt while Aegon was in labor.

Daemon reaches forward and gently wraps a hand around Aegon’s ankle, pulling his leg closer to him. He pulls until Aegon falls on his back, his legs falling open naturally when Daemon moves between them. Aegon is stiff and bracing himself for whatever mood he seems to be in.

There is a beat of hesitation pulsing throughout his body, but he ignores it as he leans down and softly brushes his lips against the other’s. Aegon pushes him back with his fingers over Daemon’s lips. They lock eyes and whatever the boy is looking for, he must find.

Because the next thing Daemon knows Aegon is pulling him down. It feels strange, kissing Aegon without the fight or the rush. It’s slow, like a calm stream. He does not think he has ever been this gentle or soft with anyone else before.

That’s all they do at first, kiss. Lips moving against lips, nothing else. Then Aegon starts moving, rolling his body up and against Daemon. Slow at first, but then faster, more desperate. All the while his breathing is picking up, moaning into the air, soft and quiet against Daemon’s lips. Still conscious of the baby across the room.

Daemon slowly slides his hand down Aegon’s body, careful not to hurt him or linger too long on his stomach before taking him in hand. He cries out and arches into his touch. Quiet and begging with every pant. Calling Daemon his husband, his name, and gasping into his mouth.

His cry of compilation comes rather quickly. It makes him smell divine. Dragon eyes are still bright and glassy when he leans back and looks into his face. Both of them take a moment to breathe in. It’s a gentle moment, a confusing moment for everyone involved.

Daemon does not know what he is doing here. Rhaenyra is going to be unbearable, more than she has been. This is not going to help the boy when his baby dies. Nothing that is happening is a good idea. A logical way of thinking for a trained warrior. Yet, here he is, again, in Aegon’s bed ignoring his True Wife.

“Sorry,” Aegon gasps out, arching slightly and looking down between their bodies. “You can continue?”

“No, all done.”

“You didn’t?” He shifts under Daemon in confusion, waving toward him.

“I’m fine.” Before Aegon can argue, Rhaegar begins to whine. It’s a quiet thing, barely audible in the room. Daemon is shocked with its quiet nature due to Aegon's loud voice. He rolls out of bed and out from under Daemon to go get the babe.

“I’m going to feed him…are you leaving?” Aegon asks as he picks up Rhaegar and looks at Daemon over his shoulder.

Instead of answering Daemon pulls himself under the blanket and waits for Aegon to crawl back in bed. He watches as Aegon lines up Rhaegar with his nipple, pinching it between his fingers and helping the babe get latched on. Something Daemon has only known Milk maids to do for the royal family. As far as he knows Rhaenyra and Laena both did not breastfeed their children.

He watched for a while until he finally fell asleep. This time he did not dream about a demon child killing him or out fighting his older sons. Instead, he dreamt of dragon eyes and pouty lips. Of a swollen bellied angry man rolling his eyes at him. When he wakes up it is to the sight of Aegon staring at him. Studying him.

“Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Get attached.” Daemon is unsure if he is telling himself or Aegon. “The baby will die, Aegon, the baby is weak, and it will die. And I’m not yours to keep.”

They stare at one another for another beat, Aegon’s face unmoving as he stares back.

“You think I’m a fool? I know exactly what you and Rhaenyra want. You won’t send an assassin after me or do anything to make you both look bad. You’ll let the pregnancies kill me instead. Were you disappointed, husband, when I survived this birth?” Aegon wraps his fingers around Daemon’s chin, tilting it up with a cruel smile.

With that he turned away from Daemon and started cooing at Rhaegar.

“You don’t want to admit it, but Rhaegar is yours. Which means he’s strong and he’ll survive. I’m sure of it.” He snaps in his childish-baby voice still smiling at the baby.

Chapter Text

The months go by in a blur. Everything that he has grown used to since bringing Aegon here alters and changes. Out of everything that happens the tension between Rhaenyra and Aegon takes the attention of all. Since the birth of Rhaegar, Aegon has become vicious, offhanded, and outwardly defiant. Refusing Rhaenyra, the right to hold or even look upon the child, while still maintaining a relationship with Rhaenyra’s own children.

This is not something she did not fight against. Forbidding Joffrey from spending his days with the other. The boy screamed himself hoarse until she agreed to allow him to spend his regular time with Aegon while she works. Since Aegon does not allow Rhaegar out of his sight, even for a moment, that means he spends his days in the playroom with Viserys and Aegon the Younger.

Due to his age, he also has started to do the children’s lessons with them, meaning he spends time with Jacaerys, Lucerys, Rhaena, and Baela. In a matter of weeks Aegon managed to win over everyone in the family but Rhaenyra. Daemon would be a liar if he said that it did not impress him. Rhaegar seems to have given his cowardly nephew a backbone.

Then there are the dragons, all the dragons seem to be drawn to Rhaegar, watching him, roaring when he does this little baby growl at them. The dreams have been plaguing Daemon’s nights, which he has been spending jumping between Rhaenyra and Aegon. Unsure where to spend it as the tension grows, he spends many nights alone.

He dreams of ‘Rhaegar the Ruthless’ most nights, with his cocky smirk, his animal personality, and his knowing eyes. At the end of each dream the boy pushes Dark Sister into his heart, killing him. The Maesters even tied a thread around the baby’s tail when he was but a few days old, allowing it to fall off naturally.

Aegon and him have only actually fucked once since that night, all those months ago when his nephew confronted him with his plan. It had been during his heat, and it had been to no one’s shock that he fell pregnant so easily. Now he is swollen with their second child, and they are all on dragon back heading for King’s Landing. It took nearly a year, but Rhaegar is finally healthy enough to make the trip. Thus, they are heading to present the little one to the King.

Joffrey sits in front of Daemon, while Rhaegar is strapped to Aegon’s back, with Viserys sleeping against his stomach. Rhaenyra was fuming about the seating when they left. Aegon the Younger is on Syrax with her. Jacaerys and Lucerys decided to stay behind in Dragonstone for this visit, to avoid the tension most likely. Rhaena and Baela both left for Drift Mark some days ago, leaving the three of them the only ones flying.

They are planning on landing their dragons and taking a cart through the city to the castle. To allow people the time to see Rhaenyra. Since she has been away from the capital for so long, they do not want people to forget their future Queen. A plan that was Daemon’s idea. Though he is wishing that he could take it back as they land.

There just behind the carriage is the words ‘The True King’ written across a store wall. Rhaenyra’s nostrils flare, causing Syrx to snarl and frighten the people back. The entire trip up is excruciating for multiple reasons. Not only is Aegon trying to keep himself and the baby hidden from view, but the people are making no effort to keep their voices down.

People all around them are chanting about the ‘gifted child’, the ‘dragon child’, calling Rhaegar their Dragon King. They do not just speak of Aegon or Rhaegar either. People chant about Daemon, how he claimed a magic being and seeded a true child born of the blood of dragons. The entire way to the castle is him thinking of ways to get the people back on Rhaenyra’s side.

Daemon knows that all he really needs to do is remind everyone that the baby was born between two men. An act that is frowned upon by all of Westeros. He is very stressed as they open the gate and then arrive at their destination. Rhaenyra goes to grab both Viserys and Aegon the Younger’s hands, when they pull away to play on the floor of the carriage.

“Should I get a maid to assist you, Sister?” Aegon sneers, referring to her as sister is a rather degrading move he started.

“I can handle my sons, brother.” She spits back at him, a dangerous glint in her eyes.

Aegon only shrugs leaving the carriage with Rhaegar stuffed securely in his elbow. The boy hit his fourth month of life and seemed to grow endlessly hungry. He grew rather quickly, only slightly smaller than other babe’s his age. No less healthy than any other child. That’s the part he knows is hardest on Rhaenyra.

Their daughter had been born with dragon abnormalities. She had been born dead, and yet Rhaegar did not just survive birth, he is thriving. Despite his weak birth, despite the scales, and the tail he lost. Rhaegar is doing everything Daemon never thought he would.

“UNCLE!” Daemon and Rhaenyra both look up to watch Aemond’s twins running their way, both throwing their arms around Aegon.

“My favorite twins,” He dropped to his knees to shower both of them in one arm hugs and kiss, before introducing them to Rhaegar.

Both the twins have a dragon flying behind them, still hatchlings. Rhaegar had not been given a dragon. Though that is not true. He had one, Rhaenyra and Daemon had always planned on all of Aegon’s children getting dragons to further their cause. However, Rhaenyra had the egg taken away before Rhaegar was born. A dragonless Targaryen.

Something he tried to point out to Rhaenyra did not end well the last time. Aemond’s eye and gaining the largest dragon in the world. She had not listened. Demanded that he cared too much for the child. They had argued for days, and she sent him away for a month, forcing him to leave Dragonstone.

It had been a very uncomfortable month. He still believes she only told him to return because she could not take Aegon. After Daemon beheaded that guard the day of Rhaegar’s birth, none of the guards were willing to follow an order from either sibling that would hurt the other.

“Daemon…you’ll be coming…right?” He looked over at Aegon’s unsure face. The boy is staring at the ground, with a slight frown on his face. Waiting for a rejection. It is easier to be gentle and soft with the boy when Rhaenyra is not right behind him breathing down his neck about it.

“He is my son,” He clarifies, feeling Rhaenyra’s nails dig into his arm.

“I’ll need help with the boys, your sons.” She hisses.

“It would look strange if I was not there to announce Rhaegar, Viserys would have questions.” He pulls his arm away and turns to her with the best force smile he can muster. His tolerance for her childish antics far long expired. “Aegon and I could take the boys with us.”

“No, Joffrey will help, won’t you love?” Rhaenyra sighs, turning to her middle son. Joffrey looks over at the twins and Aegon with longing before groaning, nodding in agreement.

“Can I play with Egg, later?” Joffrey asks Rhaenyra as the four walk away, making her growl and Aegon chuckle under his breath. Daemon walks over to the man, who immediately hands him Rhaegar.

It was a few months before he would willingly hold the boy. The look of the child, his big bug eyes, that are still too large for his head even now. His patchy scales, pale skin, and nightmarish eyes. Daemon can say that the babe had been off putting. Then once he did begin to hold the child, Rhaegar has a nasty habit of staring at Daemon emotionlessly. A face he did not think infants were capable of.

He has long since gotten used to it. Feeling drawn to assist Aegon. Daemon knows what he has been feeling all these months is guilt. Guilt for his plan and Aegon figuring it out. They have not spoken of that conversation, and Aegon has been treating him no different. The boy still beams at any attention Daemon gives him. He is stronger and meaner with Rhaenyra, but his attentiveness with Daemon has not changed.

Though he has noticed that Aegon will only hand Rhaegar to Daemon when Rhaenyra is not around. He knows that Aegon believes that he will immediately hand their child over to her. Even if he did, Daemon has no doubt that she would never harm a child. Not that he would even hand their child to her.

Aegon is hard to ignore once he has seen past that drunken stupor. Not only has Aegon managed to befriend his daughters, win back the Velaryon boys, he has won over the maids with his dedication to Rhaegar. Viserys and Aegon the Younger both adore him. Joffrey is practically in love with him. He smiles more, eats more, and does not drink with this second pregnancy.

He plays with the children, baths the dragons, helps Joffrey with his studies, and is always watching Daemon out of the corner of his eye. Aegon never asks him for anything, he submissively waits for any attention Daemon gives. Accepts being second or even last on his to do list as if it is the most natural thing in the world.

Daemon knows it is due to always being Viserys and Alicent’s last priority. Aegon is used to getting whatever is left for him after his siblings, Rhaenyra included. But with Rhaegar all the attention is on him, the baby loves him without exception, so Aegon has poured everything he has into being a wonderful parent. Not just that, he is working hard to harbour good relations between Rhaegar and his half-brothers.

Viserys had done something similar, giving Daeron and Jacaerys the same milk maid, having them grow up together. But the man had never put in the work, and actually helped the boys get along. Aegon on the other hand, has proven to be a better parent than both of his own combined. The boy takes Joffrey, Viserys, Aegon the Younger, and Rhaegar to the gardens to play with all of them together whenever Rhaenyra is in a meeting about Dragonstone.

Daemon is not even sure how long he has been doing it. He only knows because he caught him once returning with the four of them. Aegon had panicked and tried to explain that he was not trying to harm the boys. He showed Daemon where he took them and explained the games they played. When Daemon had questioned what he could possibly want with his sons.

Aegon had explained that he did not want Rhaegar to be treated as he was. He did not want Joffrey, Viserys, or Aegon the Younger to feel like Rhaegar is at fault for stealing Daemon from Rhaenyra. He did not want the older boys to treat Rhaegar like Rhaenyra always treated him. The young man, because that truly is what he is now, explained that he also has secret time with the older boys and girls as well.

Daemon promised to keep it a secret between them and that was the first time Aegon handed him Rhaegar. When he walked up, Aegon had Viserys and Rhaegar each on a hip, with Aegon the Younger holding Joffrey’s hand as they walked. He told the boy to give him his son, and when he stepped forward, Aegon had flinched and looked away.

While he had been talking about Viserys, he took Rhaegar instead. That’s what seemed to be the turning point, Aegon had smiled at him like he had never seen him before. He had made a big deal about Daemon calling Rhaegar his son. None of it helped him with his confusion toward Rhaenyra, but it had been a peaceful moment.

“Hello, Brother.” Daemon greets as they enter Viserys’s room, Aemond, Helaena, and the cunt are all standing on the other side of his bed, also waiting to meet the baby.

“Daemon, you’ve g-gotten old, little brother.” Viserys laughs, coughing roughly. “Coming to show me the baby, when you’re already expecting another.”

Viserys drops his hand on Aegon’s stomach as he walks up, both twins hanging from his arms.

“Father,” He slightly bows and keeps his smile tense. “Meet Rhaegar.”

Daemon passes Rhaegar into Aegon’s arms so he can sit down and show their son to the King. Viserys looks shocked, running a finger over Rhaegar’s scaly arms and shoulders. He then smiles at the two of them. “A true dragon.” Viserys says this softly, Daemon is not sure he even meant to say this outloud.

The next few hours are spent entertaining Aegon’s mother and siblings, showing off the baby, and before long Daemon grows tired of their presence. He can practically feel Otto Hightower scheming something regarding his child and omega. That protective, possessiveness is starting to itch its way up his skin.

“DAERON!” Aegon screeches next to him, before shoving Rhaegar into his arms and taking off down the hall.

Daemon’s mind is shifting for a moment, before realizing who Aegon is running toward. Without missing a beat Aegon jumps on his little brother, wrapping his legs around the boy’s hips and his arms around his neck. Daeron for his part caught his older brother with ease. For a moment that angry jealousy is trying to force its way up his throat, but then he remembers. Daeron left when they were younger, and never really had a reason to dislike Aegon.

Out of all of the cunt’s brood, Daeron is probably the brother Aegon feels loves him the most. The boy is, in fact, a boy. Only ten and six in age, he walks with the confidence of a youth not yet have lost a battle or been beaten down by their superiors. There is also a softness to him, a gentleness that the rest of the Hightower spawn lack, even Aegon.

His gentle smile he is using to speak to Aegon, vanishes as he looks at Daemon. “Uncle.” His voice is bland, cold as he addresses him. Daemon wants to be angry about this. He wants to demand the respect that he is owed. But he is not foolish enough to blame the boy. Not after everything he has put Aegon, and even Rhaegar through.

They pick up Rhaenyra and Joffrey on their way to the dragon keep, to see Daeron’s dragon. Aegon is excited to see how big Tessarion has gotten. Once they are all there, Aegon scoops Rhaegar out of his arms to introduce their son to his brother’s dragon. A very Aegon thing to do. He still remembers when Aegon introduced Rhaegar to Sunfyre and Caraxes.

“Grrr.” Rhaegar makes a babish growling noise that makes Aegon beam proudly.

That is not all it does. Daemon is about to chuckle at his son when it happens. All around them, everyone of their dragons throws their heads back and roars at the sky, releasing fire into the air above them. Everyone stumbles back in shock and Aegon’s head snaps down to look at their son. Daemon notices the guards in the distance whispering and sees the look of horror on Rhaenyra’s face. A true dragon indeed.

Then just to prove it was not a mistake, Rhaegar does it again and the dragons respond. A dragon cries in the far distance.

Chapter Text

Viserys, to Rhaenyra’s utter anger, declares a ball for the new Targaryen. While he had done no such thing for her own children, Rhaegar has found a special place in the people’s hearts in the coming days. Lords and Ladies from all over send ravens declaring their wish to meet the newest member.

It feels to Daemon with every passing day Aegon gets bigger with child, and Rhaegar gets more famous throughout the land. Aegon is being called the ‘ True King’ and Rhaegar the ‘Dragon Prince’ all throughout the people. Rhaenyra feels it as well, the shift of loyalty amongst the people. Even bedbound and sick Viserys has also started to notice the change.

Daemon is standing before a mirror in his room, debating whether he will require Dark Sister during this celebration. Deciding that he should bring her just in case. He has been trying to come up with a plan to turn favor back to his future Queen, but he has started to lose motivation every time Rhaegar demonstrates an inhuman ability in communicating with the dragons.

He makes his way to collect his omega and their son, Viserys, expecting them to enter together and show a strong union. They have been in King’s Landing now a few months or so, and that animosity that the siblings have for one another has no abided at all. Not that he blamed Rhaenyra for that.

After all, Aegon was beginning to prove himself a true rival to her. Despite the younger Targaryen marrying Daemon to keep a war from breaking out. Their civilians were taking sides, already getting ready for the crowning of the next heir. Many believe that Viserys should have already declared Aegon and Daemon the true rulers.

It was not that people believed Aegon would rule more justly than Rhaenyra, but instead the question fell with their heirs. Where Aegon’s heir is a true dragon born, with the ability to command and bond dragons, Jacaerys lacks many Targaryen traits and has no Targaryen ruthlessness in him. Even as a babe it is clear the power Rhaegar will hold one day.

As he opens the door to Aegon’s room he finds himself freezing in place. Aegon is the definition of beauty, not thicker like Rhaenyra or Haelena, he is thin, with perfectly rounded hips, a protruding belly ready to pop. He was born with the perfect combination of Hightower and Targaryen looks, making him the most stunning in the family.

The robe he is wearing is made of lilac silk, and falls around his frame elegantly. He is looking at Rhaegar and laughing at his son. He has yet to notice Daemon. Rhaegar for his part is wearing nothing but a loincloth and attempting to stand. Aegon watches their son struggle for a moment. Daemon almost points out that he is too young to walk just yet.

The comment dies in his throat though, as Rhaegar uses the chair beside him to get to his feet, still cooing at Aegon. ‘Rhaegar the Ruthless’ pops into his head. An image of the boy grown and plunging Daemon’s own blade into his chest appears in his mind’s eye. He clears his throat and Aegon’s head snaps up to him.

He looks fierce at first, ready to snap at whomever is interrupting the moment, but it falls away when their eyes meet. Aegon’s face falls to a peaceful, but guarded, smile. Daemon walks over and scoops Rhaegar into his arms, and the three make their way to the ballroom.

The ball is a boring affair. Daemon makes sure to dance with both Rhaenyra and Aegon, before sitting to look upon the guests. Lords and Ladies from all over dance around, eat, and chatter amongst themselves. Not even trying to be subtle about eyeing Rhaenyra and Aegon, waiting for something dramatic to happen.

“May I have this dance, my prince?” The question pulls him from his thoughts and he looks over to see the Lord of the North bowing low in front of Aegon, his hand extended. Lord Stark has a calm face as he waits for Aegon’s answer, and Daemon has to push down a growl. Rhaegar does not, growling at the man from Aegon’s lap.

“Y-you? You want to dance…with me?” Aegon sounds generally shocked that anyone would hold interest in him, a fact that has Daemon flinching.

“Go on!” Helaena, the little bitch, says with a wide grin snatching Rhaegar from Aegon’s lap allowing him the freedom to decide.

Like a good omega, Aegon looks at him. Unfortunately Rhaenyra feels that moment to be a cunt and lays a possessive hand on his arm. This seems to decide Aegon’s answer. Without saying a word, he takes Stark’s hand and rises. Daemon snatches his hand from Rhaenyra and glares at the pair walking away.

Whispers fill the room as the pair fall into the steps of the song. It is only a few steps in when Stark has Aegon throwing back his head in laughter. Stark is careful of his stomach, but is a skilled dancer, swirling Aegon all about. In Daemon’s opinion his omega is enjoying the other man’s attention far too much.

“Looks like Aegon found a superior partner, uncle.” The snide comment came from Daeron, staring at him coldly. Daemon shoots the boy a nasty look. “Dance partner, of course. But who knows perhaps Lord Stark will take away your need to choose between my brother and our sister.”

Aemond and Helaena’s answering chuckles would not be missed in a bussing room.

“You speak of treason, nephew.” Daemon snarls.

“Not if you give him willingly, after all, you still wish to be Rhaenyra’s, do you not?” Aemond adds, looking around his wife and brother.

Daemon can feel Rhaenyra’s eyes on the back of his neck. Knows that she is already plotting this course of action. Omegas have never been unmated before, it is believed that Aegon would never be able to be with another without pain. Though he doubts Rhaenyra cares about that.

Though he wonders if the Hightower children care or not. If they are only saying this to piss Daemon off. Or, if they perhaps, truly believe that finding Aegon someone new would be the out he needs. Being married off to Lord Stark would certainly solve many issues, such as the claim to the throne.

He could not rule in the North and the capital at the same time. It was this conversation that distracted him. It distracted all of them, so when man came forward with a dagger and cut Lord Stark across the cheek and pulled Aegon into his arms, no one was ready.

Just like that the cheer and merriment died. The man held the dagger firmly against Aegon’s throat. Everyone fell deathly silent, except for the children. Joffrey, Viserys II, and Aegon the younger all began to cry. Rhaegar began to screech and growl in Helaena’s arms. Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron all jumped to their feet, though they did not dare move.

“FOR THE TRUE QUEEN!” The man screamed, Daemon was moving, running, though he knows he will not make it in time as he pulls Dark Sister for her sheath.

A thunderous roar came from above and the ceiling shattered open. Stones fall, hitting random people, Daemon barely avoids being crushed, though nothing falls on the assassin and Aegon. Like himself, everyone is expecting to see golden scales and firebreath. Instead of Sunfyre though, it is another, much bigger dragon.

This dragon has scales as dark as a star free sky. Black scales seemed to glow under the firelight in the room. Not as big as Vhagar, but from the piercing green in his eyes, Daemon is surely much stronger. His jaw is covered in blood. Cannibal. The dragon eater.

Daemon’s head whipped around to look at his son. Suddenly his eyes are not his own, instead they glow a fierce green, the very same as the dragon snarling from above. Even the assassin seems stunned into silence. Aegon uses the distraction to shove the man away and run toward Daemon.

The movement catches Cannibal’s attention, he jumps down, but before he can touch Aegon, Rhaegar growls and the dragon stops. He turns to the boy and the two stare at one another for a long time, before Cannibal, believed to be the oldest living dragon, stomps forward to bow his head to the babe.

Then as suddenly as he had come, Cannibal jumps and soars away. Lord Stark puts a sword through the assassin’s heart before Daemon can. Though he does catch Aegon as he falls into his embrace. All around them people fall to their knees, chanting ‘THE DRAGON PRINCE!”

Chapter Text

Once the chanting starts it does not stop, it becomes a roar in Daemon’s ears. A death sentence for his mate and their children. He feels it in the buzz of the room, the hatred seeping off of Rhaenyra in waves. The choice would no longer be hers, she would have to remove Aegon’s head or the war would start without either of their blessings.

In that moment all the people saw was a miracle, a true display of godlike power, from an infant, a babe, the weakest of all creatures. He did not risk his life on the back of a dragon as Targaryens should to make their claim. No, Rhaegar called forth a dragon and the dragon came. Not just any dragon, but a ferocious, untamable, dragon eating monster.

Not only had the dragon come when called like a pet hound, but had bowed before him, ducked its head as a servant would before a King. A true King, a true dragon, indeed. Jaecaerys would not be able to hold his head as high in comparison. Rhaenyra’s claim looks weaker, more pathetic with each word of the chant, with each breath.

The final blow.

The people, the lords and ladies who govern the different factions of their realm fall to their knees before Rhaegar. There is no taking back what has happened. It is not Rhaegar, Rhaenyra has her sights on, but Aegon. Getting rid of their son would do very little. Aegon is carrying another child born of an Omega’s blessing.

No, to stake her claim, to keep her position she would need to get rid of Rhaegar and Aegon, along with the unborn babe he carries. As long as they live, she will never be seen as the true heir. Daemon has no doubt, Otto will use this to see Aegon on the throne.

Fuck.

Aegon is meeting his sister’s gaze. There in Daemon’s arms, Aegon holds her eyes, a challenge, knowledge. Gone is the weak drunk they knew. Now stands an omega with the strength and determination to protect his children. A protective hand covering his stomach.

Before Daemon has time to figure out how he will handle this new update, Aegon is shoving away from his arms. He bows slightly with a ‘thank you’ toward Lord Stark and heads toward his younger siblings to retrieve his son. As protective as the siblings are, they hate each other with equal measure, and Aegon is not foolish enough to forget that.

Aegon barely looks back at his sister and their people, he turns from the room and leaves with grace, his head held high. Daemon wants to follow, help him, check on him, like a fire in his veins. This is something he knows he cannot do. Not right now, not with a war declared in unspoken words. If Daemon follows Aegon it will be an act of loyalty, Rhaenyra will see it as the final blow to ignite a true fight.

Staying has the same unfortunate consequences he knows. Aegon will decide that Daemon has taken Rhaenyra’s side should he stay. This one moment, small and insignificant as it appears, will hold the hands of fate. Aegon carries their second child and Rhaenyra has already given him two.

His feet remain stuck to the floor, unmoving as the people begin to gossip and disperse around him that the ‘Dragon Prince’ has been taken to bed. Daemon sees his own concern, the fight of internal loyalty, on the other’s faces as well. Rhaenyra’s own children adore Aegon, but he knows they will choose her.

Baela and Rhaena will side with their future husbands. Daeron, Haelena, and Aemond will all side with Aegon, naturally. There is no love lost between the three youngest and the oldest. No matter their tiffs with Aegon they will side against Rhaenyra. Rhaenys is another matter, she believes Rhaenyra responsible for her son, but was also the ‘Queen that never was’, she could go either way.

Viserys will always choose Rhaenyra, but he is weak and will not last much longer. Then it really does not matter what he wants. Daemon is a dragon, a Targaryen first and foremost. As much as he despises members of their family, he does not wish for them to split down the middle for this war. Not when his own children lay on both sides.

The bond, the mark on Aegon, compels him to choose Aegon, wants him to protect and guard over his new family. Though his more stubborn side fights it, remembers that he chose Rhaenyra before the bond and he cannot be sure what he desires about Aegon is not merely the bond being forced onto him. Daemon is nothing, if not his own man.

His mind starts trying to come up with a plan. For a brief moment he wonders if he can convince Rhaenyra to keep Aegon and their children locked away, a prize, to showcase her powers and mercy. Then his stomach rolls at the image in his mind of Aegon being locked away, unable to see Sunfyre at all, his children growing up away from dragons.

Then he reminds himself that if his son can control Cannibal there will be no caging them. He could kill one of them, he has the ability to go to either bed whenever he chooses. Daemon could decide the end of the war right now, could choose who will sit the throne. Could strike down the other and sit as the ‘Prince Consort’ with whomever he chooses.

That way the battle will have been won before it even begins. Should he choose Rhaenyra and take out Aegon, it would also cost him the child still nestled in his womb. A sharp pain shot through his stomach straight to his heart, a warning in the bond for such thoughts. Then she would have Rhaegar executed or ‘vanished’. While on the other hand, if he chooses Aegon, if he kills Rhaenyra, Aegon has no reason to harm anyone else.

Aegon has no reason to harm any of Rhaenyra’s children. Without her, it is laughable to even think Jaecaerys would hold any claim. Especially with it so obvious he is not a Velaryon. No, if he kills Rhaenyra then only she would die. Though he doubts the boys will not try to take revenge upon him.

The bond, logic, demands he chooses Aegon. His mind and his loyalty demand he chooses Rhaenyra. And his heart feels torn, for the first time in his life, he does not have a plan. Without looking at her he announces to everyone he is going for a fly. Departing from both, he needs a moment to clear his head. Images of Rhaegar the Ruthless pushing a blade through his chest resurfacing.

His mind is already putting dragons on one side or the other. Rhaenyra is severely lacking in dragon power, with Aemond holding Vaygar and Rhaegar potentially calling Cannibal to aid should he be frightened. They would need to ensure the babe is nowhere near them when they attack. He is still too young to understand anything, it was not a direct order, or else Cannibal would not have tried for Aegon.

Daemon would need to get more information on Omegan Borns. Too little is known and clearly they will need information on their particular capabilities. With Aegon close to bursting with their second child.

Daemon stops in his tracks causing the hall to fall deathly silent as he realizes his mind is already planning how to get Rhaenyra ahead. He feels something in him pull tight, has he already made up his mind?

Before the thought can truly sink in, a maid is screaming down the hall and running his way.

“MY LORD, MY LORD, IT’S THE PRINCE!” Daemon knows she must mean Aegon or Rhaegar, everyone else is still back in the hall. He is moving forward without thought, following her as she turns on her heels running back the way she came.

“What has happened?” He shouts as they move.

“Prince Aegon is in labor! I could not find a Maestar!” She bellows, clearly fearful, young.

“Go to the ballroom, find help, NOW.” He snarls the last word at her as he runs forward. He can feel Aegon through the bond, pulling him toward him, though he had not felt his distress through his own before.

Then he hears the screams before he sees him, blood curdling things. Far more pain than when he birthed Rhaegar. More similarly to what he imagined when Rhaenyra lost their daughter. He steps slowly, then brings him to a halt just outside the door.

Daemon could stay out here, could let the babe die, could allow Aegon to fall on his own sword. This was his original plan anyhow, to allow Aegon to die while giving him children. This would also eliminate a child before Rhaenyra would need to.

“DAEMON!” Aegon screams his name, every few words it is his name being screamed. Now that he is so close he can tell. Not a cry as if he knows that he is already there, but one pleading for him.

Daemon sent that woman to the ballroom. Right into Rhaenyra’s arms. She would give her future queen the news before she would give the others. If Rhaenyra ordered her tongue to be silent, no would come.

He pushes the door open as his mind spins with the thoughts of just allowing fate to take its course. Aegon’s head jerks up, he is on his knees, his hands pressed into the wall above the bed. He is covered in sweat, tears, and Daemon sees a pool of blood on the bed between his legs. The blood covers the bottom of his shirt, his thighs smeared with it. Laena pops into his head, covered in blood as she stumbles toward her dragon.

The relief on Aegon’s face only lasts a second, before it is clouded with suspicion when no one comes in behind him. Daemon knows that Aegon is having the same thought that Daemon was having only a moment prior. If Daemon gets rid of Aegon now, the war will end before it begins.

His eyes sweep the room, looking and finding Rhaegar bundled up at the edge of the bed, away from the door. Aegon tracts his eyes, and to his surprise a snarl rips from the man’s throat. His eyes become those gorgeous dragon slits. A warning, a threat. Daemon is aware that the boy has every reason to distrust him, and yet it does little to hold the sting off.

Wounded, bleeding out, crying, in immense pain, and his mate is forced to keep his guard up even now. Daemon takes a step closer and Aegon snarls again, his legs shaking. Barely holding himself up.

“I’ve sent the maid to get help.” A half-truth, if his suspicions are correct.

“Ba…llroom…” Aegon gasps before falling into another scream, louder and harder to face now that he can see his mate.

“I wasn’t in the ballroom, I was down the hall, heading this way.” He is careful with how he words it. He does not bring up that he was heading to fly not to Aegon’s side, but something does soften about the boy before him at his words. Daemon does not correct the misunderstanding.

He walks the rest of the way to the bed. Aegon still watches him warily, but does not snarl again. Rhaegar is just watching, staring at Daemon with those endless eyes. Part of him expects Cannibal to burst through the door any moment, seeing Aegon in so much distress. He wonders if Rhaegar can tell that it is merely his sibling trying to make its way into life.

Another scream, and Daemon is moving to help hold Aegon up. He has no knowledge of how to birth a child, and he really would be more help finding someone who did. When he was contemplating doing just that, the door bangs open.

It is not the maid though, not a Maester, not Rhaenyra, or even an assassin. It is Lord Stark, he looks between them in shock. Then he is moving and talking in one. Dropping his winter coat upon the ground, rolling up his sleeves, and Daemon does not disguise his growl.

“I’ve birthed many foals, cattle, hounds, I can help.” Before either of them can answer, he is on the bed behind Aegon. Something that makes Daemon grab at his hip.

“I’M NOT AN ANIMAL!” Aegon growls out between gritted teeth and a pained whimper.

“I’m aware, but there is no time to find someone else. I heard your screaming on the way back to my room, and the head is coming.” He explains, before looking at Daemon without hesitation. “Help keep him upright, this is going to be the best position for the birth.”

“I…alright.” Daemon can do nothing but nod, unsure what else to do. Being a jealous monster could cost Aegon and their babe, their lives.

Thankfully the maid prepared a bowl of water and linens, before she ran away screaming for help. Daemon has trouble focusing on anything but the fog in his brain as he watches Stark gently talk to Aegon through the birth and Aegon cries, screams, and curses. Though Aegon holds his hand when it is offered.

It feels like hours have passed, though he knows that cannot be true or else surely someone else would have heard the screams and come to help. Stark is cursing now, struggling to deliver their children, and Daemon cannot move to assist with the strength Aegon is gripping his hand, pushing it against the wall, more blood pouring from his legs.

At this rate Daemon thinks Aegon will die even if the child survives, he almost says it, to abandon the babe and focus on stopping the bleeding. The words are on the tip of his tongue. Despite knowing they will cause Aegon to truly hate him, should he not already. Fortunately or unfortunately Stark speaks first.

“The wings are stuck, I need to push them closer and closer to pull them free, it will feel like you are dying.” He says it so calmly, like he is not speaking about a human child at all. Like this is not world shattering news. Wings. How?

“Is it dead?” Aegon cries out, shaking and almost falls forward, Daemon’s arm the only thing keeping him upright.

“No, the babe is breathing.” Wings! Alive? The baby is alive and it has wings! Daemon can think of nothing else.

Aegon releases the worst scream yet. His eyes roll back as he collapses. Daemon catches him, moving so his torso is leaning on his chest rather than the wall. Then the crying starts, an infant's cry, loud, shrill, and strong. Much stronger than Rhaegar’s own.

“Congratulations, Prince Daemon, you have a daughter.” Stark holds up the baby, covered in afterbirth and Aegon’s blood. A girl, with long wavy white hair, purplish skin that will fade, two curled up wings close to her sides, twitching, movement, not dead appendages, but functioning at least for not. Her face, her hands, and her feet all covered in pearl white scales, the rest of her looking human.

Rhaegar starts chirping from where he watches them and just like that the babe’s crying stops. She falls silent as if listening to her brother. Chirping, as if they were fresh dragons not human children. Daemon has no time to watch this process as Stark shoves the girl into his arms, and moves to stop the bleeding.

Hours pass in a blur, eventually a maid returns, then she brings a Maester to assist them. They congratulate Stark on his quick thinking to stop the bleeding, but Daemon is not paying enough attention to hear what he did.

All of his focus is on the door, watching, guarding his new little family, the babe tucked into a sleeping Aegon’s right side, while Rhaegar is now laying against his left. Both babies fast asleep. The maid had to help Daemon get the baby to latch onto Aegon’s nipple while he slept to ensure she ate.

Now the sun has begun to rise, the Maester is in the corner chatting with the maid on what Aegon will need. Stark is still here, though Daemon cannot see why. His part has long since been over. He is just sitting on the edge of the bed looking in wonder at the baby and Rhaegar.

“They truly are born of magic,” Stark mutters quietly.

“How else did you think a man could carry and birth children?” Daemon snorts, wrapping his arms a little tighter around the three in his lap. Protective, though he has no right to be.

“I suppose that is true, she’s beautiful, a true wonder. And the boy, well he will surely do great things in this life.” Daemon hates the look of admiration on Stark’s face, as if he wants to wrap them up in a warm blanket and hide them away from the horrors of the world. Perhaps he would, should Daemon ever give him the chance.

“Indeed, MY children are special.” A childish comment, but he cannot take it back, not with the possessive pull of the bond demanding he keep Aegon away from potential matches.

“They are, though in a parents mind I imagine all children are special. My own son certainly holds my attention.” Stark gives a gracious smile, a truce, Daemon only rolls his eyes.

Aegon wakes up blurry eyed a few hours more later. Then he looks confused between the two men, before his eyes settle on the baby. His smile is breathtaking as he pulls her to his chest. Daemon can tell Stark is not unaffected.

“Thank you! Thank you so much Lord Stark!” Aegon says as he leans forward out of Daemon’s embrace to beam at the man, clearly remembering what happened.

“Cregan is fine, I assure you. And it was my honor to deliver the princess, Prince Aegon.” He gives a curt bow and Aegon’s face lights up further. It is like he has forgotten Daemon is even here.

“Cregan, still you should be rewarded, you came right on time, I doubt I would have lasted longer.” He is leaning farther forward, moving to his knees.

At first Daemon’s anger flares, thinking that Aegon is trying to get closer to Stark, but the boy shifts so his left side is against Daemon so he can check on Rhaegar. That’s when it occurs to him that Aegon is merely trying to get off his backside, most likely in a lot of pain and trying to hide it.

He knows as he watches Aegon shoot him an affectionate smile before cooing at a sleeping Rhaegar, that he does not deserve Aegon. If he were a kind man, a good man, he would suggest Stark marry Aegon and take him away from this place. But he has never been kind or good.

“We will see to a proper reward for your assistance, Lord Cregan Stark.” Daemon drawls and Aegon shoots him a grateful look, something that causes him to wrap an arm around his hips, and help him cradle the baby to take the weight off him. “Is there anything else, Stark.”

“No, no, and there is no need to reward me. You are my Princes and it is my doubt to serve you, delivering the babe is serving the realm, after all.” He bows politely and stands up with one more glance back at the little family they make and turns, leaving them alone. The Maesters and maids have left during their conversation.

“Do you think she’ll be able to fly?” Aegon asks once Stark leaves. A child-like awe on his face, a vulnerability it waited till they were alone to show. He is caressing her wings gently in wonder, watching them shift. The little talons at the top curl around his finger as he passes them.

“I wonder about that myself, they certainly have movement, they may not grow with her though, they are not proportionate to her body as hatchlings wings are to theirs." He explains, as he rubs the man’s back, pulling gently so that Aegon can lay on his side on Daemon’s chest.

“Still they are beautiful,” Aegon says, and smiles at the babe. “Rhaegar’s going to be a good brother.”

“If he is anything like you, I have no doubt.” This rewards Daemon with soft lips on his and a toothy smile.

“I was an awful big brother, I certainly hope he does not take after me.” He chuckles and his eyes slowly close. Trapped in the little moment Daemon also allows himself to drift off to sleep.

___________________

There is music in the background and the world feels blurred around the edges. Another dream, he realizes as he follows the music. He expects an older Rhaegar to be waiting for him with Dark Sister.

Instead he finds Aegon sitting in a chair laughing and clapping along to the music. In his arm sits a babe, not even two of age. It is neither Rhaegar or the new baby, this one has dark brown hair, deep in color, and is wearing a winter coat.

Dancing in front of Aegon is two children, ten and two, ten and one, though he does not know how he knows their ages. Rhaegar and his new sister. They are jumping around, dancing together, laughing. Though his son’s laugh is more a growl than anything, the baby girl’s laugh is angelic, and more than human.

Large white-scaled wings, with pink veins on the inside whoosh behind her as she dances. Certainly large enough to carry her should she wish to fly. He hears whispers but cannot tell where they are coming from, ‘Rhaegar the Righteous, the crown heir’. There is snow all around them. Daemon cannot look away from the brown haired babe in Aegon’s arms.

________

Daemon snaps awake, reaching his arms to pull Aegon closer, only to find him not there. When he jerks up, his heart only slows when he sees Aegon laying on his back, hoisting Rhaegar up and down as he makes that growling-laugh sound. The baby lays fast-asleep between Daemon and Aegon.

“Sorry…did we wake you?” Aegon stops mid lift when he notices Daemon staring.

Laughter, he dreamt of laughter, and what he assumes must have been Stark’s child. Could Aegon even have a non-Targaryen child. It has never even been attempted before. Omegas were always wed to Targaryens.

“No, bad dream.” He says simply and Aegon studies his face. Daemon knows he is deciding if he can trust Daemon’s words, even for something as small as this. If Stark gave Aegon an out, would he take it?

“Prince Daemon, Prince Aegon,” A maid calls from behind the closed door. “His grace, Princess Rhaenyra, and the rest of the royal family are on their way.”

“Thanks.” Aegon called out, though all the cheer in his voice vanished. He moves to sit up which causes a nasty flinch, and pulls Rhaegar closer to his chest.

“Relax, it will be fine.” Daemon offers, though he knows it's a lie.

“You should work on your lies, hus-Uncle.” Aegon catches himself, glaring at the wall in front of them, something having disturbed him in the moment since their little bubble was broken by that maid.

“I am not lying, Aegon.” He shoots back, the use of his name does get the boy to look at him, his youth and vulnerability seeping through like honey. He wants to trust Daemon, it is written all over his face, but the older man has given him numerous reasons not to.

“Would you kill me?” Aegon asks bluntly, looking him dead in the eye. “If Rhaenyra ordered it would you kill me, Uncle? Husband.”

“Aegon…” Daemon starts and stops, unsure what to say and that was answer enough. The last of Aegon’s vulnerability vanishes in the face of the mask he wears.

“Would you kill our children?” This question Daemon was spared from answering as the sound of voices started to approach.

Daemon stood from the bed, watching as Aegon placed Rhaegar next to his hip, shielding him from the door, and scooped up the new born. Still unnamed and still as magical as her birth. Rhaegar is not looking at Aegon however, nor at the door with the voices behind it, he is staring at Daemon once more.

“Enter.” Aegon answered when a sharp knock on the door signaled their arrival. Viserys was pushed in first in his movable chair, everyone else falling in behind him, Rhaenyra shoots Daemon a nasty look.

“So, this is the newest Targaryen, Lord Stark was not lying about her wings!” Viserys sounds so in awe, reaching up a withered hand to touch the scaly appendage. “What name have you both decided?”

“We have not yet…” Daemon does not get to finish before Aegon is cutting him off.

“Visenya.” Daemon’s head snaps to Aegon. Visenya was the name of Rhaenyra and his own daughter. The one stillborn, the birth that had cut Rhaenyra to her core.

Aegon is looking Rhaenyra straight in the eye when he says this. A challenge. Fuck. Daemon feels himself tense, his body ready for her to lung. The noise in the room is silent, threatening. The only one who seems oblivious to the tension is the King himself, smiling proudly at his grandchild.

“Visenya, what a lovely name.” He says with a gentle smile. Daemon cannot tell if in his ailment Viserys has simply forgotten it was their daughter’s name or if he thinks Aegon is honoring her.

It is not like Rhaenyra and he has a right to complain about stolen names when their own son is named Aegon the Younger.

“Your first wife gave you no children, your second gave you daughters, your third sons, and now I am providing you with both.” Aegon said it in his honey-sweet tone, the one he saves for servants he is tricking into something or whores.

Daemon does not know if he is pushing Rhaenyra due to knowing that she cannot allow him to live or if he is pushing Daemon out of spite for his lack of an answer prior. Either way it is a dangerous game that could cost him his life. Viserys laughs at Aegon’s half-joke.

“You always were the funniest of my children,” Viserys slaps Aegon on the back with a coughing-laugh that dissolves into pure coughing, which Aegon turns away from, shielding his child.

Though Daemon does not miss the way Aegon’s eyes widen and his cheeks flush at the praise. Viserys has never really praised Aegon before. No really does.

The noise around him gets lost in his thoughts, as he watches Rhaenyra stew in anger. Aegon watches Viserys in a new light, like a moth to flame, a boy desperate for his neglective father’s approval.

Despite everything, their lives, their bonding, their children, his growth over the years. Despite all of that, Aegon is but a boy, neglected and alone. Still striving to belong, to be loved. His children love him for sure, but they rely on him. Aegon wants to be loved unconditionally, he wants someone to choose him. Even now. Even with the threat of war on the horizon.

He is not picky with which the love is given, familiar love, friendship love, siblings love, in love, devotion, he merely wants someone to see him. Daemon often forgets that this fact remains no matter how much the boy changes. It is not that he wants Stark, or has even thought that he could choose someone besides Daemon.

It is merely that Stark looked at him, showed him attention, so he thrived in it. Glowed even. Aegon would not betray him, would not leave him, his eyes never wavered or wondered. He merely was enjoying having someone look at him without malice, or uncertainty.

The fundamental truth is, Aegon is lonely, and Daemon cannot give him what he needs. The brown-haired babe from his dreams forces his fists closed and his mind wonders how long Aegon can last being so lonely.

Chapter Text

He is sitting on a stone, in a dark room, in a decaying castle. There is a woman dancing, though he does not know who she is. As she turns around, her long white hair swaying with her, her eyes are completely white, blind. Daemon wants to call out to her, but he cannot move.

There is this feeling in his chest, he should respect this woman, should protect her. A beautiful girl, just barely of age, if that, her face rounded, more beautiful than Rhaenyra or Haelena. She looks more like Aegon than any of his other nieces and nephews. She has no visible scales or wings. Not Visenya then. Perhaps a Targaryen of the past.

“Aemma,” Aegon’s voice pierces the quiet, and Daemon sees the boy, no man appears. He is older, his hair cut shorter, a burn on the left side of his face, his smile still soft. “What are you doing?”

Aegon looks his way, following the way she tilts her head toward him. Though it is clear Aegon does not see what she hears.

“Listening to Father.”

“Ah, what is the old man saying this time?” Aegon chuckles, amusing her as everyone does with Haelena’s ramblings.

“Nothing he cannot speak.” She explains with another tip of her head, Aegon raises an eyebrow, but does not mock her.

“Where is he?” Aegon continued to indulge her. Daemon feels something pulling on his stomach.

“He is lost…he must make a choice…” Aegon’s smile falters.

“He never was good at that, was he.” It was not a question.

“PAPA!” Another child comes racing forward, as he runs up he has the Targaryen white hair, wavey, and pale skin, but his image is blurry, shifting, and when he settles at Aegon’s side his hair is a deep brown, his skin tanner and fuller in shape. “Stop playing with Aemma, you’re supposed to teach me archery, you promised!”

“I did, didn’t I? Coming.” As Aegon ran his hand through the offensive hair it shifted again, back to white, and as he turned to run away his face turned toward Daemon. Aegon’s spitting image. Daemon shook his head confused as the boy ran away.

“Aemma, leave your father be, let him make his own mistakes.” Aegon says simply as he turns to walk away.

“Every decision he makes then, affects now. Do you not want him to make the right choice?”

“His choices, were his choices, he chose his path, his life, his…end…” Aegon looks sad, but shakes it off with a small chuckle. “Stop looking to the past Aemma.”

Aegon walks away into the darkness as the girl stays in place. Aemma, she is named after Rhaenyra’s mother, she must be born during the tension. Visions or the dreams of a madman, how is he supposed to know? When they change so frequently.

“The future is not set in stone,” Aemma says as if reading his mind. “Can they not be both, a vision, a dream, a warning, they are how you deem them.”

“You don’t exist.” Daemon says, shocked when his voice works.

“I will.”

“In this…dream…what choice did I make?”

“Dance with me.” She says as she walks forward toward him.

“What I…no answer my question,” he is annoyed when he feels regret being harsh toward this non-existent daughter.

“We never got to dance together,” She says instead, sticking her hand out. “Dance with me Daddy.”

Something in him snaps and he slaps her hand away, shocked how real she feels. He looks at his own hand.

“Every decision you make affects everything.”

*puff* Just like that she is gone and he is alone in the dark.

He feels himself fall and then he is in the sky on Caraxes. And he is being chased. As he turns to look at his pursuers it is his two children. A much older Rhaegar sits upon Cannibal, a terrifying beast catching up with each beat of his wings, and Visenya on Grey Ghost, her wings tucked against her back.

Daemon dives to avoid Cannibal’s jaws. Rhaegar growls and hisses on his dragon, his sister answering in kind. It takes him a moment to realize they are talking to their dragons, in a way no human should be able to, and the siblings fly like they own the sky. True dragons.

This point is only proven as Visenya slides off of Grey Ghost and her wings expand sending her soaring, boxing him in. Dark Sister sits upon Rhaegar’s hips and Daemon knows how this vision ends.

The pair make it to land before they are caught, slamming into it too hard, throwing him from Caraxes’ back. His loyal dragon throws himself over Daemon as Cannibal bites at him, locking his ferocious jaw around Caraxes tearing his head from his neck. Daemon lets out a pained cry of outrage.

He jumps to his feet, pulling a blade from his belt, a blade he has never seen before. Rhaegar dismounts as Cannibal consumes Caraxes. Pulling Dark Sister from her sheath. Though this time Visenya stands at his side, her own blade dangling in her hand.

“Hello Father.” She hisses, Rhaegar growls next to her, glaring Daemon down.

“Do not make me a kinslayer,” Daemon says, holding his place, refusing to back down even as Grey Ghost lands behind him hissing. If he dies here, even in a dream, he’ll do it with his head raised.

“You already are, remember?” She snarls, both dragons growling in unison at her anger.

“Dance with me daddy,” For half a second the warrior changes to a little girl, her wings outstretched as she pulls him by his hand trying to get him to dance. Aegon is there with a sad, distant face, as he pulls his hand away from her.

Then he is back on the cliff with the two fierce warriors his children become. Aemma said that his choices matter, yet he always finds himself at the end of his own blade.

“Where is Rhaenyra?” He asks, finding it too painful to ask about Aegon, worried that he is the kin that Daemon may have slain. Rhaegar hisses and chirps happily at him, a deranged smile lighting his face up.

“Ha, he said she was delicious, a real treat!” She laughed, and Daemon took a step back, only a small one not forgetting the dragon at his back. Why isn’t he waking up? Damnit, WAKE UP!

Rhaegar growled, chirped, and snarled more making his sister laugh.

“He said we won’t even give you the honor of being a meal, no, we’ll leave you here torn to pieces, forgotten, and unimportant.” She sneers. His voice, Visenya, is Rhaegar's voice. It is only now he is realizing, Rhaegar has Rhaenyra’s crown upon his head.

“What did I do? How do I fix this?” He pleads with the dreamt version of his children.

“It’s too late, you’re too late!” She hisses, then they lounge at him.

“You chose wrong!” Aemma’s voice is in the back of his head as he jerks awake, sweat pouring from his brow.

Instead of waking he jerks in a seat, looking around the ballroom, music drifting around the room. He jerks his head to the side, to see Aegon sitting upon the throne. His own seat, a throne chair. Sitting upon Aegon’s head is the crown, his stomach swollen with child.

Sitting in Daemon’s own lap are two children, a set of twins, and boys. They are playing with a doll between him, laying at one another. They look human, their Targaryen hair white. Aemma, the white-eyed woman, is now just a girl, crawling at his feet, thumb in her mouth. Rhaegar and Visenya are on the dance floor, hopping about with other noble children, two of which are Aemond and Haelena’s twins.

As he scans this new environment, this new vision, he notes Rhaenyra’s oldest children lacking a presence, along with his oldest daughters. Viserys II and Aegon the Younger are also missing, though Joffrey is front and center, dancing with Rhaegar and Visenya. Though he is now a boy no more, warrior age.

A dark haired girl dancing beside him, the same chocolate brown hair and darker skin. Her stomach is swollen much like Aegon’s own. With his mind waiting he realized, without knowing how he knows, that the babe from his vision whom he thought was Stark’s, it is this girl’s and Joffrey’s.

Aegon had merely been holding his nephew’s child.

Aemma is not the child after Rhaegar and Visenya here, another dragon-child dancing further up the room, His tail long and swinging behind him, his ears pointed with webbed endings, all sharp teeth to showing with his laughing face, pulled out more like a snout then a human face.

Visenya stops what she is doing and runs up to him.

“Dance with me Daddy?” She holds out her hand, a gentle face, sweet, innocent, nothing like the warrior who just chased him down like prey. He looks at Aegon who looks amused. No burn on his face, no wrinkles, still young, still beautiful.

“It’s your choice,” Aegon waves off his question. “Always.”

Daemon slowly hands Aegon the twins and stands up to dance with his daughter. As he is dancing Baela and Rhaena both come through the door in gowns, a wary energy around them as they enter. Keeping to the edges, unsure.

“Visenya, Visenya!” A little voice calls, running over with a flower in hand, a white haired boy, with plump cheeks and trusting eyes. It takes him a moment to realize it is Aegon the Younger. “For you My Princess!”

Rhaegar growls at him, threateningly.

“Rhae, be nice to your brother.” Aegon calls out, snoring at the boys, and Rhaegar growls again but plants himself between Aegon and Visenya.

“Oh my, you’re such a sweet big brother,” She giggles then beams. “I bet you wish you got a flower from Lord Rickon Stark.”

She makes a swooning motion toward Rhaegar who immediately starts snarling and hissing at her, while she laughs at him. Eggy only watches the two with amusement. That’s when Daemon saw it, on the back of his neck, almost unnoticed with all his other scales, but a patch all the same. Rhaegar is an omega just like Aegon.

The environment is joyous, and Aegon’s laugh is dancing all around him as their children tease one another. Then the world shifts and it is not a party he stands in, but a massacre. All around him people scream, beg, and cry. His children are gone, though Rhaegar’s cries can be heard trying to get past the crowd to them. Visenya is screaming, fighting to get passed.

Daemon turns around to see Aegon curled in on himself, unmoving, bleeding from a wound hidden under him, Rhaenyra stands at the throne. Syrax stands at her side, waiting for the order. He feels it before he sees it, Dark Sister in his hand covered in Aegon’s blood.

Daemon drops it and takes a shocked step back.

“Dracarys” Rhaenyra hisses, right as Syrax releases a burst of fire, Sunfyre, Cannibal, and Grey Ghost all burst through the wall. Sunfyre slams his head into Syrax, pushing his fire to the side, it just catches Aegon on the side of the face, shoulder and arm as it flies away from him.

Daemon is so distracted he barely moves in time when a very young Rhaegar appears at his hip swinging Dark Sister at him.

“Leave it Rhae, we have to go!” Visenya calls in her child shrill voice. It is Grey Ghost that scoops an unconscious Aegon and starts to fly away, Sunfyre close behind. Cannibal allows both Rhaegar and Visenya on his back as the dragons all take flight. Syrax is too scared to challenge the three. Rhaegar flies away with Dark Sister as things start to fall into place.

He is plunged into darkness.

“It is your choice.” Aemma says, she is standing beside him once more, a young woman once again.

“I did not choose this…this is what I want…” she remains unmoving, no expression.

“What do you want?”

“I…” He frowns. “What do you all want from me?”

“I want a father.” She gives a sad smile. “Though I will not get one.”

“I don’t raise you?”

“Not as you are now.”

“Stop with the fucking riddles! Just tell me!”

*Suddenly he is in the room the day after Visenya’s birth once more.

“Relax, it will be fine.” A hollow answer.

“You should work on your lies, hus-Uncle.”

“I am not lying, Aegon.”

“Would you kill me?” Aegon asks bluntly, looking him dead in the eye. “If Rhaenyra ordered it would you kill me, Uncle? Husband.”

“Aegon…” The silence is deafening

“Would you kill our children?”

“Would you kill me?” Aemma mimics the words, facing him though unseeing.

“I don’t know you…”

“You know Papa…You know Rhaegar…would it matter if you knew me?”

“I…I don’t know Aegon, I only know what the bond forces me to, and Rhaegar is…he..” Daemon loses his words.

“You fear him.”

“He’s a baby!”

“You fear what he is capable of.” She purses her lips. “Everyone is, eventually. Rhaegar the Ruthless, Visenya the Vicious.”

“I…” He does not know what to say to that.

“He is not born ruthless nor is he vicious, they are what you make them to be.” She sighs and looks around. “It’s your choice, always.”

_______________________________________________________

He wakes with a start. Covered in sweat and staring at the ceiling of a guest room in the castle. Damn.

Chapter Text

They could not remain at Dragonstone forever and the tension was only mounting the longer they stayed, so they chose to leave. Once again ripping Aegon from the home he has always known and the only true family he trusted, even if razor thin.
The sea wind bit sharply at Daemon’s face as Dragonstone’s jagged cliffs rose ahead, dark against the gray sky. The dragon’s wings pounded on all sides, carrying them back to a home grown cold with uncertainty. Cannibal flying above them all, watching, waiting. Dangerous.
Behind him, Aegon sat quiet, eyes distant yet watchful, while Rhaenyra’s gaze was fixed forward, fierce and unyielding as ever. They had returned with the weight of a kingdom on their backs, but the throne’s shadows stretched longer than ever.
As they disembarked, the salty air mixed with the familiar scent of burning torches and stone. Dragonstone’s walls seemed less like a refuge today, more like a cage.
That evening, Daemon found himself alone in the great hall, the flicker of firelight casting dancing shadows on the cold stone. He sank into a high-backed chair, the ghost of the dream clinging to his mind like smoke.
Aemma’s pale eyes, white and endless, haunted the corners of his vision. The desperate dance, the cold accusation in Rhaegar and Visenya’s glare. The feeling that every choice was a thread pulling tighter around his heart.
He ran a hand through his hair, breath shallow.
“The future is not set in stone,” her voice whispered in his mind. “It’s your choice, always.”
But what choice did he truly have? The blood of Rhaenyra’s children pulsed in his veins, fierce and demanding. Yet Aegon—his nephew, his brother-in-law, his omega, his curse, his burden, his desire—would risk everything to protect his own blood. His children. Their children.
Daemon’s loyalty tore between two fires, both scorching and unforgiving. He longed to stand beside Rhaenyra, to fight for her claim, her children. He chose her of his own will, and Daemon loathes being chosen for. But Aegon’s desperate protectiveness called to him with equal force—silent, unyielding, a bond forged of dragon blood and impossible decisions.
Outside, the sea crashed against the cliffs, relentless and indifferent. Inside, the walls whispered promises of power, betrayal, and the unbearable cost of love. Love? Is that what this is? Daemon long stopped believing in such childish feelings, but the word clings to his body like a second skin.
He closed his eyes, heart pounding.
Who to choose? Who to betray?
He told Aegon once, that he was not Aegon’s to keep. But perhaps it was Aegon that was not meant to be kept.
The great hall’s fire guttered low as the night deepened. Daemon rose slowly, the weight in his chest pressing heavier with every step toward his chambers. The flickering shadows seemed to mock him—never quite revealing, never quite comforting.
He paused before the heavy door of his room, hand resting on the cold iron handle. The faces from his dream danced in his mind—Aemma’s haunting white eyes, the fierce stares of Rhaegar and Visenya, and the pleading sadness in Aegon’s.
Should he seek Aegon? Stand with his omega who chose his children, who bore the impossible burden of preventing war by silencing his own desires and dreams?
Or should he throw himself into Rhaenyra’s cause, stand beside the woman whom he chose, the woman he worked to be with to stand with, whose fire still burned bright in her eyes?
The thought tore him open.
He reached out toward the hall where both lingered — voices raised in quiet council, the distant laughter of children echoing like ghosts — and yet, he hesitated.
The hunger to choose war or peace warred within him, but the man himself felt hollow, fraying at the edges.
With a breath that tasted of regret, he closed the door softly behind him.
Tonight, he would sleep alone.
Alone with his doubts. Alone with his failures. Alone with his burdens.
And alone with the choice still waiting in the dark.

The morning sun filtered weakly through the narrow windows of Dragonstone’s great hall. Daemon sat at the long wooden table, his appetite dull, his thoughts restless. Around him, the hall buzzed with the usual morning clatter, but one presence was noticeably absent.
His eyes flicked toward the empty chair where Aegon should have been.
Disdain curled in Daemon’s gut. Always retreating. Always hiding.
Before he could let the thought fester, a small voice piped up beside him.
“Where’s Aegon?” Joffrey grumbled, crossing his arms and scowling. “He hasn’t left his room all morning. How can we play if he doesn’t come out?”
Daemon glanced down at the boy, seeing the frustration and loneliness mirrored in his young face. An annoying feeling of worry washed over him at that moment, but he pushed it away to look at the child.
“He’s... not well?,” Daemon muttered, voice rough.
Joffrey huffed. “He’s just sulking. I don’t like it. We used to run through the halls and laugh together. Now it’s just quiet.”
Daemon forced a tight smile but said nothing more.
The day dragged on, and Daemon moved through it like a shadow — silent, distant. It wasn’t until the sun hovered high near noon that something stirred in him: a quiet nagging, a growing unease that pulled him toward Aegon’s chambers.
He found the door closed, the latch unbolted. A flicker of hesitation, then a slow push, and the room came into view.
Empty.
No Aegon, no children. The bed was freshly slept in, the small chairs abandoned. And there, on the pillow, a single folded piece of parchment.
Daemon’s fingers trembled as he unfolded it, he forced them to steel, eyes scanning the sharp, familiar handwriting.
“I choose MY child.”
The words hit him like a blade. All his dreams flash before his mind as he tries to process what that could mean. He has no idea, but hesitates on the decision to take the information to Rhaenyra.
Daemon stood just beyond the heavy oaken door of Rhaenyra’s chamber, the note clenched tightly in his hand. His breath hitched with uncertainty — the weight of the words pressing down on him like a storm yet to break. He could turn and walk away, pretend he hadn’t seen it, but the truth gnawed too deeply.
Steeling himself, he pushed the door open with a slow creak.
Rhaenyra sat by the window, the morning light casting a pale glow over her pale face. Her eyes, sharp and alert, immediately caught his.
“You found this.” Her voice was calm but carried a hard edge.
Daemon nodded, stepping inside, his voice low. “Aegon and the children… they’re gone. This was left behind.” He held out the note.
Rhaenyra took it without a word, reading the brief message once, twice, before folding it back. Her eyes flicked back to Daemon, icy and unyielding.
“He’s always felt the land beneath his feet,” she said slowly, “but it’s different now. He knows what’s coming. You should feel it too.”
Daemon’s throat tightened. “If this means war—”
“We must prepare for anything.” Her gaze hardened. “If Aegon tries to move against us, we will be ready. No mercy, no hesitation.”
She stood, a queen’s poise settling over her. “And you, Daemon… be ready to choose where your loyalties truly lie.”
It’s a threat, a warning if he has ever heard one. A characteristic he believes she learned from him. His chest pulls, hurts, but he forces his face to remain the same. He cannot afford Rhaenyra seeing his hesitation or his concern.
She is right, of course. Aegon fleeing with the children would be for the best, but that does not stop the pain in his body at the idea. Knowing that he may never see them again, Aegon, his strangely shaped children, those nightmares may stop now.
The sun climbed higher, casting pale light over Dragonstone’s walls as the castle stirred with purpose. The tension between Daemon and Rhaenyra hung thick in the air, unspoken but palpable, driving them both with quiet urgency.
They moved through the day like shadowed specters of war. In the dim halls of the keep, scrolls were unfurled and sealed with wax, messengers summoned with strict instructions to ride swiftly and discreetly. Lords loyal to their cause were reminded of old oaths, subtle hints woven into the words — a call to readiness, a need for vigilance.
Daemon sat at the war table, tracing the edges of a map with a finger, marking positions and possible routes with a calculated gaze. Every line, every name, a thread in the fragile web they were weaving.
It is midday the next day when it happens.
The heavy pounding of hooves shattered the uneasy silence of Dragonstone’s courtyard as a lone rider stormed through the gates, his face pale and eyes wide with urgency.
Daemon was near the walls when the rider was quickly brought before him. The man barely caught his breath before speaking.
“Ser Daemon, word has reached King’s Landing — King Viserys is dead.”
Daemon’s heart clenched, his breath catching as the weight of the news pressed down on him.
The messenger’s voice cracked, “Without informing your party, Aegon was crowned king this morning.”
A heavy silence fell.
Daemon’s gaze darted to the keep where Rhaenyra awaited answers. Approaching her, he relayed the news.
She stared ahead, lips tight, eyes dark with fury and grief. “So he seized the crown while we were left in the dark. The game has changed.”
Daemon’s jaw tightened. “And the children?”
“They are gone with him.”
Rhaenyra’s voice was cold steel. “Then we prepare. The war is upon us whether we like it or not.”
Rhaenyra’s eyes burned with fierce determination as she met Daemon’s gaze.
“We cannot falter now,” she said, voice low but unyielding. “Aegon has taken the crown, but the throne is not his by right. Our line, my claim—it is stronger. We must rally those who will stand with us. The forging of alliances cannot wait.”
Daemon nodded slowly, feeling the weight of her words settle over him like a shroud. “We’ll send word to the lords who remain loyal. We prepare the castle and our forces quietly. No one must suspect the storm gathering beneath the surface.”
The shadow of war stretched long over Dragonstone, but in that moment, Rhaenyra’s resolve was a flame that refused to be extinguished.
Rhaenyra watched him from across the room, her expression unreadable but fierce. “We must keep this quiet,” she said, voice low, “Aegon still holds the power in King’s Landing. If he suspects what we are doing before we act, he’ll strike first.”
Daemon nodded, feeling the bitter weight of inevitability. “We prepare for a war no one wishes to declare.”

As the day faded, they moved among the castle’s inhabitants — soldiers drilled under Daemon’s watchful eye, weapons sharpened and armor polished. The servants and smallfolk whispered of strange urgency, but no one spoke openly of war.
By nightfall, the fortress hummed with quiet anticipation. The lines had been drawn, the pieces set. The calm before the storm.

Daemon stood by the battlements, staring out over the restless sea, the weight of the coming war pressing down on his chest like a living thing. His thoughts twisted relentlessly, landing again and again on his children.
Before this ends, he thought bitterly, they will be dead. Rhaenyra’s mercy runs only as far as her ambition allows, and neither Visenya nor my sons will be spared. He clenched his fists, the bitter truth stabbing deeper—Visenya’s youth and gender offered no shield. The same dismissals that men cast at her as a girl would be cast at Rhaenyra as a woman.
Aegon’s head must fall for Rhaenyra to claim the throne. The thought hit him like a punch to the gut.
His body trembled involuntarily, the omega bond thrumming deep within him—a violent pulse of agony and dread. The idea of harming Aegon, his own Omega, fractured something inside him.
How can he destroy Aegon? The question echoed hollow in the chamber of his heart, leaving him raw and broken.
Daemon’s breath caught in his throat as the truth settled over him like a stormcloud: This is no mere political maneuver. This is an act of war.
Aegon. The man who chose them to be married to stave off bloodshed, to forge a fragile peace… had ignited the very flames he vowed to avoid.
He had chosen his children. Chosen love over peace.
Daemon’s jaw tightened, eyes narrowing as anger mixed with heartbreak. This was no longer about loyalty or family—it was survival. Aegon has chosen war. And now, so must they.
Unless…
The wind bit at Daemon’s face as Caraxes soared above the cliffs of King’s Landing. His heart thundered—not from the thrill of battle, but from a crushing weight that no amount of bloodshed could wash away. Despite every fiber of his warrior’s soul craving conflict, this was different. This was personal.
As he neared the city’s jagged cliffs, two dragons met him in the sky—Cannibal and Sunfyre, the rider unmistakable. On Sunfyre’s back sat Aegon, pale eyes sharp and unreadable.
Caraxes landed heavily on the stone, sending shards skittering down the cliffside. Daemon dismounted, his boots thudding against the rocky ground.
Aegon’s gaze met his immediately. His voice was cold, sharp as dragonsteel. “I knew you’d come.”
“How?” Daemon demanded, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.
“The bond,” Aegon answered simply, but there was an edge to his voice, a brittle restraint. “I feel when you seek me. When you draw near. It’s always been there—pulling us together, pushing us apart.”
Daemon’s eyes flickered, conflicted. The bond was a chain and a compass.
“So,” Aegon continued, voice hard as stone, “you’ve come to demand what? That I kneel? Renounce the throne you think is yours by right?”
Daemon stepped closer, shadows flickering over his face. “You’ve broken us all. You’ve made this war inevitable.”
Aegon’s lips pressed thin, then his voice cracked—not with anger, but something softer, pleading beneath the cold veneer.
“Daemon... please. I’ve done everything—everything—to keep this war from happening. To keep the children safe. You think I wanted this? You think I wanted to crown myself while Viserys still lived? But it was the only way. The only way to keep Rhaenyra from killing them. My children.”
The vulnerability behind his words pierced through Daemon’s armor. He saw, suddenly, the raw ache of a man who had never been chosen, never been truly loved—only feared, used, or passed over.
All Aegon had ever wanted was to be chosen. To be wanted.
Now, with his children, he had that love. Fierce and consuming. There was nothing he wouldn’t burn to the ground to protect them.
And yet—despite the unbreakable omega bond that should have tethered Aegon’s loyalty to Daemon—he fought it with every breath. Defied it. For the sake of those small lives he held dear.
Daemon’s throat tightened.
“Does Rhaenyra know you’re here?” Aegon asked quietly, stepping down from Sunfyre, searching Daemon’s eyes for any flicker of doubt.
Daemon’s jaw clenched. “No.”
“Then you could stay,” Aegon said, voice trembling now—part invitation, part desperate plea. “Choose us. Me and the children. This doesn’t have to be war. We could be family. You could have what you’ve always wanted. You could be King.”
Daemon shook his head slowly, pain flickering in his eyes. “My loyalty is to Rhaenyra. Always. I’m bound to her, to our children.”
“You can stay,” he said again, more quietly now. “Choose us. Choose me. You don’t have to go back to her. You could finally have peace. You could have a family.”
Daemon didn’t speak. The silence between them stretched like the edge of a blade.
Aegon inhaled shakily and stepped back. The vulnerability drained from his voice, replaced by the weight of a king giving his decree.
“Otherwise, Rhaenyra must renounce her claim. Publicly. Permanently. She is to take her children and leave the realm. All of them. Far from the Crownlands, from Westeros—from me. And she is never to return.”
His eyes locked onto Daemon’s. “If she refuses, I will treat her as a usurper. And I will not hesitate.”
Daemon’s heart twisted violently. He could feel the bond between them screaming, straining against the choices being laid bare. It wanted him to choose Aegon. But duty—history—loyalty—were dragging him back toward Rhaenyra.
“Aegon…” he said, voice low and filled with pain. “You’re asking for exile. That’s not a compromise. That’s surrender.”
“I know,” Aegon whispered. Then louder: “But I will not have my children hunted. I will not let Rhaegar or Visenya die on someone else’s altar just so she can wear a crown. If I must choose between the realm and them—then the realm can burn.”
There it was. That quiet truth. The storm that had been building inside Aegon for years. No one had ever chosen him—not Viserys, not Alicent, not Rhaenyra, not Daemon.
But his children had.
And for them, he would become fire and blood.
He steadied his breath and gave the final choice.
“So pick, Daemon. Take her and leave this place forever… or die at her side when she refuses.”
Daemon said nothing.
The cliffs were silent but for the distant crashing of waves below and the restless shifting of dragons above. Sunfyre paced behind Aegon, his golden scales catching the morning light, while Caraxes stood still, as if he too were waiting on Daemon’s word. But Daemon only stared at the man before him.
The bond ached between them — a constant pressure behind his ribs, pulling him forward even as the rest of him resisted. It wasn’t just the mating bond. It was a memory. It was a possibility. It was the life they could have had.
Aegon’s eyes shimmered in the shadow of Sunfyre’s wings. He held himself still, chin raised, but his lips were parted — like he might say more. Like he wanted to scream, to fall apart, to run forward and beg Daemon to stay. But he didn’t. He knew it would do no good.
So Daemon turned.
His boot hit the stone with a hollow sound as he walked to Caraxes. Every step away made the bond scream louder — Don’t leave. Don’t leave. Don’t leave. He clenched his jaw and forced himself up into the saddle.
Caraxes shifted beneath him, wings readying.
He gripped the reins tightly, every muscle in his body taut. He should give the command. He should take to the skies. He should return to Dragonstone and tell Rhaenyra all that had transpired.
But then—
“…Please…”
Daemon froze.
“…Choose me.”
Aegon’s voice broke. Not in volume — in spirit. It wasn’t a king’s command. It wasn’t a warrior’s cry. It wasn’t a husband’s claim.
It was a plea.
A quiet, broken thing. Like a child who had been asked to survive too much and loved too little. It wasn’t just love Aegon wanted. It was to be wanted. For once. To be chosen, not used. To be fought for, not against.
Daemon could not look back.
If he did, he would fall apart.
He shut his eyes. Grit his teeth. And gave Caraxes the signal.
The dragon bellowed once, wings snapping wide — and then they were in the air, leaving behind the man Daemon might have loved the children who bore his blood, and the world that could have been.
Below, Sunfyre did not follow.
And Aegon stood there alone.