Archive of Our Own ^beta

“You should come with us,” Rhaenyra tells her.

It’s dark on a Tuesday, edging towards midnight as they finish up their date. Nothing special on the surface, but Alicent can’t help but feel like every date they treat themselves to is a gift. Perhaps it has to do with discovering her sexuality so late in her own life, that there was a time when her entire world revolved around a man old enough to be her father, who neglected her on their best days and abused her on their worst. When she was lucky enough to leave her marriage, when she had realized that her interests did not lie with men, she had resigned herself to finding happiness with her family exclusively. That the kind of love she had dreamed of as a girl would always be for the pages of romance novels, always out of reach for her.

That was, until she met Rhaenyra – a girl who makes her feel as though she’s living in a storybook.

She is hardly a girl, either. A woman in all sense of the word, strong and confident and cunning. Alicent has never met anyone like her.

“To your family home?” Alicent replies, her surprise palpable.

Rhaenyra nods, and Alicent admires the way the street lights illuminate her profile, the nock of her nose, her rose lips, the way her eyelashes cast long shadows over her sweet cheek, gone blushed in the cool of early autumn. “If you’d like,” she continues. “It’s… it’s an incredible place, really, and there’s plenty of room for you, and the kids… my boys have a school break coming up. It might be a good time to… introduce everybody. If that’s something you’re thinking of.”

Alicent has, admittedly, been thinking of it. She had never been good at keeping things from them, and especially in her messy removal from her husband, she had leaned on them as much as they leaned on her. They were a tightly knit little group, and Alicent dreaded the day she would become an empty nester.

She knew Rhaenyra was a mother as well, they both loved talking about their children, and that her boys loved going to their family home in the English countryside. It touched Alicent deeply to know that Rhaenyra would offer such a thing to her.

“I – I’m extremely flattered,” she admits, squeezing Rhaenyra’s hand in her own. “I would love to, Rhaenyra. Thank you.”

Rhaenyra looks over her shoulder to fix Alicent with a kind smile. Alicent reaches with her free hand and squeezes her bicep, and Rhaenyra responds by lifting their hands and pressing a kiss to the back of Alicent’s.

“We would love to have you,” Rhaenyra tells her, and they stroll to a stop as they approach Alicent’s apartment lobby. “All of you. I’ve talked to the boys about it already; they suggested a little secret santa for the first night, to get everyone warmed up to one another.”

Alicent melts a little, and she comes to stand in front of Rhaenyra. “I cannot wait to meet them,” she says, and her hand comes up to Rhaenyra’s cheek to pull her into a goodnight kiss.

Five stories above them, the voices of Alicent’s eldest two go back and forth.

“Oh, they’re right there!”

“They’re kissing.”

“Get it, mum.”

Aemond reaches over and flicks Aegon’s ear, but his brother only swipes at him blindly. “Don’t be disgusting,” Aemond says. He, Aegon, and Helaena are pressed against their apartment window, spying down on their mother and her girlfriend.

Helaena awws despite how poorly they can see; just one platinum head and one auburn one, a vague mass of bodies and jackets moving against one another as they kiss.

“She looks hot,” Aegon says, and then yelps again as Aemond pinches him. “She does!”

“You can hardly see her,” Aemond replies flatly.

“I hope she sees you guys creeping on her,” Daeron calls from the couch, busy pretending to have the moral high ground of not participating in said creeping despite the curiosity he shares with his siblings.

“I don’t think she can see us,” Helaena replies.

“I don’t think she’s thinking of us right now,” Aegon counters.

Aemond lets a dissatisfied huff leave his nose, watching as the two break away. The awning above their front entry blocks their view of their mother as she approaches the lobby door, but after a moment the silver-haired woman trots across the street and presumably places one last late–night kiss on her lips, then starts her walk down the street. Helaena awws again, and the three of them break away from the window.

“That was cute,” Helaena says.

Aemond says nothing, only returns to the kitchen and starts folding up the pizza box Aegon had promised to toss out so that it could fit in the recycling chute. He can’t help but disagree – it was not cute. He wishes mother had stayed home, had spent her evening with them rather than going out. He knows it’s selfish – he doesn’t particularly care.

It only takes a few moments for Alicent to come through the door, calling out that she’s home as she moves across the threshold.

“Aegon,” she sighs happily, coming up behind where Helaena sits on the couch to give her a hug, then moving over to press a kiss to Aegon’s head. “I didn’t think you’d still be here – I thought you’d all have gone off to study for your exams.” Daeron is laid across the armchair, and she touches his hair as she passes. Aemond leans against the door to the kitchen, watching her move through the room towards him before she lays a hand on his cheek as she passes through.

“Well?” Daeron calls, “How was it?”

Alicent always becomes bashful when it comes to talking about her relationship. She’s had a girlfriend for months now, and yet her family knows so little about her, outside of a vague picture of what she looks like and that she’s a businesswoman. She returns from the kitchen and sits herself down in the loveseat.

“It was lovely,” Alicent says, and no one can deny the pleased look on her face. “We went to a sweet little French place, and – well, I was going to bring this up tomorrow, but I suppose if we’re all here, I can do it now.” Alicent nips at a cuticle and then takes a big breath.

“You’re pregnant,” Aegon blurts out, taking advantage of her hesitation. Helaena and Daeron giggle along while Aemond looms behind them, the personification of a stormcloud.

“No,” Alicent scowls.

“She’s pregnant,” he counters.

“No one is pregnant,” Alicent assures him, “But she did invite us to join her family at their house in the country for the fall break.”

“We get to meet her?” Daeron perks up.

“I want to go,” Helaena follows up, “where is their house?”

Aemond sinks his teeth into his tongue.

“They live here,” Alicent says, “but they have a family home up north. They’ve got horses and a few animals, and lots and lots of property to explore. It’s a very gorgeous home.”

“A holiday home?” Aegon balks, “Mum, you’re such a gold digger.”

“None of that in the house, please,” Alicent replies as Aegon sucks in a hit from his vape. “She’s been very generous in inviting us, and I know you all have friends of your own and you don’t want to spend your term break with your mum, but I would quite like to have you all there.”

“We want to go,” Helaena assures her, and Aemond stares daggers into the back of her head.

“Yeah, we’re absolutely coming,” Daeron agrees.

Aegon casts a look over his shoulder to his younger brother. Aemond says nothing, but they don’t need words to talk. The message is clear enough.

He turns around and agrees, “Sounds like a plan.”

Alicent all but beams as she leans into her seat. “I am so very happy to hear that. Her sons suggested doing a little… secret santa thing, on the first night. To break the ice. I’ll have to organize for names and all, but just think of some things that might make good gifts. Her oldest is your age, Aemond,” Alicent looks to her son, then gives him a quiet smile. She looks between him and Daeron, then rises to her feet. “Was Aegon a good brother? Did he feed you both?” She moves about the room, checking locks and tidying things.

Daeron takes the responsibility of giving her the rundown of the night, that he and Helaena had played Mario Kart while Aemond studied, that Aegon had ordered the pizza rather than cooking what Alicent had set aside for them.

“I need to wash the day off me,” Alicent says, then looks over her shoulder to where Aegon and Helaena sit. “Are you two staying the night?”

“I am,” Aegon replies.

“Me, too.” “Can you make french toast for breakfast?” Aegon asks, to which Daeron eagerly agrees.

“I can,” she says, and Daeron clenches his fist as if he’s won something, “but I’ll make it at our breakfast time, not whenever it is you’re waking up these days.” She does a final lap around the room, kissing each of her children’s heads. “I’m going to jump in the shower, so I’ll see you in the morning – Aemond, you have school tomorrow. Make sure you get some rest.”

A chorus of goodnights follow her. Aemond finally moves from his place leaning against the kitchen doorway to sit on the loveseat. They all return to entertaining themselves until the running water shuts off two doors away and Aegon turns to his brother.

“What’s the move?”

Aemond clenches his jaw. “I want to know more about them,” he admits, “I don’t trust it.”

Helaena looks up from where she’s gone back to playing her Switch. “Know more about the family?”

“Don’t you?” Aemond looks between his brother and sister. “We ought to know something about the people we’re expected to break bread with.”

Helaena seems to consider his words for a moment, then pauses her game without looking and leans forward to pick her laptop up.

“Don’t encourage him,” Aegon says, making an abortive move to stop her with his foot. Helaena gives him a look that edges towards haunting, and Aegon stops.

Aemond leans over to watch what she’s doing while Daeron pulls himself up and moves around to the back to watch along. She pulls up their mother’s instagram page and clicks the following tab, then begins scrolling.

Daeron points to one account, “Try that one.”

She clicks one account open, then turns the computer, “Could be. The hair certainly matches.”

Certainly, it could. The account is private, though, and all they have to go on is a too-small profile picture. It could be any other woman with platinum hair. Helaena copies the name into a search engine. She clicks around a few more times, looking through LinkedIns and images, scrolling through related pictures before she happens upon a blog post by a school local to the area.

“I think this is her,” she says, and she scoots down to sit on the floor, moving her computer for everyone to see better. Aegon had already lost interest, but puts his phone down to take a look. A woman with long white hair stood beside a black man with white dreads, the two standing behind a beaming boy, pale as snow with dark brown curls.

“Jacaerys Velayron, pictured above with his parents, accepted an award for outstanding behavior and attitude at this year’s award ceremonies,” Helaena taps the search engine bar again and repeats the name as she types, Jacaerys Velaryon.

She clicks the first link that appears, a news article from Forbes. She skims it, then opens a new tab and types something quickly, then gasps. She clicks back to the blog post, then points at the man in the photo. “So this is the dad, right? That’s Laenor,” she clicks back to her most recent search, one showing the man’s name and photo. She clicks back to the news article. “Driftmark Freight Shipping heir Laenor Velayron found guilty of life insurance fraud, found alive in Switzerland following tragic faux-fire accident. Laenor Velaryon has been accused of faking his own death with the intention of committing life insurance fraud. The news comes just weeks after Vaemond Velaryon contested the will of his late nephew and heir to the Driftmark fortune, claiming that Laenor wanted his company to go to his sons, of which he has none. Vaemond claims that the children he, Laenor, raised with his wife, who has asked that her and her children’s names not be published, are not his own, and therefore should not inherit the company. Laenor’s wife and family have outright refused paternity tests that would absolve them, instead insisting that they are Laenor’s sons, and that the company should go to them because he treated them like sons of his own.” Helaena looks over her shoulder, mouth agape. “What on Earth,” she laughs.

Aemond scoffs.

“Yeah, that man is not that kid’s dad,” Aegon says, frowning.

“She sounds like a leech,” Aemond says.

“You’re just glad you have a reason to hate her now,” Aegon replies, not looking up from where he’s tapping through Snapchat stories.

“I’ve always had reason,” Aemond counters. “We – both of you came from uni tonight. Daerons home from boarding school. Don’t you think all of us being together is reason enough to stay home? And to just say, like, sorry, let’s reschedule? We barely get to be together as a family and now we have to bunk up with three bastards just to spend time together with mum.”

Helaena sends Aegon a grimace.

“He just misses his mummy,” Daeron mocks, leaning over to drape himself over Aemond.

Aemond scoffs again and moves to stand up, shoving Daeron off him.

“Hey, hey,” Aegon protests. “We’re all on the same side, right? We’ll back you up if she’s a total cunt.”

His promise seems to settle Aemond slightly, but even after they’ve all retired for the night and Aemond is tucking himself into bed, he can’t help feeling miserable about it. He goes as far as to search Jacaerys up on Instagram and scroll through his posts. He finds they have several mutual friends, but what is most interesting are his occasional father’s day and birthday posts – each one has the comments restricted.

The time leading up to their trip north goes by all too fast. Aemond wants to drag his feet, to slow things down enough to give something time to blow up and ruin the whole trip, but nothing comes. Their mother helps set up their stupid gift exchange and Helaena is too excited for his tastes. He spends a lot of time avoiding his family, save for the days that his mother moans about making dinner after a long day at work and he comes diligently to help her. He needs to remind her how good things are here, just the five of them. Nothing works; she continues on planning their trip, gushing about her girlfriend and how excited her sons are to meet them, being so happy that Daeron starts feeling guilty about having been present for their conspiracy against the Velaryons.

“I just reckon she’s probably wise enough to pick who she hangs out with, you know?” He tells Helaena one night, sitting on her bed as she decides what to pack.

Helaena shrugs. “I get it, I mean,” she replies quietly, “being wary. Especially after dad. I just feel bad making judgments before meeting them.”

It’s mid-October when they finally pack in the car and drive four hours north. Aegon takes advantage of his eldest child privilege and sits shotgun, though Aemond’s muttering from the back seat about leg room and how nice can this place be, it’s in fucking Lancashire does make him consider offering a trade when they’re stopping for bathroom breaks halfway through.

“Best behavior, please, everyone,” Alicent says as they pull onto the driveway of the estate. Her cuticles are bloody from picking throughout the drive. “Not that I think you’ll misbehave, but – we’re their guests, so just keep that in mind.”

“Cow!” Daeron calls out, not for the first time.

Aemond slips his headphones away and Alicent reaches over to shake Aegon awake.

It is an estate in every sense of the word. Vines of ivy trail up black stone brick that rises in dramatic angles from the ground, surrounded by dark forestry that gives it a kind of Grimm Brother’s feel. There are a few smaller buildings around the main castle, one attached to a stable, that are doubtlessly help houses and sheds and everything else a family could need. As the car approaches, the door swings open. Rhaenyra stands in the doorway, silver-haired and smiling, and is soon joined by three boys, waving merrily. Aemond only swallows his scoff for his mother’s sake.

“Welcome!” Rhaenyra cheers as Alicent climbs out of the car, rushing around to wrap her in a hug and give her a quick kiss. “How are you all? How was the drive?”

“Long,” Alicent sighs, and she seems all but attached to Rhaenyra already. “But we’re very glad to be here, thank you again for inviting us.”

“Thank you for coming,” Rhaenyra tells her, watching her like she’s the only person out there.

Aemond stands, one arm braced on the car, trying and failing to keep a look of irritation from his face.

“Let’s get you all inside,” Rhaenyra suggests. “I had the chef come in and make dinner, so maybe we can get you guys settled and then have dinner?”

“And do presents!” One of Rhaenyra’s boys calls.

“And do presents,” Rhaenyra nods. She takes Alicent’s hand and squeezes. “They have not stopped talking about it all day, poor Joffrey asked when you’d be arriving as soon as he woke up.”

Daeron is the first to introduce himself, taking advantage of the awkward lull Aemond and Aegon create when they take their bags inside without so much as a hello. Jace greets Helaena and shakes Rhaenyra’s hand before he jogs in after them to show them where their rooms are.

“Do you need something?” Aemond asks after Jace has pointed out their respective rooms.

He almost balks, but stands tall and strong. Jace has enough sense to know that Aemond is likely just tired from traveling, so he shakes it off. “Guess not,” Jace replies. “I’ll see you guys for dinner.”

He passes by little Joff trying his hardest to drag Helaena’s bag to her room, and Luke carrying an extra bag behind mother and Alicent – Alicent, who stops to shake his hand and thank him for his help getting her boys settled.

Aemond is the last to arrive at the table. He places his gift unceremoniously in the pile and sits down, then holds his hands out. The Hightowers all take one another’s hands, and the Velaryons fall right into place – Alicent lifts Rhaenyra’s hand in hers to press a kiss to her knuckles, a silent thanks for sharing her habits and traditions with her family. Alicent blesses their meal and begins.

“Can I get you a drink, Aemond?” Rhaenyra asks, “We have wine and beer, and I think I might be able to throw a cocktail together if you’d like.”

He looks around the table. Seeing Aegon with a glass of wine isn’t unusual – it’d be stranger to see him going sober, especially at a meal like this. Helaena has one too, but the strangest of them all was Jacaerys. He looks from the glass to the man it sits before and answers flatly, “No.”

Daeron is a good dinner guest; he’s always been a favorite at parties because of how much he excels at small talk. Helaena is too quiet for most people, Aegon usually too drunk, and Aemond finds himself often torn between being Helaena’s security blanket or Aegon’s keeper. Daeron singlehandedly entertains the three Velaryon boys, while Rhaenyra tries to talk to Helaena as best she can. Aegon drinks, and Aemond uses Jacaerys as practice for his most deadly looks.

“What happened to his eye?” Luke asks Daeron, and Rhaenyra’s neck nearly snaps with the speed she turns her head at.

“Lucerys,” she chides sharply.

Aemond watches her carefully, then fixes Lucerys with a menacing look. The boy all but shrinks into his chair, though Aemond cannot tell if it’s because of his look or because of Rhaenyra’s correction.

“Sorry,” he responds meekly, glancing between his mother and Aemond.

“Someone cut it out of me,” Aemond responds sharply. The table is silent, save for the sound of Aegon picking up his cup.

“Perhaps we should open gifts,” Alicent suggests, “if we’re finished eating.”

The table echoes with agreement, but Aemond scarcely takes his eyes off intimidating Luke.

“Ladies first,” Jacaerys says, and he picks up a box from the middle and hands it over to Alicent.

Alicent blushes, laughs, and gushes thanks when she opens it; a box of assorted bath supplies, soaks and candles and essential oils. “They all say stress on them,” she laughs, then looks up at him, “Thank you, Jacaerys, that’s very thoughtful.”

“Should I go next?” She asks, before picking up her own box. They go around just like that, each person passing their gift on to the next person. Alicent had put together some card games and the like for Luke, who had picked out a gift for Daeron, and who had in turn passed his to Aegon.

“This is why Daeron’s my favorite,” Aegon announces, showing off the cup holder that was supposed to attach to the shower wall. “It’s for beer.”

“That’s very poor taste,” Alicent tells her youngest.

Aegon gives Rhaenyra a set of pearl earrings, oblong and adorned with little quartz gems on the side that have her thanking him profusely upon opening them. Aemond gives him a dirty look – Aegon was meant to be on his side, and here he was charming her with jewels.

Rhaenyra goes next then, passing Helaena an envelope. She perks at the contents – three tickets to a show for an artist she’d liked, some gaunt-looking woman who sang about religion or cannibalism or whatever Helaena was listening to these days. Helaena thanks her too many times for Aemond’s liking – traitors, the both of them.

Helaena goes next, giving little Joffrey a pair of slippers made to look like big fuzzy spiders. He immediately runs around the table to sit in his mother’s lap for help opening them, completely uninterested in passing on the next gift. Luckily, Aemond has grown tired of this farce and reaches out to put his gift before Jace. He sits back in his chair and folds his hands in his lap, relishing in all of the eyes on him.

Jace looks pleased as he rips the paper from the box, but all at once his look sours. The smile drops from his face; the paper hasn’t even been properly ripped off, just torn on one edge. He looks up at Aemond, his look of frustration and capped rage met with a one-eyed smirk.

“Something the matter?” Aemond asks him, suddenly sitting up to lean forward toward Jacaerys.

“Not at all,” Jacaerys replies, and he pushes himself back from the table unceremoniously with an obnoxious scrape of wood on stone. Within a second, he’s turned and stormed off, leaving the rest of them watching one another at the table.

Rhaenyra is the first to lean over and pick up the box, turning it over in her hands. Aegon manages to sneak a peek at the edge and his mouth opens, turning to face his brother.

“You didn’t,” Aegon mutters to him.

Rhaenyra sighs, lifting Joffrey from her lap and following after her son. “Jacaerys!”

Alicent picks up the box, then shakes her head at Aemond. “Why would you do such a thing?” She asks him, tone straddling the line of harsh and worried.

“I’m merely trying to help, mother,” he replies, cold and matter-of-fact, a far cry from the way he usually speaks to her. “Here, perhaps you can get some use out of it, if your brother is so ungrateful,” Aemond announces. He stands and tosses the box to Lucerys, where it lands in a loud clatter on his plate. Aemond wastes no more time in making his exit, storming out in a similar fashion to go find his room once again.

Luke is next, taking Joffrey by the hand – Joffrey, who points to the table and drags his slipper-clad feet along the stone floor, calling out that Aemond had not gotten to open his present.

Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron all exchange looks while Alicent puts her head in her hands.

“On the bright side,” Aegon starts, “now you have a reason to use Jace’s gif–”

“To bed,” Alicent interrupts him, rising to her feet. She stacks Rhaenyra’s plate on her own with a touch more force than necessary. “All of you, please.

Aegon drains his cup, then follows his siblings out of the room while Alicent begins clearing the table.

There’s no discussion needed; they all go straight to Aemond’s room.

“Okay,” Aegon says, having the barest decency to be quiet once the door is shut, “like… that was actually fucking hilarious.” He finally lets himself laugh, though he does have the sense to try and be hushed about it.

Daeron has sat down on Aemond’s bed beside him, where he is stretched out, one leg bent, one arm behind his head; the picture of unbothered.

"What was it?" Daeron asks.

“A fucking genetics test," Aegon snickers.

Daeron's jaw drops lightly. “That's so mean,” Daeron says, careful to keep his tone light and non–accusatory enough to criticize Aemond from a distance.

Aemond shrugs, “His daddy’s rich, he can pay for his therapy.”

“Not if he’s going to jail for life insurance fraud,” Helaena points out.

“They’ve definitely got money outside of that,” Aegon replies. “You don’t have a fucking castle in the countryside without being from old money. This is, like, my ancestors owned slaves kind of money. Or I run sweatshops money, which might as well be the same thing.”

“Do you guys think she’s going to say anything?” Daeron asks.

“I don’t think she will,” Helaena replies, “not to us, at least.”

“She’ll definitely say something to mom,” Aegon nods, and Helaena agrees.

Aemond shrugs again, “What’s she going to do? Kick me out?”

“What’s up with her fucking kids?” Aegon asks.

“Head boy and his two mini-mes,” Aemond huffs. “Such suck-ups. And you are, too,” He gives Aegon a pointed look.

“Me?!”

“Yes, with your fucking gift. You’re supposed to be on our side.”

“That’s more a gift for mom,” Aegon says. “You know. She wears it and she’s like, wow, my girlfriend and my family,” he waves his hand around to communicate his idea. “No in-fighting. Can we go back to her fucking kids laying on the good host shit so heavily?”

Daeron shares an incredulous look with Helaena, then laughs. “They were trying to make a good first impression!” He insists.

“Bunch of shiny fucking nepo babies, they sure made one,” Aemond grumbles.

“It was fucked when he asked about your eye,” Daeron says, clapping Aemond’s shoulder, “I’ll give you that.” Helaena and Aegon nod along and Aemond sets his jaw.

“You should take off the patch,” Aegon says, “like, as a hail Mary. If they don’t lay off, just –” Aegon turns as the door opens.

Alicent stands there, taking just one step in. She tosses a wrapped gift onto the bed beside Aemond’s legs. “I hope you’re quite pleased with yourself,” she says, voice tense, tired, rimmed with disappointment. Just as suddenly as she’d entered, Alicent shuts the door as she leaves.

Aegon raises his eyebrows, then gives a slow, dramatic exhale. “Tomorrows going to be fun.”

The morning comes slowly; Aegon sleeps in, Aemond purposefully avoids attending breakfast, and Daeron and Helaena attend.

It isn’t nearly as bad as their brothers want to make it seem – Jacaerys, Lucerys and Joffrey are quite sweet, and Helaena takes to Joffrey instantly, or perhaps the other way around. He sets his plate down beside her, wearing his slippers still, and beams up at her through the whole meal.

“Mummy,” he asks, still facing Helaena, “will Aemond play Legos with me today?”

Rhaenyra clears her throat, then picks up his fork and offers him a bite of food. “Maybe,” she says, “we’ll have to ask him, won’t we?”

Alicent leans forward to speak to him from Rhaenyra’s other side. “I am sure he would be glad to.”

“Helaena,” Rhaenyra says as she’s finishing her coffee, “um… your mother mentioned that you like bugs, and in my preparation for this week I came across something called mothing?”

Helaena nods, still chewing through her pancake.

“I thought I might set up a sheet outside tonight if that’s something you’d like to do with me.”

She perks then nods again and holds a hand over her mouth as she finishes swallowing. “Yes, please,” she says, “I’ve always wanted to try mothing.”

“What is it?” Jacaerys asks. Helaena looks to Rhaenyra, who nods to her in invitation to take the lead in explaining it.

“It’s when you take a big sheet and you shine a light on it at night, and all the moths come and they’re attracted to the light. I bet there are great ones out here,” she says.

“Daeron, you’re welcome to come, too,” Rhaenyra offers.

“Oh,” Daeron scowls lightly, “pass. But thank you.”

“Daeron is scared of bugs,” Helaena explains.

“Guilty as charged,” Daeron admits, “I was going to go check out the cows today.”

“Oh, I’m sure Jacaerys would be happy to show you around the animal pens,” Rhaenyra offers.

Jacaerys, to his credit, only nods. “My brothers and I were going to go to the pond today. You two are welcome to come; we can stop by the stables. Maybe your brothers would like to join us, as well,” he says. His voice slows down a touch as he makes his final offer, then looks to Rhaenyra, who smiles at him and nods. “We have horses, too – I could take you riding one day, if you’d like.”

“That is very kind of you, Jacaerys,” Alicent says. He smiles at her dutifully while Daeron nudges Helaena beneath the table, a motion she replicates.

Later, when Daeron finds Aemond hiding away in his room, he only scoffs in response to the invitation.

“Are you leaving now?” He asks.

“Soon enough, I think. What have you been doing all day?”

Aemond gives a half-shrug. “Waiting for Aegon to wake up,” he figures. He picks up the gift that his mother had deposited in his room and turns it in his hands.

“Are you going to open that?”

Another half-shrug, but he places it back down.

“The little one asked about you this morning,” Daeron tells him.

“What’d they say?”

“Just asked if you’d play with him. Mum offered you up, so.”

Aemond scoffs again, “No shot they’ve lugged us all out here just to play babysitter.”

Daeron shifts, considering disagreeing, but instead kicks Aemond’s footboard lightly. “I’ll catch you later,” he says, and closes the door behind him. He rouses Helaena, still in her room putting on her favorite lavender puffer and her wellies, and the two of them head to meet the boys for their walk around the grounds.

It doesn’t take much longer for Aemond to grow tired of waiting for Aegon to pull himself out of bed, and after he’s seen the gaggle of five head for the treeline, he feels a little more comfortable walking around without being so on edge that he’ll be ambushed in a hallway by the Velaryons. Not that he’s particularly scared of them, only that he’d like witnesses should they have to interact. He wagers his mother is probably entertaining their host, and with Aegon currently becoming one with his mattress, he should be free to explore as he pleases.

There are far too many rooms, he finds. He thinks the castle might have an interesting history if he knew where to find it. He wanders the hallways, ducking into this room and that, and spends a considerable amount of time in a tall library, flicking through books while sitting in the natural light of an overcast sky. He finds a wine cellar, a game room with a dusty but vast and deeply detailed model train set, half a dozen rooms that seem to be for nothing more than sitting and talking. He finds a gym, too, with a few machines and niche sports equipment, polo mallets, skis, fencing swords that he picks up and turns in his hands and cuts through the air with. Soon he seems to find no more, and enters a door to find the garage.

It’s obnoxiously large and houses a dozen cars, at least. Aemond can’t seem to help himself from scoffing yet again; he’s not sure how much more disgustingly rich this family could get. Still, he does have a soft spot for vintage cars, and he takes his time walking past each one, admiring what great condition they seem to be in.

Each one has a custom license – of course they do, he thinks to himself in quite an uppity manner – with strange names. He’s stopped over a forest green Toyota from the 40s, if he had to guess, maybe one of the first ones they’d ever come out with. He circles it a few times, a shark watching prey, before he checks over his shoulder. The door remains closed, so Aemond tries the handle and exhales an excited breath when the door clicks open. He slides inside, wrapping his hands on the steering wheel and looks over the dials. Everything reads as original, but seems to be in far too pristine a condition to be so.

“Your mother told me you liked cars,” comes a velvet voice beside him, and Aemond whips around to see Rhaenyra. “Perhaps we could go for a drive one of the days you’re here. A lot of these guys don’t see as much attention as they ought to.”

Aemond can’t help but feel a bit like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar – worse, too, that she’s being so kind. This would be much easier if she would just try and reprimand him, but of course she’s got to make things difficult for him. He isn’t sure what to say, so he decides on being standoffish. “I’m sure she’s told you a great bit about me.”

“She has,” Rhaenyra agrees. She opens her mouth to continue, but Aemond cuts her off by pushing the door of the car open, and Rhaenyra has to move backwards to avoid being clipped by it.

“Wish I could say the same,” Aemond mutters, coming to stand beside her – this is much better, being taller, being able to look down on her.

Rhaenyra wrings her hands together, sighs from her nose and then finally looks up at him. “Look – I understand how you’re feeling. I wasn’t thrilled when my father remarried, either, and I know the frustration of being… thrust upon a new family and being expected to acclimate.”

For whatever reason, her assessment of his feelings makes him hot inside, whether it be from anger or embarrassment. “If you understood how I felt, you would know the best thing for everyone here would be to leave my mother alone. I know your type,” he all but snarls, “and I’m not interested in watching her fall victim to another upper-class air-head who thinks that they can suck the life out of people beneath them and toss them away when they’re done.”

Rhaenyra’s expression sours into bewilderment. “What?” She asks, shaking her head. “How could you –”

“Perhaps you should worry about your husband,” Aemond says coldly, “I hear he’s recently come back from the dead.”

He takes the time to stare her down. She doesn’t wilt, though he does watch her swallow. Despite his facade, the interaction makes his stomach turn. Perhaps he knows he’s laying it on too thick, that Rhaenyra might threaten the structure of his family but ignoring her is a just punishment. This challenge, the stand-off he imposes to her only paper thin. Still, it pleases him immensely when she backs down, clearing her throat and stepping to the side. He takes the opportunity for escape eagerly, ready to return to his room – rather, to pull Aegon out of bed so that he might not be caught off guard again.

The only way he knows back to his room is past the kitchen, but he stops in the doorway of the kitchen. He can hear voices now, knows that his siblings have returned by the echo of new footsteps and laughter that infects the halls. He plans only to sweep past the doorway, but he finds his feet cementing themselves to the stone floor.

His mother stands at the counter, back to him. Someone has pulled a chair into the kitchen for Joffrey to stand on one side of her while Lucerys is at her other hip. She has one arm around Joffrey, helping his grip as he stirs something before all of them.

“There you are,” she encourages, her voice a melody that twinkles in the air, “that’s it! Make sure you get everything off the sides. Very good!” She moves her hand to rub his back. “Should we give Luke a try?”

The tableau is only reminiscent of his own memories, of better, simpler times when his family all lived under the same roof, when he and his siblings were the center of his mother’s world. The kitchens they’d had were not as grand as this, no marble tabletops or kitchen islands, but still much of the same. Helaena on one side, Aemond on a stool beside her dutifully stirring or measuring or whatever it was his mother needed done. He had stayed at her side the longest, always the first to let his little legs carry himself into the kitchen when she started baking. He’d loved it – he still did – being her little helper, the one to take a little something from her metaphorical plate, to be rewarded in something sweeter than getting to lick the spoon. The family time that came along with it, whether he was standing on the stool to help Helaena with mother or if he was the one helping little Daeron up, or even if he were alone helping her, and a job well done meant a break from everyone’s studies to share in the fruits of their labor.

He feels a cruel heat inside of him, a deep jealousy as he watches Luke stir the batter carelessly. He would do a better job, even if he were only as old as Luke were. He would be more grateful for such a moment with his mother.

A dutch oven sits on the stove further down the counter, filling the air with the sweet, herby-sweet scent of basil reaching out into the hall, soon to fill the entire house. He thinks it’s a bitter shame that his mother slaves away in the kitchen whilst Rhaenyra strolls her own hallways, admiring her shiny toys, when there is obviously help around to take care of the cooking and whatnot. Aemond swallows, clenching his jaw, then continues on his way to his room. The treasured memories he has cooking with his mother edge dangerously close to the angry fire he has within him, all too close to spoiling them because someone else had the nerve to recreate them.

He lets himself into Aegon’s room without knocking, unsurprised to see that Aegon is both still in bed and completely nude beneath his sheets when Aemond yanks his blankets off and hits his shoulder.

“Get up,” Aemond tries not to make it sound like he’s whining, but he’s not sure if it comes across as harshly as he wants it to.

Aegon groans, stretching out his back and pressing his hands into his eyes. “Hm?”

“Come on,” Aemond encourages, “don’t you want to go have a smoke?”

He does, coincidentally, want to go have a smoke. Aemond stands and nags at his brother while he dresses, a mismatched outfit of sheepskin boots, plaid pajama pants, a puffer jacket and a beanie that sits lopsided where it was carelessly pulled over his head.

They find a path out the back, walking far enough that Aemond feels comfortable enough to rant. It’s frustratingly picturesque and Aegon distantly thinks it is all too early, too cold, and too pretty to be so worked up, but he wouldn’t dare mention such a thing. He leans against a small stone wall, puffing on his cigarette as Aemond spouts off his grievances with Rhaenyra and her family.

“She’s too fucking smart for this,” Aemond hisses. “I don’t understand how she can drag herself out of a fucking miserable relationship with him just to turn around and walk into one with someone who may as well be the same person in a fucking wig.”

Aegon doesn’t quite see the parallels that seem to stand out to Aemond; they were both wealthy, yes, and blonde, but Rhaenyra seems kind enough for what little he’d interacted with her. She’d remembered his name, at the very least, which was more than could be said for his own father.

“She’s going to push us out, you know? She’s already making mother watch her kids and cook for her. She’s treating her like a maid. And then once she’s played her little fucking game and got Mother taking care of her and all dependent on her like a good little wife, she’ll cut the act.”

This time, Aegon stays pointedly quiet. He’s guilty of the same, sometimes treating their mother like a maid.

“Don’t you think she would have been like this when she met him?” Aemond asks, sounding nearly offended with Aegon’s lack of enthusiastic agreement.

“She was, like, fifteen!” Aegon laughs. “I don’t know if the two are that comparable.”

“She is putting on a front,” Aemond insists. “She’s playing nice now. Trying to come onto me and act like I’m just going to play house with her. As if she’s not actively trying to take my fucking family from me. As if I’ll just let her have mother because she’s invited me out for a drive. I know what she’s doing.”

“What kind of car was it?” Aegon asks after a beat, squinting up at him from where he’s all but laying over the stone wall.

Aemond shakes his head. “You are fucking impossible.” He glances over Aegon’s shoulder, then shakes his head and turns away, “Not a fucking moment to myself.”

Aegon twists around to see one of the brothers walking towards them. “Fuck,” Aegon mutters, “What’s this one’s name?” He looks to his brother, “It’s not Lucy.”

“Lunch is ready,” the intruder finally says when he gets close enough. Aemond gives Aegon a look that only communicates exasperation, as if an invitation to lunch is going to be the straw that breaks his back.

“Thank you, Louis,” Aegon says, looking over his shoulder again.

“It’s Lucerys,” he says, indignant.

“Did he fucking ask?” Aemond snaps back like the tail of a whip. Lucerys scowls, then turns and leaves in a huff, muttering his retort under his breath.

Aegon snorts, lifting his chin with pride, “I was quite close, actually.”

They skip lunch, Aegon’s appetite ruined with his chainsmoking and Aemond on principle. Aegon jokes about a hunger strike, but the idea is too tempting; he’d happily abstain from every single meal for the rest of the week if they were all going to play happy family at the dinner table. Would his mother notice it then, if he wore himself to skin and bone because of this?

When they return to the house, lunch has finished. Jacaerys is helping their mother with the dishes, a visual that makes Aegon scoff as they pass, and when they let themselves into Daeron’s room, he’s brought up two chocolate chip hazelnut cookies for them – their family recipe. Aemond dismisses the offer and excuses himself, heading for the library whilst Aegon and Daeron argue about who “deserves” the now free cookie.

Aemond finds a book and sets himself in a chair, hoping that another read will clear his mind.

“You ought to let me talk to him,” Alicent insists in another wing of the house. She and Rhaenyra have found refuge in one of the sitting rooms, a blanket shared between them and the rest of the wine they’d failed to finish last night. “He’s – he’s not acting like himself. I would never think him to be like this.”

Rhaenyra places her hand over Alicent’s where it sits in her lap, then squeezes. “Don’t,” she says, looking at her earnestly. “I promise, I’ve faced worse than moody teenagers. He’s seventeen – he deserves a little patience. If anything, he’s practice for what my boys will be like in a matter of years,” she assured her, then lifts her glass to sip at her rosé.

“Your boys?” Alicent asks, nearly in disbelief, “Your boys are angels.”

Rhaenyra hums around her drink, then pulls the glass away. “You mean like how you describe Aemond?”

It makes her pause, her response frozen on her lips. She has to admit that Rhaenyra raises a good point, that she would describe Aemond as dutiful and polite and intelligent, using all of the words she’d use to describe her impression of Jacaerys so far. They both crack the silence with a warm giggle, leaning in even further to one another.

“Please, don’t worry about it,” Rhaenyra whispers, using her free hand to pull Alicent in and kiss her temple. “I was once a moody teenager whose only parent was in a new relationship, too. And I was much worse, believe me.”

“You were not.”

“I was,” Rhaenyra insists. “I terrorized my poor father. I stopped coming out of my room unless I was sneaking out. I started sneaking boys in, I even ran away from home. A little sass is nothing. And it’s just one kid – Daeron and Helaena have been nothing but sweethearts,” Rhaenyra tells her. “I think I might even be able to win Aegon over if he leaves his brother’s side for long enough.”

“I think you won him over when you offered him a glass of wine last night,” Alicent credits, then lets her smile split her face and leans in for yet another kiss. “Thank you for inviting us, really. It means a lot to me.”

Rhaenyra only bumps their noses together.

They break away not long after finishing off what little is left of the wine, Rhaenyra gone to find what she’d need that night with Helaena. Alicent heads for the kitchen, picking out her favorite pear from the bowl and cutting it into slices. She plates the fruit with nut butter and one of the cookies she’d made with the boys earlier – she’d always thought baked goods disappeared in the blink of an eye with four kids, and with seven it was even quicker – and sets off to find Aemond.

“We didn’t see you at lunch,” Alicent says, voice gentle as it floats through the room, when she finds him holed up in the library.

He makes a noise in response. Alicent sets the plate down on the table next to him, the one whose lamp he reads in the light of.

“Are you feeling alright?” She asks. She stays to his back, reaching forward to comb her fingers through his hair.

He makes another noise, this time one of confirmation. It’s not the most specific answer, but his mother has always seemed to read him in ways others couldn’t. They were just connected like that, always the one the other turned to, for better or for worse.

Alicent brushes through his hair with her fingers gently. Part of her wants to just admit what she knows, that Aemond’s cruelty did not only extend to Rhaenyra’s sons – she wants to address his cruel prank at all, but she keeps her mouth shut, only for Rhaenyra. She twists sections of his hair into delicate rope braids that finish at the back of his head, while Aemond closes his eye and relishes in the feeling. He was old enough to braid his own hair now. It’d been too long since his mother had done it.

She leans over and kisses his head. “You would tell me, right?” She asks, resting her cheek on the crown of his head. “If something was wrong. You would tell me.”

Aemond turns the page of his book without having arrived at the end of the passage. “Of course, Mother,” he assures her quietly. They both pull away, only to look back to one another. Aemond seems to insist with his eyes that he’s alright, but Alicent can see that something is off. Keeping quiet isn’t easy, but it was a promise made. Aemond would come around, Rhaenyra had promised her, if she would only give him time.

She presses a kiss to his forehead, “I hope your appetite will return for dinner, then.”

It doesn’t. Aemond stays parked in the library, reading about the Siege of Leningrad. He eats the fruit his mother had so kindly prepared for him, but can’t find himself to eat the cookie – even if it is a recipe he cherishes, it feels wrong. The wrong people made it, so obviously the entire thing is spoiled.

Down the hall, the energy is a dramatic shift. The Velaryon boys have already warmed up to Helaena and Daeron, and though Aemond’s absence is felt, its void is filled with jokes and sharing stories over the meal Alicent had painstakingly prepared. Helaena describes the time she’d spent in the garden, listing off the beetles she’d seen while the boys all talk about how Daeron is just so good at foosball. Aegon stays quiet, occupied with his cups and his vape, and Alicent can tell by the short answers he gives Rhaenyra that he’s trying to stay loyal to whatever plan he and Aemond have hatched. Alicent only has to intervene once, when he brings out his vape for the second time – she snatches it out of his hand and leans over to him, hissing under her breath that they are at the table and that there are children present.

Helaena is the first to finish. She’s eager for the sun to sink beneath the horizon and for the maroon that lines the western treeline to disappear and leave them in darkness. Alicent can read her; even though her face shows none of her happiness, her daughter is restless and ready to explore the creatures they’ll collect.

“Darling,” Alicent reaches over and touches Helaena’s hand, “why don’t you check that there aren’t any extra lights on? That way all of the bugs will know where to focus?”

Helaena nods, excusing herself and all but skipping away to make sure the night would be as dark as possible. Joffrey decides he’s finished next, moving from his chair to his mother’s lap.

“Mummy, can I ask Aemond to play with Legos?” He asks, and she rubs at his back.

“I think he’s resting, darling,” she replies kindly, “but maybe we can ask tomorrow. Do you want to come see the bugs outside with Helaena and I? Or do you want to stay inside with everyone else?”

“Umm,” he hums, “will they go on me?”

“They might,” Rhaenyra tells him, brushing his hair into place. “You can always come in or go outside if you change your mind.”

“I, for one, would love to have you sit with me,” Alicent says, leaning over to address him. “I’m going to sit by the window and watch, would you like to do that with me?”

Joffrey looks up at her, then back to his mother, and then back to Alicent before he nods and giggles. The group disperses slowly and then all at once, and Alicent gives Aegon a stern look, one that is pointedly ignored, as he empties the wine bottle into his glass before heading off into the house. She tuts in disappointment.

Helaena returns dressed for the countryside night, only to be sent back to switch out her white sneakers for rain boots with Alicent’s chiding of how she’ll dirty her shoes if she takes them outside tonight. It isn’t a minute later that Rhaenyra comes up behind her at the kitchen sink where she’s rinsing and washing dishes, tucking her chin over Alicent’s shoulder.

“You don’t need to worry about these,” she whispers, then presses a kiss to her shoulder. “The help will get it.”

Alicent wants to accept, wants to trust that someone else will take care of it, but she places a plate in the drying rack and picks up another. She needs to pull her weight, needs to contribute to this beautiful space Rhaenyra has invited them into.

“It won’t take too long,” Alicent finally murmurs back, “and my favorite distraction is about to go out to the yard.” She turns her head slightly to look at Rhaenyra, meeting her kaleidoscope eyes. They both share a smile, just the two of them, before Rhaenyra kisses the corner of her mouth.

“Dinner was delicious,” she compliments, walking backwards out of the kitchen as Helaena’s footsteps draw closer.

Alicent finishes the dishes and brings the plate she’d set aside for Aemond up to his room. She can hear him and Aegon talking on the other side of the door and decides not to interrupt them, rather setting the plate down on the floor just beside the door for when he gets hungry.

It is something of a spectacle, at first. Only a few moths find their way to the sheet at first, and Helaena is up close, picking up the larger ones. “This is a silver Y moth,” she tells Rhaenyra, moving her hands back and forth as the bug climbs her fingers like a treadmill until she leads it gently back to the sheet. “Those ones are really common.”

Rhaenyra has never been one for bugs, really – she’s always been around someone else who would do the occasional spider-killing and whatnot for her. She thinks Daeron has the right idea about this kind of thing, the idea of attracting hundreds of bugs to you. Strange and uncomfortable as it is, she knows this kind of thing is important to Helaena, and despite Aemond’s best efforts, Rhaenyra does want to bring their families closer together. She’ll stomach an evening of unease if it means that Helaena will warm up to her.

More and more moths have found their light, and before long, there is an equal amount of empty space peeking through as there is space taken up by beautiful wingspans. Helaena, who thus far had been very quiet around her, has not stopped speaking.

“Here’s a black arches one,” she says, showing off a moth with an intricate black and white pattern across its wings, “and a fox moth, and a lunar hornet.” She points to each one and the one cupped in her hands takes flight, fluttering around until it returns to the sheet. Helaena gasps then, dropping to her knees. She knows her mother will chastise her later about getting her jeans dirtied with grass and damp dirt, but her focus is only on the treasure in front of her. “It’s an emperor moth!”

She reaches into her pocket to fish out her phone as she coaxes the bug onto her fingers, but huffs in disappointment as it flutters back to the sheet.

“Here,” Rhaenyra says, taking the phone from her and swiping the camera open. Helaena’s hands are free now to pick the moth up again, holding it at such an angle that Rhaenyra can snap a picture of it.

“Do you want to hold it?” Helaena asks her.

“Oh, Gods,” Rhaenyra says. She doesn’t, really, but she can read the situation for what it is. An invitation from Helaena to connect with her over this moment. “I’ve never held a bug on purpose before; do they bite?”

“They can’t,” Helaena assures her, “here!”

Rhaenyra offers her hand and Helaena slowly encourages the bug over to Rhaenyra’s hand. She all but squeals.

“Oh, God! It tickles,” she says, keeping her hand as far from her body as she can. Even with the assurance that it can’t bite, Rhaenyra isn’t quite comfortable letting it get too close.

Helaena watches for a minute, laughing along, before the sheet pulls her attention again. She names off more moths, talking to herself as she picks them up and puts them down seemingly at random. Her knees press into the soft ground, staining her knees in rings of green while tiny winged creatures land in her hair, crowning her.

She continues naming them off, cinnabar, garden tiger, six-spot burnet, latticed heath, and hands them to Rhaenyra every so often, where they climb along her fingers before losing interest and returning to following the light. Rhaenyra tries to take pictures as she can, gradually growing more comfortable with the bugs fluttering around her and clinging onto her, and dutifully moves in to photograph the ones that Helaena admits she can’t identify at the moment.

Just across the yard and behind a window, Alicent sits with Joffrey and Luke, watching the two ladies play with the bugs. Joffrey leans with his face against the glass, ooh-ing and ahh-ing and asking every question he could think of – why do they like the light? Why do they only come out at night? Where do they go during the day?

“Ali,” he says, turning around to face her, “can I have a blanket?”

“Of course,” she says, and she stands to fetch one from a nearby couch, laying it over his lap and Lucerys’. She gasps, then, kneeling down to be on their level. “How about I go make us all some hot chocolate?”

“Yes!” Lucerys answers instantly. “Will you?”

She can only grin at him. “I’ll be just a minute.”

Getting to make the drinks is a quiet relief, a sweet moment to appreciate how grateful she is just to be there. She warms a pot of milk and adds chocolate, then rolls up her sleeves to whip up some cream. The first two mugs are brought to the game room to be delivered to Daeron and Jacaerys, who are playing some brightly colored racing game on a console while leaning against one another – Daeron follows her back to the kitchen, offering to be the sacrificial lamb who brings Aegon and Aemond their drinks. The rest of them get carried to the sunroom on a tray, handed to an eagerly waiting Joffrey and Lucerys.

“Ali,” Joffrey says, sporting a brown and white streaked moustache now, “can you ask if we can see the bugs?”

Alicent nods, pushing a door open with her hip whilst her hands are occupied with mugs. “I will tell them you’d like to see the bugs,” she promises. The walk is short, but she keeps a wide berth. It’s Rhaenyra who approaches, free of bugs to scare her girlfriend away.

She can’t help but jump as she hears a buzzing and feels a flutter on her skin, be it hair or wing, yelping out and trying to shake it off of her. Rhaenyra laughs, hurrying forward to take one of the mugs from where it’s spilled over her fingers.

“Is it gone?” Alicent asks, face screwed shut.

“Yes, yes,” Rhaenyra assures her, but she brushes her hands over Alicent’s auburn curls to further prove it to her. Alicent relaxes, standing and watching as Rhaenyra slides the flat of her tongue up her cup to clean where the drink had spilled over the side. “Should I deliver that one?” She asks with a laugh, reaching out to take the cup that Alicent hands over without contest.

“The boys would like to see some of them up close,” Alicent tells her, and Rhaenyra nods, then moves in to kiss her briefly, tasting like cinnamon and cocoa.

“Mom!” Helaena calls, “There’s a death’s head hawk!”

“That’s very cool, honey,” Alicent replies as Rhaenyra returns. She makes a quick escape, back to the bug-free safety of the sunroom.

Helaena only holds the cup for long enough to place it at her feet, then picks up a moth from the sheet and hands it to Rhaenyra, then picks up a pair of her own before they head for the window.

Joffrey squeals in a mixture of joy and fear as they approach, lifting the blanket to his eyes. Lucerys presses his hands and face against the glass, watching as his mother shows off a bug so big it takes up her entire hand. It isn’t long before their intrigue grows so much that they’re climbing from the bench tto open the door, little hands held out.

Lucerys handles it well enough when his mother hands the bug over, letting it slowly open and close its wings with minimal cringing on Luke’s part. Joffrey is a touch more squirmy, giggling and squealing as Heleana places a smaller moth onto his hand.

Alicent stands a pace away, trying to snap pictures of them all without getting too close. One of the bugs moves unexpectedly and Luke jumps, sending the moth flapping into the night again. Luke holds his arms against his chest, as if bitten.

“Very cool, isn’t it?” Rhaenyra asks, then sips at her drink. “Helaena knows all sorts of things about these guys.”

Soon, Joffrey’s moth takes flight as well. Helaena all but skips back to the sheet to find more subjects to study, while Rhaenyra kisses her sons’ heads and encourages them to finish their drinks with Alicent as she passes off her near-empty mugs.

The three of them return to the banquette couch, picking up mugs from the window sill. Alicent sits first and is pleasantly surprised when Joffrey comes and makes himself comfortable in her lap, then picks up his mug.

Alicent reckons that Helaena could stay out there all night, but soon the boy in her lap is yawning and Rhaenyra has to retire to help them to bed. She tells Helaena how to turn the portable floodlight off before she returns inside, taking the boys up to their rooms while Alicent handles the new load of dishes. Rhaenyra finds her as she finishes up, taking her hand and pulling her away from the sink and up to the master bedroom, promises of a hot bath on her lips.

She makes good on the promise. The bath is drawn and steaming with a bottle of wine on the side, and the hot water is a welcome relief from the cold of the house. Rhaenyra combs Alicent’s hair back with her fingers after she has slipped into the bath, carefully twisting her hair into a clip to keep it from getting wet before she joins her girlfriend.

They chase the taste of chocolate from one another’s mouths with the taste of rosé, talking quietly about the day.

“I hope she likes me,” Rhaenyra whispers finally with a sigh that only barely makes it to Alicent’s ears.

“I am certain she does,” Alicent assures her.

“She wasn’t smiling,” Rhaenyra replies, her brows pulling up. “I really did think she was having a good time, but every time I looked to her it looked like she was doing homework.”

Alicent frowns, shaking her head. “She just doesn’t smile sometimes. I promise you that she’ll treasure that memory for years. You’re very brave for going out there like that.”

“My skin was crawling at first,” Rhaenyra admits, shaking her head lightly. “But after a while it wasn’t so bad. Thank you for sitting with my boys,” she traces her thumb over Alicent’s cheek, and Alicent smiles in response.

“Of course. They were angels.”

“Did you see where Jace went off to?”

“He and Daeron were playing a game. I think they’re really starting to like one another.”

Rhaenyra closes her eyes and tilts her head back. “Thank God, I was worried – I’d talked Aemond up quite a bit before you arrived, and then the first night…” she shakes her head. “I’m glad they’re making friends.”

“Aemond will come around,” Alicent promises her. “Like you said. I think this is all just a very hard transition for him.”

“Well, however long it takes,” Rhaenyra replies, leaning in to press a kiss to Alicent’s shoulder.

They get lost in one another, giggles and kisses and gentle hands. The master bathroom becomes an oasis for both women, for Rhaenyra a space free of expectations of others, of rumors and the cutting pressure she feels back home, and for Alicent, a space free of her own expectations, the acceptance of self and the decadent idea that maybe she can have the happily ever after she chased as a little girl.

Their moment only dwindles to a close when Helaena shuts off the light outside, the light that had given off enough to keep the bathroom dim but not dark, and they realize the water has gone tepid.

“I needed that,” Alicent sighs as she ties her robe, then moves to give Rhaenyra a kiss. “What a fantastic idea. Thank you.”

“It was hardly a chore on my end,” she giggles against Alicent’s lips.

“I am exhausted,” Alicent sighs, moving to the sink to start on her nighttime routine. Before long, they’ve both changed and Alicent is tucking herself into bed.

“Let me go check on the doors,” Rhaenyra whispers, kissing Alicent’s lips. “You don’t need to wait for me.”

“I don’t know if I could,” Alicent replies, her heavy eyelids already slipping shut. She looks ethereal, peaceful, resting here with her curls spread on the pillow behind her. A sight Rhaenyra will be lucky to return to once she’s sure that the house is locked up.

Helaena had taken care of most of the lights around dinnertime, so few switches need flicking – though she does note that light peeks through Aemond’s closed door. She shuts a few windows, double checks locks, and finally comes to the door they’d been using to come in and out during the mothing – she spots Helaena’s forgotten mug beside the sheet.

It’d be easier to just leave it for the morning, but Rhaenyra decides against it. She lets herself out, a blanket pulled over her shoulders, and dumps the full cup into a bush nearby – she reckons Helaena hadn’t even touched it, far too focused on the bugs to entertain a warm drink. Even though the light has been shut off, some moths still linger on the sheet, and she can smell that a skunk has been by somewhere in the forests around her estate.

Rhaenyra turns to return inside, but a light catches her eye in the garden, followed by some movement. It could be nothing, but then again…

She has never been one good at turning down curiosity, and she lets her slippered feet carry her quietly across the yard. The moon is just a sliver in the sky, and Rhaenyra has to get quite close before she realizes the form she’s been looking at is a body, and that the whitish mass on top is not the edge of a porcelain statue but the back of Aegon’s head. The smell suddenly makes more sense.

“I’m going to assume you’re going to need a key to come back inside,” Rhaenyra says, announcing her presence, and Aegon startles, tucking his hand by his side and out of her view.

“Sorry,” Aegon coughs, then blinks several times. “Um – I left a door open for myself.”

“I’ve just locked it,” she replies, matter-of-fact.

“O-oh,” he wets his lips, then tucks his hair behind his ear. “I – I’ll just be a minute. I needed some air.”

“Mhm,” Rhaenyra hums, amused with the performance he puts on, and then comes to sit beside him in the grass. She is warm and still riding the carefree high such a relaxing evening and half a bottle of wine had brought her, and so she asks, “Are you going to offer that to me or should I have to go all the way back to the house to get my own?”

Aegon blinks at her, his eyes wide and his eyebrows ever so slightly worried before he seems to catch up with her implications. “Yeah,” he says, offering the joint to her, “um – here.”

Rhaenyra’s thin fingers pick up the joint like a cigarette and she lifts it to her lips, then sends Aegon a look. “Don’t tell your mother about this,” she says before her lips close around the filter and she takes a drag.

Aegon cannot help but snicker at the request, taking the joint back at her offer. She sets Helaena’s abandoned mug between them and Aegon ashes the joint before he takes another pull. “Presumably I don’t need to ask you to do the same.”

Rhaenyra purses her lips and shakes her head, but she blooms into a smile after a moment. She thinks of Alicent, tucked peacefully into bed, in her bed, warm and comfortable in the house. “I can’t imagine that she doesn’t yet know, but your secret is safe with me.”

“Ah, yes. Family disappointment is a heavy title, but I think I bear it well.”

Rhaenyra hums, watching him as he looks out towards the treeline.

“Did you follow the smell?” He asks after a minute. “Or did you just see me heading out here?”

Rhaenyra hums, biting her lips together. “This was my smoking spot when I was your age,” she admits.

Aegon all but cackles, “No, it wasn’t. You’re taking the piss.”

“I mean it,” Rhaenyra insists. “My father would host these huge parties and let people drive all the vintage cars we have, and this is not only far from the driveway, but you’re quite protected – the hedges block anyone from seeing you from the house. I only spotted you because I’d come out to clean up from tonight, and I know where to look. My cousins and I would sit like this, all pressed up against one another while we smoked – or we’d go off into the woods to do it, if it wasn’t snowing.”

“You’re not serious,” Aegon says incredulously.

“Of course I am,” she scowls, but there’s a gentler, more amused edge to it. “We were teenagers – teenagers without phones. It felt like that and getting drunk were the only two things to do out here.”

“Amen to that,” Aegon mutters, slouching even further until he’s nearly lying down, propped up only on his elbows.

“I do think you’d find more amusement here if you only let yourself.”

“I’ve already committed to being as miserable as possible for Aemond’s sake,” Aegon replies, taking another pull.

“He’s recruited you, has he?” Rhaenyra asks as she takes the joint back. “I didn’t realize it was so premeditated.”

Aegon shrugs, the fabric of his puffer sliding against itself. “We looked you up before we got here – and I haven’t been at home, but I think he’s pissed that you’re taking mum away from him.”

“I could have told you that,” Rhaenyra replies, “I thought it was more than that.” She puffs on the joint again.

Aegon shrugs again. “Now that Helaenas moved out, he’s the only one at home and I think he thought he’d have mum to lean on more than he does now,” he picks at something in his eye. “He’s always been her favorite, too, so… having to share her?” Aegon shakes his head. “You were always going to be on his shit-list.”

Rhaenyra sighs, “I suppose I can’t really help any of that, can I?” She offers him the joint back.

“I’d give up, if I were you,” Aegon offers, then takes another hit. “I don’t know how much she’s told you about… our dad, but. Aemond seems to think you’re his second coming.”

“She hasn’t mentioned him much.”

“Yeah, well, there’s a reason for it,” Aegon replies, and for a moment Rhaenyra thinks that will be all – she doesn’t want to press Aegon for the details, but she wants to know more. Rhaenyra thinks herself plenty open with the intricacies of her last marriage and the mess it had crumbled into, but Alicent has only ever had good things to say about her nameless, faceless ex-husband. “Basically, he got her pregnant when she was, like, fourteen,” this much Rhaenyra knew, “and he was, like, thirty, so obviously some fucked up stuff happening there. And then her dad freaked out because they’re super religious on that side and gave permission for them to legally be married. So now she’s a child bride and this guy is making her pop out babies, and, like, just take care of them. And he already has a kid from another marriage who he is obsessed with. Like, couldn’t give less of a fuck about any of us or my mom because he’s so obsessed with his other daughter and ex wife – like he’d call us their names and stuff like that. Anyway, like, years pass, he’s a dickhead, she’s raising us basically alone because he is either not home or trying to pretend we don’t exist. She starts going to night classes and thinking about going to uni. One day he drops this bomb on us that he has this horrible degenerative disease and that he needs full-time care. Mum drops everything to start taking care of him as he gets sicker and sicker and then one night when he’s sleeping,” Aegon makes a croaking noise in his throat. “Next day his daughter comes by and lets us know that we’ve got thirty days to leave and we find out he’d left pretty much the entirety of his will to her. So.” Aegon finally shrugs in far too casual a manner.

The news isn’t easy to digest. She knows Alicent – knows that she’s kind enough to do exactly that, always the one to lie over the puddle to let those who she cares for cross with dry feet. To hear that she’d been mistreated so severely and cheated out of any reparations in the end, and then to try and comprehend the fact that Aemond thinks that she could be like that… the thought makes her stomach turn.

“And what do you think,” Rhaenyra finally asks him.

Aegon shrugs again. “I think he’s being dramatic,” he admits, “but you’re both, like… I don’t know. Business big-wigs with old money. I think he’s just worried she’ll get comfortable and you’ll leave her on her ass again, especially with how much she’s worked since that point. He overcompensates for protecting her since we all know she won’t stand up for herself.”

Rhaenyra frowns at his candidness. He’s being very open for someone who had already established that he was not on her side. She pulls her knees into her chest and rests her cheek there, watching Aegon. He doesn’t look at her, only watches the sky and the edge of the forest. The cherry goes out, and she watches him relight it, struck by how alike he looks to his mother.

“You remind me a lot of myself,” Rhaenyra finally says, breaking the comfortable silence they’d found themselves in.

Aegon laughs again, “That’s funny.”

“How so?”

Aegon’s expression scrunches, as if it’s obvious. “You’re, like… this fancy heiress with all this stuff going for you. And your son is a head boy – I’m not going to have a son who is head boy, I’ll tell you that.”

Rhaenyra chuckles. “I don’t know how much of Jace’s success I can take credit for, but I mean it. When I was twenty, I was just like you.”

“Really?”

She nods. “I was incredibly reckless. I didn’t care about consequences or who I hurt. I just did to feel something. I was making appearances, but… only to prove the people who thought I wouldn’t wrong. I only went to university because I overheard all of my dad’s business partners talking about how I wouldn’t be able to handle the real world, and I still ended up dropping out.”

“You dropped out?”

Rhaenyra nods, “Right before I graduated. I just… didn’t feel like doing it anymore, so I left. Told my dad the pressure was too much.”

Aegon curses under his breath. “What did you major in?”

She looks down at him, a sly smirk on her face. “Business.”

He shakes his head. “Now if I drop out, I’m blaming you. Mom will forgive you, but I’m shit out of luck.”

“Your mother loves you,” Rhaenyra says.

“Maybe,” Aegon says, and in a moment more vulnerable than he means to make it, he continues, “but she doesn’t like me.”

Rhaenyra knows the opposite is true, that Alicent adores her son with more than she knows how to articulate. She knows that’s the problem, too – that neither of them have the words to say what they need. She’s always given and received love in obvious ways, but she’d noticed even when she’d just started dating Alicent that it wasn’t the case for her. That she assumed gifts came with stipulations, or compliments with a but… and that she needed to carve space away from herself to make room for Rhaenyra.

She can see it, an outsider looking in, the way Alicent loves him. The way she waits on him, her patience, the moments when she’s had to decline Rhaenyra’s calls because Aegon needs something, the dates she’s abandoned only because Aegon is too drunk to get home on his own and she’s who he trusts most.

“I think the two of you speak different languages,” Rhaenyra finally says, words a heavy, wet blanket on their moment. She lets the words marinate, watches as he seems to mull them over, and then she breaks the tension. “And besides… if she started dating a blonde business-school dropout stoner, she can’t mislike you that much.” Rhaenyra leans into him and gives him a nudge. Aegon snorts.

“Suppose I can’t argue with that.” he laughs. He offers her the last little edge of the joint, “Do you want the last one?”

Rhaenyra hums as she pushes herself to her feet, then happily takes the joint to finish it off. She stubs the last of it out and flicks it into the bushes. “That’s where we’re different, then,” she says, offering him a hand up. “I wouldn’t have offered that.”

Aegon cracks another smile as he lets her help him up. The walk back to the house is quiet, and as Aegon heads towards his room sporting a nice high that will surely put him to bed, Rhaenyra calls out a goodnight.

Rhaenyra returns to bed late, slipping an arm around Alicent’s waist and leaning over her. She kisses the spot where her ear meets her jaw, then her cheekbone, then the edge of her chin. Alicent makes a noise, turning her head just enough for Rhaenyra to press a kiss to her lips. Alicent’s hand finds the arm around her waist and squeezes as Rhaenyra whispers, “Goodnight.”

“Can one of you fetch Aemond, please?” Alicent asks the following day, bustling between the breakfast table and the kitchen.

Everyone is present, save for him, and waiting for the rest of breakfast to be brought out. Luke and Joffrey have brought down magnetic toys and are working at building a tower between their plates. Jace has asked politely about how the moths were, and Helaena has taken it upon herself to tell her brother and his friend everything about the night. On her other side, Aegon barely keeps himself awake.

No one immediately answers her, and Jacaerys makes a valiant attempt at not sounding begrudging that still falls short when he pushes his chair back after a moment of silence. “I can –”

Alicent interrupts him as she sets out a platter of sausages, “No, no. One of mine.”

“I already brought Aegon down,” Helaena says.

“Aegon,” Alicent instructs, “go get your brother.”

“Daeron will do it,” Aegon replies, voice heavy with sleep as he leans backwards and lifts his arms above his head to stretch. “Daeron, go.”

“Mum told you to do it,” Daeron replies.

“And I’m telling you.”

“I was the first one down here!”

“I will do it,” Alicent finally sighs as she returns with another platter of food.

Daeron is quick to relent, pushing his chair back, “No, no, I’ll get him.”

“Tell him I’ve made blueberry babka,” she says, “and that we would really appreciate his company.”

Daeron takes the stairs two at a time, then lets himself into Aemond’s room without knocking. “Mum wants you at breakfast,” he says.

“I’m not hungry,” Aemond replies, but Daeron spots a plate from last night tucked on the table by the door to be brought down.

“She made that blueberry bread you like, so…” Daeron trails off, “You’re basically a horrible son if you don’t come.”

He can read his brother, knows that he’s rethinking it now that he knows the smell of fresh bread hadn’t been a hunger-induced hallucination and that his mother had gone to the kitchen early to start cooking in hopes that he’d come down.

Aemond closes his eyes and takes a deep breath, shakes his head, then pulls himself out of bed. Daeron doesn’t wait for him, bounding down the stairs and clapping as he comes back into the room.

“He’s coming,” he announces as he returns to his seat. Surely enough, a moment later, Aemond stalks down the stairs and finds his seat wordlessly. He looks at no one until he is seated, then sets his eyes on Jacaerys in another fruitless attempt at intimidation.

Alicent comes up from behind him and places a basket of fresh bread before him, each slide carefully toasted, and presses a long kiss to his temple. She finally sits between him and Rhaenyra, then holds out her hands. “Should we say grace?”

Breakfast is otherwise without incident; Aemond stays quiet as he eats, allowing the Velaryons and Daeron to dominate the conversations with plans of what to do for the day and how they’ll spend their time.

“Aemond,” Joffrey says, standing in his chair and leaning over the table with a hand on either side of his plate. “Will you play Legos with me today?”

Rhaenyra glances at Aemond, then at Alicent, then quietly encourages Joffrey back into his chair.

Outright denying a child’s request to play feels cruel, and as much as Aemond would like to spit in the face of this family again, it’s much easier when it’s the face of someone his age, or an adult, than the face of a boy who hasn’t even touched double-digits. The longer he waits to answer, torn between turning him down harshly and trying to find a polite way to do so, the more tension in the room seems to grow, the more everyone looks to him for his answer.

In the end, Aemond isn’t the one who breaks the tension and lets their mothers breathe sighs of relief. “I’ll play Legos with you, Joff,” Jacaerys replies, and there’s a certain sharpness to the way he spears the last section of tomato on his plate.

“But –” Joffrey protests, tilting his chin up petulantly.

“Let’s have another bite,” Rhaenyra tries, holding up a forkful of food for him to eat.

The topic gets dropped, and Aemond returns to his silent brooding as he eats.

When everyone is dismissed, it’s Aemond who stands and kisses his mother’s head before disappearing back into the house, all without having said a word.

He spends his day in the library, this time finding a shelf seemingly dedicated to philosophy, reading line after line, turning page after page. He remains relatively unbothered outside of hearing footsteps or voices beyond the wall, mid-morning when his mother delivers him another cup of tea and slice of buttered blueberry bread, and then once more when she returns with a plate of lunch for him. Both times she leans down to press kisses to his head and he thanks her quietly, always grateful for the way she treats him with such delicate hands.

In the afternoon, the sun begins to peek through an overcast sky and Aemond moves his seat of choice closer to the window to occupy a patch of sun. His attention is pulled from his book when he hears a voice calling out, looking up to see Daeron jogging across the grassy field of the backyard. A football arches towards him and Daeron breaks into a run to meet it, kicking it back towards the house where Jacaerys comes into view to return the pass.

He sighs; they’ve lost Daeron. He knew it was coming, but it doesn’t make the bitter taste of acceptance any sweeter. Daeron is meant to be his brother, meant to be on his side, and he jumped ship at the first available opportunity to fraternize with the enemy. He and Daeron had been much closer as children, before Daeron set his heart on going to a boarding school in Oxford and they grew apart, and now he has to watch someone else live out the brotherhood he could have had if Daeron hadn’t been so smart and talented.

Jacaerys, though, harbors so much jealousy that Aemond can’t even understand it as such, all of his feelings muddling together to the color of hate. He has all a boy could ever want and still takes more – takes what little is meant to be Aemond’s. He has two little brothers of his own and yet has attached himself to Aemond’s, has a mother of his own and yet flatters Aemond’s – he finds solace, at least, in the knowledge that Alicent won’t cast him aside as Daeron has. Surely the baking fiasco he’d spied upon was only a fluke, just his darling mother being polite as always. Surely, he thinks, that Jacaerys has never been called the wrong name by his father. No, never. Jacaerys doesn’t have the issue of being rejected by a father, but the horrible fate of being wanted by too many of them.

Aemond tries to read but his focus is constantly interrupted by the sound of their yelling and laughing – he thinks briefly about moving to the far side of the library or to his room to continue, but sternly decides against it. He had moved to the window first, by however small a margin, and he refused to let Jacaerys get to him in such a manner. He would not move because of him.

His resolve only grows stronger when they’re joined by the two younger ones, Joffrey running back and forth to clumsily kick the ball while Luke follows to kick it back to him. Aemond sends them all dirty looks, searing them with his eye behind a pane of glass. With how the sun comes through the clouds, he imagines that the glare is too strong to see him – or perhaps they do see him, and are just hamming up what a fantastic time they’re having to rub it in his face.

“Mum!” Jacaerys calls, “Come play footie with us!”

Aemond scoffs, watching as Rhaenyra approaches. Of course she’d participate in Aemond’s torture, the picture-perfect mother she is. She strips off her jacket as Jace appoints teams, only for Daeron to run off. Aemond’s disgust with the spectacle before him only grows when he returns with Aegon of all people – he clicks his tongue, so overwhelmed with frustration that it rolls into anger all at once. He snaps his book closed and stands, throwing his book into the chair he’d risen from so that he can storm from the room, the sound of Daeron claiming Aegon to his team fading with every step he takes.

He needs to distract himself – maybe take a walk or a closer look at the garage now that Rhaenyra is busy playing mommy and won’t interrupt him. He’ll get in bed and sleep if that’s all he can do to escape the suffocating pleasantry of everyone here playing dollhouse.

The smell of food is the only thing that stops him from storming up to his room, and he makes his way to the kitchen. It’s not exactly surprising, with how entitled Rhaenyra acts around her, to see his mother at the counter, chopping away at things as a pot on the stove sizzles quietly.

“Where’s Helaena?” Aemond asks, and Alicent looks over her shoulder and smiles at him.

“She went out to the garden again,” Alicent answers, turning back to chopping. “I imagine she’s getting her jeans all grassy and muddy again –” she tuts. “I don’t think I reminded her to change her shoes, either. Those will be dirty, too.”

He comes up beside her to see what she’s cooking. From the looks of it, it’s a pot pie; another one of his favorites. She’s watching him, he knows. Knows that he needs her to be what keeps him afloat this week, and feels belatedly grateful that he hadn’t been cruel in his response to Joffrey this morning if only because he knows it would have upset his mother if he had.

He feels the overwhelming urge to fall to his knees and hug her, to lay his head in her lap and go back to a simpler time. Home, when Daeron was still at the apartment on weekends and after school, when he could ask his big brother for help by walking across the hall and not over the phone, when his big sister took up the living room coffee table with her textbooks and sketchbooks and pencils, when his mother’s only worry was them and not whether or not her dress was too fancy for a casual Wednesday-night date. When it was all of them, together, as a team, as a family. He wants it back more than he can say, and he curses himself for being so ungrateful in those years, for not understanding what they had in that apartment before everything changed.

He feels guilty, too, for missing such a miserable time. He knows how stressful it was for his mother, remembers the feeling of rejection day in and day out from his father, but they’d all been so close, always going to bat for one another, always sticking up for one another, being there for one another. Then he’d died, and Aegon went to uni, and Daeron got his scholarship, and Helaena left, too – and now it was only him and mother.

It’s too much to say, so he doesn’t bother.

“You’re cooking so much,” he says.

“I’ve got double the mouths to feed,” she says lightly.

“You hate cooking,” Aemond supplies.

“I don’t,” Alicent looks up at him to scowl. “I only tire of it when it’s a chore – this isn’t a chore. Rhaenyra’s told me a million times now that the maids would be happy to cook for us, but I like to do it. I never get to cook like this, with as much time or ingredients as I please.” She looks back to the board and continues her dicing. “Did you like your babka this morning?”

Aemond nods. “Thank you,” he says, and then, “can I help you?”

It’s much more relaxing than whatever else he would have entertained himself with. He may have lost Daeron and Aegon to the Velaryons, he may be losing Helaena to the appeal of this estate, but at the very least of it – he has his mother. He knows she’s still watching out for him.

The comfort he gets from getting to cook with his mother like he had when he was a boy, when her only job was staying at home to care for them, carries over into dinner. He attends, though he stays quiet for the majority of the meal, and keeps the responses he gives to his brothers clipped and short.

It’s Jacaerys who offers to help Alicent clear the table, and Aemond’s bitterness returns when his mother thanks him for the help as the table is dismissed. He decides he will take that walk, after all.

Had he left from the back door instead of the front, he may have found Rhaenyra moving wood into the firepit on the back patio. There’s an unintended consequence of having a girlfriend who insists on doing the washing up after every meal – you have plenty of time to prepare your date ideas. She fetches wine and a blanket, and when she’s set it all out, her girlfriend.

“The dishes will still be there when we’re done,” Rhaenyra insists against her neck.

Alicent giggles, shying away from the tickling touch, “Let me finish them!”

“Mhm,” she hums, adjusting her grip around Alicent’s waist as she tugs her towards the door, “it’s a vacation – I’m kidnapping you for your own good.” Once she’s pulled Alicent past the threshold of the kitchen, she turns her to the side and scoops her up in her arms.

Alicent yelps in glee, laughing as she wraps her arms around Rhaenyra’s neck and is carried towards the back patio.

“Rhaenyra,” she says softly, a look of gratefulness in her features as they make it outside. “You didn’t have to do this,” she insists. Rhaenyra sets her down gently and tugs her toward the couch. “You’re too sweet to me, Rhaenyra,” her voice comes out in a while as she falls into her girlfriend’s arms.

Rhaenyra lets Alicent settle in beside her as she drapes the blanket over them and pours two glasses of red. “Sweet things like you,” she says slowly, reclining back against the couch and passing one wine glass over, “deserve sweet things.”

Alicent makes a fond noise, slipping her leg over Rhaenyra’s and cuddling close. She fits quite well there, tucked beneath Rhaenyra’s arm. Almost as if it were made for her.

“Should we cheers?” Rhaenyra asks, lifting her glass. “To…” she trails off, then hums. “Many more nights just like this,” she finally decides.

Alicent’s expression softens and she taps her glass against Rhaenyra’s. “You’ve outdone yourself, really. You’re going to make my standards too high.”

Rhaenyra rubs her back slowly. “Good. I’ll spoil you for everyone but me.”

A laugh bubbles from Alicent’s throat and she leans forward to kiss her, a movement that is returned eagerly.

All of this feels so natural for her. She cannot remember a time, other than with her own children, when a connection felt so instantaneous. She thought, sometimes, in fleeting little moments of lovesickness, that perhaps God had made Rhaenyra especially for her.

“Speaking of spoiled,” Rhaenyra drawls, “did Aemond like his special meals today?”

“He’s not spoiled,” Alicent says pointedly, and when Rhaenyra only hums around a sip of wine, Alicent insists. “He’s not!”

“You wait on him hand and foot.”

“Because I love him,” she replies, “he’s not spoiled – really. He’s a hard worker, and he’s very dedicated. I do think he enjoyed getting his favorites today.”

“I certainly enjoyed getting his favorites today. I’m starting to think there isn’t anything you can’t cook,” Rhaenyra presses a kiss to her flushed cheek. “You will have to let us order something in one day this week. If only to get you out of the kitchen – I think this is the longest my boys have gone without delivery in years.”

“Cooking a few meals is the least I can do,” Alicent reasons. “You’ve opened your home to us.”

“I do think you’d get more enjoyment out of being able to take advantage of some of your time here if you weren’t cooped up in the kitchen half the day.”

“I don’t mind it,” Alicent says, and attempts to shift their focus. “How are your boys doing with all of this?”

Rhaenyra’s sip of wine is enough of an answer, and Alicent begins to cringe. “Jace is struggling,” she admits. “And I think Luke can tell his brother is having a hard time but doesn’t know what to make of it. Joffrey just wants everyone to get along, but I don’t think he can read the tension.”

“I’m sorry –”

“Not your fault,” Rhaenyra counters quickly. “He’ll come around, and I’m sure that when he does, Jace will get over it. He’s had plenty of moody spells of his own.”

Alicent sighs. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Mm-mm,” she hums, shaking her head. “We need to let them deal with it on their own. I think pushing ourselves between them will only make it worse.”

Alicent deflates. “Let me… make him something, then. And not as an apology – just so that he knows I care. What’s his favorite meal?”

Rhaenyra seems to consider it a moment. “You’ll have to convince me to tell you,” she finally replies, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Alicent’s worry melts away into giddiness. “Will I?”

Rhaenyra nods, feigning light disinterest as she sips at her drink again. “Mhm.”

It doesn’t take long for them to both snort, and even quicker after that, Alicent is pulling her in for a string of kisses interrupted with giggles and drinks.

With soft lips and a wet tongue, she’s very convincing.

“Can we go back to eating on the couch?” Luke asks the next morning as he comes into the dining room.

“We’re eating at the table,” his mother tells him evenly. “It’s not so bad.”

Luke falls dramatically into his chair, “I don’t want to,” he whines. “Can we please just eat on the couch? Like usual?”

His mother fixes him with an expectant look. “The Hightowers eat at the table, and they’re our guests.”

Jacaerys follows in with Joffrey, who runs to his mother to climb into her lap.

“They’re our guests, that means they should have to follow our rules,” Luke whines back.

“Lower your voice,” Rhaenyra warns evenly, then looks to the kitchen where Alicent is still distracted with her cooking. “I’ve not raised you to be bad hosts. You’ll be fine sitting at the table for a few days.”

“They can sit here and we’ll sit in the living room,” Luke suggests.

The conversation sputters as Aemond enters the dining room.

“Good morning, Aemond,” Rhaenyra says, with a cheerfulness to her voice.

He looks over the four of them slowly, then turns to see his mother in the kitchen, then fixes his scathing gaze on the Velayrons again. He scoffs, then moves to his mother’s side to ask if she needs help.

“Don’t,” Rhaenyra says, looking to her eldest as he opens his mouth. “You’re the bigger person.”

“Maybe we’re tired of being the bigger people,” Jacaerys says, voice low to contrast his words. “He’s done nothing but disrespect you in your own house. It doesn’t feel very big.” He seems to settle as Helaena arrives with her brothers in tow, making eye contact with his mother and setting his jaw.

She reaches over the table and gives his hand a squeeze. “You’ve made me very proud,” she promises. It seems to comfort him, but his attention is quickly taken by Daeron’s arrival in the seat next to him.

“Did everyone sleep well?” Rhaenyra asks as plates begin to be brought out. Joffrey stands in her lap, holding onto her shoulders and speaks before anyone can answer her question.

“Will you play Legos with me today, Aemond?” Joffrey asks.

Aemond hardly reacts as he brings out a pitcher of juice, his voice suspiciously calm when he utters, “Later.”

Jacaerys looks to his mother, who soon returns the look. It isn’t the outright denial they’ve come to expect, but Rhaenyra knows better than to let Joffrey fixate on it happening. With the way things are going, she won’t be surprised if she doesn’t hear another word from Aemond’s mouth for the rest of the week.

Once the table is filled and grace is said, plans are set. Storm clouds brew overhead, but Rhaenyra doesn’t let that stop her from inviting the kids out to ride horses, which Daeron eagerly accepts; Aemond flat-out denies her, while Aegon and Helaena remain unsure for the moment.

“Are you coming, mum?” Daeron asks, and Alicent shakes her head.

“Oh, no. I’m going to go into town and pick some things up for dinner tonight; I’ve got a big afternoon of cooking, I think.”

With the Velaryons so far unanswered to the question of horseback riding, Aemond quickly replies. “I’ll come with you,” he promises her. Better he jump at the opportunity rather than allow even a second for Rhaenyra to offer up her mutts, or worse, Jacaerys to volunteer.

Alicent gives him a kind smile in response.

After breakfast, everyone breaks away to prepare for the day. Alicent starts on both the dishes and the meal she puts in the slow cooker for lunch, and Rhaenyra is the first to return to the sitting room opposite the kitchen to put her riding boots on.

“Mum,” Helaena floats into the kitchen, “will you braid my hair?”

Alicent makes a disappointed noise, “Oh, darling – can you try yourself?” She asks. Her hands drip with poultry that ought to be put in the crock pot sooner rather than later.

Helaena pouts lightly and Alicent feels only remorse. She’s always been eager for the moments Helaena asks her for something and wants to jump at this one too, but it would be irresponsible to leave the food, it would push her schedule back, she ought to finish this by the time Aemond returns – but equally, she cannot rush through the preparation and serve a disappointing meal for lunch.

“I can braid your hair, Helaena,” comes Rhaenyra’s voice.

“Oh, thank you.”

Helaena responds and subsequently moves into the sitting room. Alicent breathes a sigh of relief – even if it isn’t her doing the mothering, she’s glad that Helaena has warmed up to Rhaenyra enough to allow her to do her hair.

“Sit,” Rhaenyra says, “I’ll grab a brush.”

Surely enough, Rhaenyra returns with a boar-bristle brush in one hand and a handful of hair ties in the other. She begins coming through Helaena’s hair gently, “Did you just want one braid?”

“I’d just like it out of my face,” she admits, “and able to fit beneath a riding helmet.”

Rhaenyra warms at the implication as she finishes combing out her hair. She’s careful as she sections out Helaena’s hair, tying them into little bundles as she needs. It’s been years since she has braided anyone else’s hair, and even a while since she braided her own, but she remembers the movements carefully, weaving and adding and subtracting strands slowly and carefully crafting each braid.

“I didn’t know you knew how to braid,” Helaena finally says, careful fingers coming up to touch the section that has been intricately woven.

“Well,” Rhaenyra answers, “I don’t have much hair to braid anymore, but when I was a girl my hair was very long. My mother taught me, and after she passed I kept at it as a way to feel closer to her.”

“Oh,” Helaena’s hand shrinks away. “Why did you cut your hair, then?”

Rhaenyra cracks a smile. “I started braiding my hair to feel closer to her, but as I got older I found myself very… impatient with taking care of it. So then I was braiding it so that I wouldn’t have to deal with it so often. I’d always wanted a daughter, someone whose hair I could braid as my mother had done to me.” She looks carefully at Helaena, at her silver hair, the same shade as her own, and swallows. “And I kept having boys, and then I got pregnant, and it was a girl, and… I lost her,” Rhaenyra says, voice slow as she finds each word. She’s spoken about this many times, had to reopen the wound many times over the past few years, and yet it feels brand new each time, the searing cold of loss, the grief, the disappointment in yourself, the wondering if you could have done something to save them, even if only for a little while.

“Oh,” Helaena says again, quieter this time. “I’m sorry.”

Rhaenyra makes a noise, breathing deeper to calm herself down before she clears her throat to continue. “Thank you – um. After that, I shaved my head. As part of the grieving process. And I found I quite liked how little I had to care for it and worry about it, so I’ve kept it ever since.” Rhaenyra pauses a moment, then swallows. “I’ve been very grateful to, uh – have this time with you so far.”

“Oh,” is all she repeats. Rhaenyra can see where she plays with her fingers in her laps, and she can only feel like she’s overstepped. Finally, Rhaenyra takes a hair tie in her teeth, stretches it, then ties it around the end of Helaena’s braid. She runs her brush through Helaena’s hair, admiring the braided headband she’d crafted and the little detail braids that snaked through it. If this was the only time she’d ever get to braid a daughter’s hair, she was proud of it.

“There you are,” she finally says, delicately tucking one braid’s end to further hide it. “I will, um – I’ll go get the boys. Then we can go.” She picks up her brush and the rest of the hair ties she’d brought down and turns to return to her room.

“Rhaenyra?” Helaena asks after her.

She turns to respond and is met with Helaena’s arms wrapping around her to pull her into a hug. Her head tucks against Rhaenyra’s shoulder, her grip even. She gives good hugs, just the same as her mother. Rhaenyra wraps her arms around her, leans her cheek against her head, and closes her eyes. She could only be blessed to have Helaena as her daughter.

Helaena’s eyes are flighty when they pull away, as though Helaena knows she should make eye contact and yet can’t fully commit. Rhaenyra doesn’t hold her to it, only utters a quiet thank you and touches her cheek.

With lunch cooking away, Alicent waves the group off. She’s pleased to see that Helaena has convinced Aegon to join them, if only so that he isn’t alone while she and Aemond go out shopping.

Rhaenyra finds that she’s beginning to see even more of herself in Alicent’s children. If Aegon is her rebelliousness, Helaena her gentleness, and Aemond her stubbornness, she comes to find that Daeron is her fearlessness. She’s called for the help to dress their horses for riding, and though Helaena mentions on the walk to the stables that none of them have ever ridden horseback before, she watches as Daeron walks up to a silver-white mare and climbs on without hesitation.

“Daeron –” she calls, only to be taken by surprise when he hoists himself up and lands perfectly on the saddle.

“Did I do it right?” He asks, and she can only laugh.

“You did!”

Daeron whoops in celebration, kicking his mount into a trot. She watches as he tests out the control, pulling lightly on the reins whilst he comes to understand her. He’s a quick learner, she can tell.

She helps the rest of the children up to their horses, letting Helaena and Aegon have their picks – Helaena opts for another silver-white horse while Aegon goes for their golden steed. This leaves the rest of the family to their usual horses, with Rhaenyra and Joffrey atop tawny Syrax, Luke on grey-speckled Arrax, and Jacaerys on mahogany Vermax.

Daeron is still exploring the abilities of Tessarion, having brought her into a trot around the yard before he tugs on the reins to slow her down as he returns to the group. “You’re a natural,” Rhaenyra compliments.

“This is sick,” he shows off his face-splitting grin as he passes her.

“Jace,” Rhaenyra calls, “would you like to lead us?”

The trail they ride is a big loop, overgrown in certain places but easy enough on a horse. She finds a lot of joy in getting to watch them all interact like this, watching Daeron kick Tessarion into a gallop at the front of the group just to return to them moments later, getting to watch Luke talk to Helaena about her horse, Dreamfyre, and how she’d always been a temperamental one, watching Jace and Aegon lead the group behind Daeron’s sprints to and from.

It’s a peaceful thing, this almost-family.

She can’t help but wish Alicent was by her side, even though Alicent had made it clear that the largest animal she could reasonably tolerate were dogs, and that she loathed the idea of trying to control something so much bigger than her. They were opposites in that sense, but Rhaenyra quite liked that Alicent was so timid around things like that. It made playing knight much easier.

Even Aemond’s absence is felt – though everyone seems to seem to get on just fine, Rhaenyra can’t help but imagine that Aegon would want his brother to talk to, that Helaena would be grateful for his height and strength and chivalry helping her on and off her horse, that Daeron would like to race his brother up and down the trail if only he were here.

Aemond, on the other hand, is grateful that Rhaenyra and her pack are far away. He finds disappointment only in the fact that they had taken his mother’s station wagon into town rather than one of the vintage cars collecting dust in the garage – he’d trade leg room for style any day.

It’s hard to complain when spending time with his mother, though. He’s a dutiful son, pushing the car carrying the reusable bags from specialty shop to specialty shop. With how much Rhaenyra has been hoarding his mother’s free time, it’s nice to be of service to her, reaching things from the top shelf and holding doors open for her. Even if it’s a chore, even if these little things are moments that others would pass up, he knows to appreciate them.

(And yes, he does feel better than Rhaenyra for selflessly coming with Alicent to run errands when her own girlfriend chose to go gallivanting.)

“Thank you for coming with me,” she says as they pull into the driveway again.

“I’m always happy to help you,” he replies, speaking candidly. He helps her finish preparing lunch, but ends up eating just the two of them at the table as Rhaenyra hasn’t returned. He likes it better this way, even if he wishes his siblings were there to join them. This is what things could have been like, if only Rhaenyra had not insisted on forcing her way into the picture.

After they’ve finished the dishes and laid everything out for the others to serve themselves, Alicent makes them tea and they head to the library to read together. It’s there where Aemond feels most grateful for her, in the moments he feels have been stolen from him. Moments of peace and solitude with the person who gave him everything, who gave everything for him, who he would give anything for.

Their peace is interrupted by Daeron first. They can hear them, thundering through the halls with laughs and heavy footsteps like a stampede, before Daeron appears in the doorway.

“How was it?” Alicent asks.

“So cool,” he responds, shaking his head. “Rhaenyra taught me how to jump and I was whipping up and down the trail. I am, however, extremely chafed.”

“Daeron,” she scowls.

“You should have stayed out there longer,” Aemond tells him.

“I wanted to, but Nyra thinks it’s going to rain soon and wanted the horses back in the stables.”

His blood flashes hot. Apparently his brother and the witch had moved to nickname territory – traitor, he was, as if Aemond needed any further proof. Aemond clenches his jaw and looks to his book to ensure that Daeron knows he doesn’t care in the slightest.

“Do you have plans for the afternoon?” Alicent asks, “Have you eaten?”

“Aegons taking a shower and I’ve convinced him to play ping pong with me after,” Daeron replies. “You can play the winner, Aemond.”

“I’ll pass,” comes his dry response.

Alicent gives Daeron a look that Aemond only misses because he refuses to seem interested enough to look. She closes her book and stands, places a kiss on Aemond’s head and follows her youngest into the hall.

Rhaenyra’s prediction comes true, and shortly after everyone has returned to the safety of the house, the sky opens up and a steady rainfall covers everything they can see.

Helaena finds her way onto the patio and makes a seat for herself, holding her knees to her chest and watching the rain fall. She’d like to feel it, the rhythm of each drop on her skin, the grass turning to mud beneath her feet, to remove care from her mind and feel like she is one with the world around her, breathing, living, existing as all things should.

She knows her mother will chide her for dirtying her clothes, and knows that Rhaenyra’s careful braid has held up well thus far – it would be foolish and disrespectful to run through the rain and throw her head about and ruin Rhaenyra’s hard work.

So for now, she’ll simply sit and watch, finding patterns in the raindrops and enjoying the music they make against the roof and windows and soft ground.

“Can I join you?”

Helaena turns to look over her shoulder where Jacaerys is standing. “Sure,” she says, and she looks back to the rain.

“Penny for your thoughts?” He asks after a moment.

She turns to him again, “Do you have a penny?”

He splutters for a second, “I mean – I could go find one –” before he reads the smile threatening to break through her expression and looks away with his cheeks tinging pink.

“I’m thinking about dancing in the rain,” Helaena answers.

“What about it?”

“How much I want to do it. And what it would feel like.”

Jace’s brows quirk and he asks his next question as if she’s left out a part of her story, “Why don’t you?”

“I’ll ruin my hair,” Helaena states the obvious, “and I’ll get my clothes dirty.”

“You can wash your clothes,” Jace offers. “The maids will do it. My mom did your hair, right?”

Helaena nods.

Jacaerys shrugs. “She’ll do it again, if you ask.”

His answers feel too obvious, too easy. “I don’t want to seem ungrateful,” Helaena replies quietly; if there is one thing she has learned from her mother, it is that to love means to go without.

“You won’t,” he promises her, with the sly smile of a mischievous knight rescuing a princess. He offers her his hand, “Would you dance with me?”

Helaena keeps her eyes on him as she places her feet on the ground, giving him the wide-eyed stare that Aegon always complains is unsettling. Jacaerys doesn’t seem to find it unsettling, though – he only smiles in triumph as she pulls her sneakers from her feet and tucks her socks into her shoes, then takes Jace’s hand.

The rain is cool on her skin and instantly she erupts in gooseflesh across her bare arms. The ground is soft and wet beneath her feet, the beginnings of mud squishing between her toes through the lattice of grass. The breeze that lifted her hair just a moment ago now falters as her hair soaks with water and goes slick.

“Do you know how to waltz?” Jace asks, water droplets slipping from his lashes like diamonds.

Helaena shakes her head, then squints up at the swirling grey clouds above them.

“Follow my lead, okay?” He asks, and Helaena fixes her cornflower eyes on him. He uses his feet to push hers gently, guiding them in a staggered box.

“Sorry,” she says after stepping on his shoe, her foot leaving a dirty print on the toe. “Sorry.”

“It’ll wash off,” he assures her. “Come on. Let’s try again.”

Helaena is hesitant, but she lets her hands relax in his hold once more. Her face twists into a smile again and she stumbles through the steps once more, stepping on his feet. “Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he insists, “here – stand on my feet.”

She looks at him again, waiting for a punchline or something else to brush away the offer, but it doesn’t come. She giggles as she steps onto his feet, soaking the fabric of his converse with dirty water, and he picks up dancing, spinning her around in the rain. “Okay – go, spin,” he instructs, holding out a lifted arm. Helaena spins under it, then lets herself get pulled back in.

They get sloppier, Helaena’s feet slipping from his until they’re throwing form to the wind and spinning one another as they please. Jace is a good dance partner, she finds, especially once he’s done away with whatever half-baked dance routine someone tried to teach him as a preteen – Helaena knows, she attended the etiquette classes, too.

“Helaena!” A call from her mother shatters the moment. “What are you doing?” There’s concern in her voice; she’s come outside to the edge of the patio to call out to her daughter. “Christ – look at your pants!”

Surely enough, she’s kicked up mud and dirt onto the hem of her jeans. Jacaerys had been right about it washing out, but she’d planned on rinsing them in a sink before stuffing them to the bottom of her hamper so that her mother might not react like this.

In what may have been an act of God, Joffrey runs past her and into the rain, skipping and squealing in joy.

“Come on, mum!” It’s Luke’s voice this time, coming from behind her with Rhaenyra’s hand in his. Joffrey runs into Jace’s arms as Luke pulls Rhaenyra into the rain, jumping in a young puddle.

Alicent is left speechless, watching everyone file past her into the rain. Rhaenyra waves her hand in invitation, but Alicent shakes her head. “My hair!” She calls.

“You can style it again!” Rhaenyra replies, picking Luke up beneath the arms to spin him in a circle. He cries out in laughter, kicking his legs out.

“Are we running around in the rain?” Daeron appears behind her, stepping out of his shoes. He lets out a whoop as he skips into the rain, too. Aegon is behind him, only slightly less enthusiastic. “Come on, mum!” Daeron calls to her.

Alicent scowls, shaking her head.

“Come on!” Jacaerys calls, grin wide on his face.

Helaena jogs towards her, arms open. “Hug her!”

Alicent barely has time to protest before her daughter’s arms are around her. She wouldn’t dream of pushing her off, but she does cringe as her sweater soaks with rainwater. Joffrey squeals with laughter as he wraps himself around her legs, and then Rhaenyra is at her back, and before very long she is in the center of a mass that pushes her out into the rain, all cheering and laughing at the feigned anguish of becoming soaked. One by one they pull away – all but Rhaenyra, who spins Alicent around and takes her face in her hands to kiss her.

(She really is like a fairytale come to life.)

Though she doesn’t see it, she knows it’s Aegon who wolf whistles, leaving Alicent a deep red as she pulls away and resigns herself to being soaked by the rain.

It’s worth it, in the end. They skip around in circles with Joffrey, and Alicent relishes in Helaena’s screams of joy when Aegon hoists her over his shoulder and spins her around. Daeron tries to wrestle Jacaerys, only for Luke to jump to his brother’s aid as he is pressed into the mud. Daeron calls out for his brother, only to accidentally sweep him off his feet – and then Joffrey joins in, and Helaena and Rhaenyra – leaving Alicent as their sole target in a chase around the yard.

Rhaenyra calls them off, leaving only muddy handprints on her cheeks and a smear on her nose.

It isn’t something Alicent would have ever normally permitted, not with all of the laundry that was sure to follow, but on the other side of the library window, Aemond watches all of it.

He watches the cheering, the laughing and yelling and hugging. The rain only obscures so much, and he can hear all of it just fine. He watches them file past the window he sits behind, dirty and soaked and arm-in-arm, all of them. Aemond swallows, his frustration finally beginning to boil over as the showers start and doors close.

Aemond heads for his own room, almost eager for a fight. He shoulders past Aegon in the hall to get into his own room. Behind his back, Daeron sends his eldest brother a wary look.

“Are you good?” Aegon asks. He’s stripped out of his dirty clothes, leaving only his wet hair and a smear of mud on his neck as proof he’d been outside.

“Fuck off,” Aemond replies dryly. Daeron takes this as his cue to lean into the room as well, his towel in his hands.

“Touchy,” he comments.

Helaena appears behind him. “What’s wrong?”

“None of you have any loyalty,” Aemond replies, digging through his suitcase. He isn’t really sure what he’s looking for, only that he wants to seem busy.

“Oh my God,” Daeron almost laughs.

Aemond rounds on them. “You were supposed to be on my side,” he hisses. “You’re supposed to be loyal to your family, and you’ve all forgotten that. You’re buying into her fucking plan and you can’t even see it – this is what she wants.”

“Obviously!” Daeon sputters, still just barely biting back his laughs. “She’s being nice! She wants us to like her!”

“You’re such an idiot,” Aemond scoffs. “She’s being taken advantage of!” He all but shouts, moving closer to Daeron.

“Aemond,” Aegon tries.

“You’re jealous of her!” Daeron insists, “You’re mad that mum isn’t yours and you’re taking it out on everyone else.”

“I’m the only one of us looking out for her – we were supposed to go into this together to protect her and you’ve all fucked off to make friends with her kids and kiss her arse.”

“You’re being a dickhead!” Daeron replies, no longer holding back his laugh. “You’re freaking out over nothing –”

“You get to say fuck all about what I’m being when none of you are at home anymore to know what it’s like. You’ve all fucking left and I’m the only one worried about us being a family anymore because you’re all too fucking selfish to care about me, or about mum,” Aemond snaps.

“Relax,” Aegon tries, reaching out to put a hand on his shoulder.

“Fuck you,” he spits. “See how you’ll fucking like it when you’re sitting in your own fucking vomit and she’s too busy with Rhaenyra to come clean up after you. You’re just like dad.”

“Woah,” Daeron says, dragging it out. Aegon’s lip curls and he shakes his head, turning around to return to his room.

“You’re no fucking better, you know?” Aemond focuses on his younger brother again. “You fucking go off to school and come back when you please. Just like dad did. You’re only around when it fucking suits you to have your ass wiped.”

Daeron rolls his eyes, “Have your fucking fit then, bro. No wonder mum is trying to find someone else to spend time with.”

“Cocksucker,” Aemond calls after him, but Daeron has shut the bathroom door already.

He and Helaena are left facing one another. She stands in the hallway, fists clenched and looking up at him. Her hair has begun to dry, lifting up in patches of frizz around her head – there’s mud smeared at her hairline where she’d failed to finish cleaning it off completely. Her lips are bloody and freshly bitten at, her eyes rimmed red and thick with tears. She sports a frown, thick and trembling. It feels like a stand-off, sitting there watching her, each of them waiting for the other to do something.

“You’re being mean,” she finally says.

“You’re not naive enough to think that I’m wrong,” he fires back with a sneer.

“Stop it!” She insists. “You’re the one ruining everything,” her fists shake and she stomps her foot petulantly. She’s never been good at handling anger or frustration like this.

“Get out of my way,” he finally says, then shoulders past her. He descends the stairs, knowing the best place to find his mother will doubtlessly be in the kitchen. Despite Rhaenyra’s best efforts to bulldoze through her boundaries of having not wanted to get so dirty in the rain, his mother is too loyal to let meal planning go to waste, and with beef wellington on the menu he knows she’ll have to start early. She’ll find time for him, he knows she will – that she’ll hold him and promise him that things aren’t falling apart, that dinner can wait. He freezes in the doorway of the kitchen.

“Your mum didn’t mention that you liked cooking,” Alicent says, turning her head with a smile as she watches Jace dry off his hands. She’s cleaned herself better than most, her hair pinned in an equally elegant and messy mass of curls at the back of her head.

“Well,” he shrugs, sputtering over his words for a second, “I don’t, I’ve got the delivery bills to prove it, but I figured if you were going out of your way to make my favorite I’d try to help where I can.”

Alicent laughs, a whimsical noise that cuts Aemond nearly deeper than her betrayal. “Well,” she says, moving a wooden spoon through a skillet on the stove, “you’re absolutely welcome here. You’re taking on a very big recipe for a beginner, but I’m sure it will turn out well.”

Aemond’s chest burns. She’s falling away from him and she can see it plainly, that what she’d participated in was not unfortunate timing but perhaps a conscious choice. That perhaps she’s made her choice to turn from their family and go towards Rhaenyra’s – that is his spot by her side. The realization that the time they’d spent together this morning, talking and laughing and enjoying one’s company had not been in the interest of providing for everyone as a whole or spending time with him but rather as a vessel for a gift for Jacaerys hurts like a slap across the face – worse. Like being hit by a bus.

She only notices a flash of blonde as he leaves, stalking away toward the garage.

Rhaenyra walks from one of the rooms and only narrowly avoids him as he passes with force, turning to watch him open the garage door and slam it so hard behind him that it echoes through the house. Alicent steps into the hall and Rhaenyra gives her a puzzled look.

“Was that Aemond?” Alicent asks, and before Rhaenyra can answer her, they hear a car come to life on the other side of the wall. Rhaenyra turns and pulls the door open as Helaena rushes down the stairs and Jacaerys moves into the hallway as well. She hears Alicent asking her daughter what the matter is while watching Aemond pull their mustang out into the driveway and speed down the wet driveway.

Aemond needs to go. He needs to drive away, go home – but he’s not sure he’s been able to hold onto it. Is their little apartment still a home if he has no family left to count on, if it is only him there? Rhaenyra has taken it from him, has abducted his sister and his brothers and his mother, leaving only him behind. He, who never wanted to come. He, who only wanted to bring his family closer again. He, who watched them all turn their backs on him.

He presses the gas pedal into the floor of the car and searches for some relief in the hum of the engine or the feeling of its purr in the front seat, but nothing comes. He only feels this suffocating frustration, anger, loneliness, spilling over inside him and clogging his throat, blurring his vision.

The rain hasn’t let up – he’s not an experienced driver and he knows these tires won’t hold up well on slick roads, but it hardly slows him.

He doesn’t know what to do with his feelings, so he drives. Maybe if he goes fast enough, everything else will melt away, and when time comes for him to surface, his siblings will be safely in their beds and his mother will be shaking him awake from a strange dream where they were all stolen from him by strangers.

Is it him, he wonders? Was it truly him who pushed them all towards them in his attempts to bring his family closer – and if it wasn’t, then why did they go anyway? What about him spoke so deeply to their hosts that they left him out of their indoctrination? There was simply nothing left for him. Even his mother, who he had desperately tried to give the benefit of the doubt to, turned to Jacaerys instead of him. He could understand the younger boys – they were children, ones who didn’t have much to say or strong opinions of their own – but to have Jacaerys at her side instead of him stung.

He had lived through this once before, but it cut so much deeper this time. Through his father’s abuse, he had his siblings to turn to – late nights where he and Daeron would be woken by his father’s yelling – raised voice, he would call it if any of them dared to name a spade a spade – or muffled crying, or even by Helaena or Aegon coming in to their room. They would pile into one bed and reassure one another, or Aegon would suggest making a fort, or Aemond would try and read everyone a story to calm them down and reassure one another that things would be okay.

And then there were the days that Alicent couldn’t pretend that things were fine, nights where she would gather their little bodies in her arms as best she could and repeat how much she loved them, that she would never let anything happen to them, that she was theirs in every sense of the word. She tried, too, to convince them that he loved them just as much as she did, but her voice always sounded hollow, unsure herself.

He learned after his father’s passing that she would never accept the reality of the situation – even today she swears that he was a good husband to her, even if he was not the most present father. What’s worse is that Aemond actually thinks she believes it. His mother was weaned on her father’s poison, he knows harm is her comfort.

He’s been through this before, this abandonment. Never this quickly, or this severely. His father’s abandonment was a slow, rolling one. He thinks that by the time he was born, he had pulled away enough that maybe Aemond never knew his presence at all, only his shadow. But he knew his mother’s presence like he knew himself, and now that she has slipped away, it feels like there is nothing left of him, just hollow skin and lonely bones. It was his mother that had held them together through their father’s death, and Aemond has tried and failed to help her. Perhaps that was his first mistake – not realizing she’d been the first to pull away.

Perhaps his siblings had been right – his mother was grown. Maybe Rhaenyra was not the conniving witch he’d imagined but that his mother had… grown tired of them? Found a purpose beyond her family? Is he so selfish for wishing she had only them?

On the horizon, the sun slips lower and lower. Aemond wishes he could pull off the road, lie his head down on the seat here and disappear. Be free of the consequences of this outburst and the reality of his family’s splintering. He wishes he were a boy again, back in the miserable time of his father being a shadow – it was hard, yes, but they were together – if only so that he might put his head in his mother’s lap and listen to her assure him that it would be okay.

Aemond pulls the car to the side of the road and rests his head on the wheel. He hates Rhaenyra – hates her polite sons and her beautiful house and how kind she’d been already. He reckons it won’t last, not with the fact that he’s stolen her car now. Perhaps she’ll have been kind enough to pack his things for him, if his belongings are not already sitting in the rain.

By the time he’s able to stomach turning around and going back, the sun has set. The rain has petered out into a mild drizzle, and the road is winding but quite remote; he’d been too on-edge to make any drastic directional choices, so he only has one road to follow until he returns to the driveway. The front yard is free of bags or piled-up clothes, and only the porch light is on. As he pulls into the garage, he wonders which would make him feel worse – the entire group having stayed up to reprimand him, or the fact that no one worried enough to stay up?

He parks the car in the garage and heads inside, grateful for the small mercy of not having to speak to anyone until tomorrow morning at the earliest.

“Oh my God,” comes a sigh of relief, and Aemond looks up just in time to see his mother rushing towards him, arms open and pulling him in for a hug. He hasn’t been shorter than her for a few years now, and she holds herself against his chest. “Oh, Aemond. I was so worried.”

The relief in her voice cracks something in him open. His throat goes tight – she had waited for him after all. “Oh, are you okay?” She asks. She pulls away, hands on his arms as she looks him over. “Are you cold? You haven’t eaten.”

Aemond can’t bear to look her in the face and lets his gaze drop. She places a hand on his cheek. “What happened?” She all but begs. The tightness in his throat grows and his jaw trembles – he is supposed to be the glue that holds them together. He should not break, even as Alicent pulls him into a sitting room and takes him to the couch. She takes both of his hands and tries to find his gaze.

“Aemond,” she pleads.

“We’re falling apart,” he says, then bites the inside of his lip.

Alicent deflates a little. “You –” she starts, and then stops herself and swallows. For a moment, she only looks at him with concern.

“This is about Rhaenyra,” she says.

“She’s taking our family,” Aemond insists.

“She is not taking –”

“She’s taken you,” Aemond cuts her off. He clenches his jaw in an attempt to keep it from shaking but fails.

“Aemond,” she sighs, and he curls in closer to her. Her arms reach out, pulling his head to her chest. “Is that what it is?”

“Everyone’s gone,” he sniffles. “Daeron’s gone and Aegon is gone and Helaena is gone and she’s trying to take you, too. We can’t even have term breaks, either – she’s taken that, too.”

“She hasn’t,” she insists, hugging him tighter. “My sweet boy,” she drops her head to rest against his, rocking ever so slightly. “Nothing will ever change the fact that you and your siblings come first – no one will ever change that,” she assures him.

“They’re acting like you’re their mum – they’re taking you from me.”

“There is plenty of me to go around,” she assures him. “Have you felt that I’ve been distant?”

Aemond doesn’t answer. Saying yes feels like putting unnecessary pressure on her.

“Aemond, I’m sorry,” she sighs, squeezing him closer. “I thought that –”

“Everyone has,” he interrupts. “It doesn’t feel like we’re a family anymore.”

Alicent releases a deep breath after a moment. “This isn’t about Rhaenyra,” she says quietly. She moves his hair from his face with a gentle fingertip.

It takes a moment for Aemond to respond. “No one is ever – no one is ever home anymore. It’s just me. Aegon and Helaena,” he says.

“Are growing up,” she interrupts gently. “And you are, too. As much as I would love to think that you won’t, you’re growing, too. We have to let them grow up and keep going. They’ll come back to us,” she tells him. “That’s what people who love you do.”

Aemond stays quiet, mulling over her words.

“They miss you, Aemond. They miss you so much. But our family is changing the way it looks… and that might mean that some people step away while others step in. I know you miss them, but… you have not been kind to those boys. They would have loved to play and hang out with you.”

“I don’t want new brothers,” Aemond says, feeling every bit as much the child he is acting like, “I liked our family as it was.”

“You can’t treat them like you have,” Alicent replies gently, petting his hair. “They only want to–”

“They only want to have you for themselves. And take you away.”

“No one is taking me away, Aemond,” she tries.

“She’s taking advantage of you!”

“She isn’t,” Alicent repeats, her tone insistent this time. “Why do you say that?”

“You’ve done nothing but wait on her hand and foot.”

Alicent sighs, searching for the words. “Darling, just because… just because you don’t see the ways she cares for me, doesn’t mean they’re not there,” she tries. Aemond goes quiet for a minute.

“I just don’t want it to be like it was with dad,” he finally admits. “Where you do everything and she just gets to exploit you for being nice.”

“Oh, Aemond,” Alicent curls around him and kisses his temple. “My darling. She’s not. I know you want to protect me. Thank you,” she swipes a delicate fingertip beneath his eye. “And I know you think I haven’t learned, but… she’s very good to me. I promise you,” she squeezes his shoulder for emphasis. “And she wants you to like her. You don’t have to, but – please. They’re only children. Give them a try, for me. I think you and Jace might have even been friends if you’d met another way,” she says, stroking his arm back and forth.

He says nothing, having all but sunk into her lap. She rubs his back like she used to when he was a boy, when he was still in the process of being pushed into the role he held today. Protector, caretaker, brother.

“You should get some sleep,” Alicent finally says. “I’m sure you’re even more tired than I am.”

Aemond makes a noise of acceptance. He doesn’t particularly want to, but he’s a dutiful son. He has no choice but to trust her, really – his plan has utterly failed, collapsed in on itself. What else can he do that hasn’t been done by now? He rises, rubbing at his eyes as he stands up.

His mother is a head shorter than him, but he bows as she puts her hands on his cheeks so that she can lay a kiss on his hairline. She holds him there, waiting patiently until he looks at her. “Just because I love her doesn’t mean I love you any less,” she tells him carefully. “I just love her in a different way. A way that would never, ever come between us or any of your siblings.” She swallows, then slides her hands down to his shoulders and squeezes. “Sleep well,” she tells him.

Aemond returns to his room, sitting his weary body on the side of his bed. He’s not too deeply worried about his siblings – he’d said cruel things, but siblings did that. They would forgive him. It’s Rhaenyra and the Velaryons that he’s most worried about, really. They have no reason to forgive him or to continue treating him kindly, and he suspects that some grand gesture may be in order – not even to get him into their good graces, but to pull him off their shit-lists. He’d be happy to be completely neutral, but he thinks that it may be too late for that.

His eyes wander to the box he’d been gifted on the first night, and he leans over to pick it up. He turns the crudely wrapped present over in his hands and listens to the light clinking inside. He pulls at one of the edges and the paper falls away, misplaced tape no match for his barest pressure. He finds a toy underneath, the box for a Lego Chevrolet Camaro. He sinks his teeth into his tongue, suddenly much more clear now on why Joffrey had been asking to play with him so much. He sets the toy on his nightstand and curls into bed, hoping that sleep comes quickly.

Alicent is a creature of habit, and her wake-up time is no different. After the night they’d had yesterday, between Helaena’s tears, passing her around and supplying comfort where they could that she had not set off Aemond’s outburst, and all of the almost-sent out search parties the boys had tried to organize, all of which had been snuffed out by their mothers, she and Rhaenyra had decided to give everyone a late morning.

She, however, is not lucky enough to participate when she comes to at seven and isn’t able to coax herself back to sleep. When she starts to disturb Rhaenyra with her tossing and turning, she decides it’s best if she finds something to do with herself until everyone begins to come to.

Even if her body has decided it’s time to rise, her mind hasn’t quite caught up, and she moves through the kitchen in a haze as she puts the french press together. She’s surprised to find the house nearly silent – no talking or music or even showers running. She’d expected at least little Joff to be up and about, knowing from many interrupted mornings that children as young as he did not care how late they had gone to sleep the night previous, only that you were awake when they were.

As her drink steeps, she rummages through the drawers to find the place settings for the breakfast table, and armed with placemats and fabric napkins, she moves towards the dining room, only to be stopped dead in her tracks.

Before her sits the answer to why little Joff hadn’t roused his mother; he is busy with Aemond. He sits in Aemond’s lap, looking over a picture booklet with half a dozen open plastic bags around them.

“Can I have a red square one?” Aemond asks him, and Joffrey leans forward, shuffling through bricks before lifting one up for him. “And I need two more of the little single white ones.”

Joffrey obeys, pulling them out of a miscellaneous pile. Aemond lifts their project and points out where the pieces should go so that Joffrey can click them into place. Alicent’s heart melts and she only narrowly stops herself from making a comforted noise and disturbing the moment.

She feels hands find her waist, one lifting the hem of her shirt to press against her skin. “That smells amazing,” Rhaenyra says sleepily, her face pressed against Alicent’s shoulder.

“Look,” she whispers, nudging her gently. Rhaenyra lifts her gaze, and Alicent can pinpoint the moment that their sons come into view by the way her breath catches. She leans her head against Alicent’s – it’s too tender a moment to say I told you so, but Alicent knows she wishes to say it.

Alicent turns her head to watch Rhaenyra watch the boys, then presses a kiss to her cheek after a moment. “What do you think about ordering something in?” She asks quietly.

Rhaenyra’s pleased smile only grows to a grin before she looks at her. “I like that,” she murmurs. “Maybe we’ll even eat on the couch.”

They do end up eating on the couch. Rhaenyra has pastries from a local bakery delivered, and Alicent eats on a sofa for the first time in well over twenty years – but it feels fine. The love of her life is beside her, and their children are all packed in around the coffee table. They’ve only just started when Joffrey runs in with the car completed in his hands, making dramatic revving noises as he pushes the car over empty space on the table and over Jace’s head. Aemond joins them, sitting on the floor before his mother’s feet.

Even he has to admit it – it feels like family.