Chapter Text
Confused and still slightly teary, Aemond sways against a nearby doorframe. This is the room they’d said Aegon was in, and he can make out some writhing silhouettes through the gossamer curtains, but it’s so very hard to see. He sniffles and rubs at his eye. Thinks of calling out for him, then thinks better of it.
Everything in here is overwhelming and confusing – too many colors, not enough light. The scent of incense and perfume is overpowering, yet barely masks the raw, human stench clinging to every surface. The sights are stranger still – grotesque, sinful things he’d never imagined; things that make him sick just thinking about.
His stomach lurches and the floor tilts beneath his feet, threatening to send him toppling. He hates it here and he wants to leave.
A hand comes to rest on his shoulder. “Oh, sweetling.” It’s her, he realizes. The woman from before. His stomach knots. “Would you like me to fetch him for you?”
He nods without looking up.
She ruffles his hair and then pulls the curtains back. Aegon is there – Aemond can just make out his silver hair amongst the tangled bodies of men and women alike, all laughing and making noises that make Aemond feel anxious in a way he doesn’t quite understand.
“Your Grace?” she calls to him.
There comes the familiar sound of Aegon groaning in frustration. “I’m not ‘your Grace’,” he snaps over his shoulder.
The woman is patient, putting a hand on Aemond’s shoulder again. “Apologies, milord, but someone here wants you.”
“I’m not your ‘lord’ either, and tell them to wait their turn!”
Aemond sniffles again. “Aeg.”
Finally, Aegon turns to look, and a broad smile splits his face. “There he is!” he crows, extricating himself from the pile of bodies. By the way he’s stumbling and slurring, Aemond can tell he’s been in his cups. He falls heavily into his little brother, wrapping him in an embrace. “Leering in the corridor, were you? Little fiend! How was it?”
He tries to squirm away, but Aegon doesn’t let him. His thing, his cock, is still standing up and it looks hard and angry, and Aemond doesn’t want it near him like that. His own has only recently started to do that, and mostly in the morning. He never knows what to do when it happens; all he knows is that it’s sinful. He just ignores it until it goes away.
“Can we leave?” he whimpers, tugging self-consciously at his eyepatch.
Aegon laughs, breath blooming wine-warmth across Aemond’s face. “Whatever for? The night is young!”
“You ought to join us, little princeling!” calls one of the men on the bed. He’s young – around Aegon’s age – dark-haired, and very good-looking. Smiling. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you? I’ll bet you taste just as sweet as you look.”
Oh, Aemond goes pink. He presses his eye shut, screwing his face up until his scar aches. He squeezes at his brother’s arms. “Aegon, please.”
Aegon cranes his neck down, taking in the sight of his brother’s face. “Are you weeping?” he asks, far too loudly for Aemond’s comfort.
“No.” A lie. He squirms. He ought not to be weeping – he’s the rider of the largest dragon in the world, which makes him a fierce and formidable warrior. But right now, he doesn’t feel very fierce at all. He’s frightened and overwhelmed and uncomfortable, because what’s happening now requires an entirely different sort of courage than dragon riding, and it’s a courage he knows he does not possess. “Please, Aeg, I want to go. I don’t feel very good.”
“Well, I feel fine, and I want to stay!”
“I’ll tell mother you brought me here, and then she’ll chain you into your chambers.”
That finally does it. Likely fearing a slap, Aegon relents. “Oh, you’re no fun anymore. Fine.” He lurches gracelessly around the room, gathering up his shed clothing and re-dressing. Aemond tries not to look at his brother’s cock, but it’s unavoidable. It’s still hard and painful-looking, and Aegon seems to have a difficult time shoving it into his trousers. That strange, anxious feeling stirs in Aemond’s stomach again, and this time he feels his heart beat a few times between his legs.
Sinful, sinful, sinful.
“No, my Prince!” one of the whores begs. “Don’t leave us yet!” She reaches for him, cupping his cheek against her palm.
Aegon grins and sucks on her fingers. “You know you’ve not seen the last of me.”
Amidst a chorus of mixed farewells and protests, Aegon takes his brother by the elbow and leads him towards the exit. Tentatively relieved, Aemond keeps up as best he can. But walking is making him even dizzier than before, and it sort of feels like his bones are too big for his skin, or maybe the other way around. His fingers are tingling, and he can’t feel his nose.
“Slow down,” he begs, nearly tripping over his own feet.
Aegon just yanks him harder. “Which is it? Hurry up and leave, or slow down?”
“I don’t feel right.”
Aegon pauses, inspecting his brother through narrowed eyes. “Are you drunk?”
Oh no, he hopes he’s not drunk. Is this what drunk is? “No. I don’t know. She gave me a drink and it burned my throat.”
Aegon cackles. “Seven Hells. Perfect, pious little Aemond is drunk? Just wait until the Septons hear about this! Oh, what will your precious Ser Criston say?”
Panic shoots through his veins. “No, don’t tell!” Oh, what if they try to take Vhagar away? What if they keep him from her until he can prove he’s responsible enough? Aemond lunges and grabs for his brother’s cloak, but misses badly and nearly falls. Luckily, Aegon catches him.
“Don’t be an idiot. Even if I did tell, I’d be the one they punished, not you. Come on.” He takes him by the elbow again and drags him onward. Aemond closes his eye, and that makes it feel like the floor is wobbling back and forth beneath his feet, but he can’t bear to see any more filth. Hearing it is bad enough. He clings to his brother, face pressed into his shoulder, and waits for it to be over.
The night air hits him squarely in the face, the filthy sounds of the brothel replaced by city noise. Aemond opens his eye to discover that yes, they’re free. They’re out. Relief washes over him, and finally, his limbs lose some of their tension.
“Come on,” Aegon says, leading him towards a narrow alleyway.
“No,” he slurs, trying to dig his heels in. “I don’t want to go down there.” It’s dark and frightening, and they only just left the dark and frightening. He wants to stay where it’s bright, and he can see where everyone is and what they’re doing.
“This is the way. And it’s safer for us in there than it is on the main streets, trust me. And put your hood on, stupid.” Careless fingers pull the rough cloth up over his head, tucking his hair away. “Come on.”
Aemond wobbles along as best he can, occasionally scraping a knee or an elbow on the rough stone walls. All the while, listening to Aegon mutter to himself.
“Can’t believe you. Ruining a perfectly good evening, though I don’t know what I expected. I hope you at least got my money’s worth, in there!”
Aemond can’t bring himself to tell him that he didn’t. The woman had given him that awful drink, making sure he finished it all, and then she kissed him, and that made him feel strange. She even licked the inside of his mouth, and that was stranger still. Like his skin was suddenly too hot and too tight. Then she’d taken her clothes of and laid back on the bed, and he could feel that his cock was filling up, which was both shameful and frightening and just the tiniest bit exciting. She smiled and spread her legs, showing him the wet, pink wound hidden there, and said, ‘That’s where you put it,’ and then Aemond thought of The Mother and bolted.
He dashed from the room and smacked hard into a sweaty, naked man who smiled down at him like a wolf. He was fat and covered in hair, and he reached down and lifted Aemond’s eyepatch, and at that point, Aemond is fairly certain he punched him. He thinks he did, anyway. He hopes. But then he didn’t know what to do, so he just started running around and shouting for Aegon. But Aegon didn’t answer, and people shouted back for him to shut up. He stumbled frantically from room to room amidst vicious threats and filthy propositions (equally terrifying), seeing and hearing and smelling things he didn’t know how to name, until someone finally pointed him in the right direction.
In the end, Aegon offered none of the comfort or safety he wanted. Aegon never, ever did.
And now, stumbling through the alleyway on his brother’s heels, Aemond feels worse than ever. His dizziness is intensifying, limbs less and less cooperative with each step, and he’s starting to feel vaguely sick. Maybe it was his fear keeping him sharp so that he could survive that terrible place (Cole says that happens to men in battle), and now that it’s all over with, everything seems to be catching up with him.
“Aeg,” he mumbles, feeling a little lightheaded, “Aeg, wait for me. Don’t leave me behind, I don’t feel well.” He stops, bracing a hand against one of the rough, stone walls. “Everything is all…tilted at a funny angle.”
“You’re drunk, you twat. Let’s go.”
“No, I—” Aemond’s stomach clenches, and before he can finish his sentence, he vomits onto the cobblestones. There’s not much in his stomach – just that horrible drink from the brothel, which burns even more coming up than it had going down.
Aegon is laughing, but it sounds like he’s underwater and far away. “That’s a good boy! Now we’re having a night!”
“Stop it,” he moans thickly, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. “It’s not funny!”
He takes a few stumbling steps away from the pool of his sick, trying to get to his brother. But he doesn’t make it very far before falling hard into the opposite wall. He still doesn’t feel right. He braces a hand on the stone, trying to catch his breath, and by the time he understands what’s happening, it’s too late to stop it. He stutters and shakes, and all at once, warmth and wetness jet against the inside of his trousers. He’s pissing himself. “Oh, no.”
“Seven Hells!” Aegon is upon him in an instant, hunching against his back and yanking his trousers down. It just keeps coming, and not neatly either. He’s spraying everywhere, he knows, sending shameful little threads of heat running down his thighs. “Aim, damn you!”
His face burns; he’s never felt so pathetic in all his life. “Don’t shout at me!”
“Fuck—” Aegon thrusts a hand under his brother’s arm and grabs his cock, directing it towards the wall. “What’s the matter with you?” Rough fingers pinch at his foreskin, pulling it back.
“I told you I don’t feel good!” Aemond moans. He leans back against his brother’s chest, curling into him. He spreads his feet a little wider, tears welling in his eyes. His empty socket stings badly – still not quite properly healed. He reaches up and shoves the eyepatch away, rubbing at the wound.
“Leave it alone, stupid,” Aegon scolds, jostling him.
“No, it’s all your fault.”
“Right,” he says, shaking the last few drops of piss from his brother’s cock. “All my fault, as usual. Stand up straight.”
Aemond just whimpers, leaning even more heavily. He’s not ready to move yet, limbs like lead keeping him tethered to this spot. He only needs a moment to get his bearings, and then he’ll be all right. Oddly, he still feels like he needs to piss. But no matter how hard he tries, nothing else comes out. And then he looks down and the shameful, horrifying truth becomes clear: his cock is swelling again, pulsing and filling in his brother’s hand. He freezes, unsure of what to do. He ought to tell Aegon to let go, or even shove him away. But he doesn’t want his brother to notice the sinful thing that’s happening, and he knows he’ll topple over the instant he’s let go.
Oh, too late. He agonized over it for too long, and Aegon has noticed. He’s frozen too, peering down over Aemond’s shoulder. He works his brother’s foreskin back down over the tip of his cock, and then retracts it again. Squeezes. It feels good. Aemond’s cock jerks weakly, only getting stiffer, and Aegon repeats the motion.
“Aeg?” he shakily whispers.
No answer, just more squeezing and stroking.
A tingling pulse has taken shape between Aemond’s legs, making his head even fuzzier than before. Like it’s stuffed with cotton, rather than brains. It’s hard for him to understand. It sort of feels like he had when that woman spread her legs for him to look, but he’s not nearly as afraid right now as he was then.
“Aegon.”
“Shh.”
“Wh-what are you doing?”
“Making you feel good,” Aegon says, and his voice has taken on a husky sort of quality that Aemond has never heard from him before. Somewhere between gentle and commanding. “Doesn’t that feel good?”
“I don’t…no, it’s a sin.” He says that, but makes no effort to stop him. Because it does feel good – a little painful, because everything Aegon does is painful, but he doesn’t mind it so much. It’s like a warm light in the pit of his stomach, sparking and spreading further outward with each stroke of his brother’s hand. And that can’t be sinful, can it? Warmth and light? Either way, it’s making him feel better about pissing himself. Aegon wouldn’t be touching him like this if he minded.
“I don’t think you did fuck that whore.”
Aemond’s face burns. “No, I swear I did.”
“Liar.” Fingertips pinch hard at the tip of his cock.
Aemond yelps, trying to flop away. “Don’t do that!”
But Aegon slings an arm across his chest; crushing him. “Keep your voice down.”
Aemond stills, obedient, watching as his brother squeezes his fist at the base of his cock. He slowly moves it upwards, and a bead of clear liquid drools out from the slit. Aegon catches it on his fingertips and spreads the wetness around.
“Oh—” Aemond pushes his hips into it, dizzier now than ever. The more Aegon touches him, the better it feels, like there’s something building up inside of him. His legs are starting to quiver, gravity tugging hard on his knees.
Aegon’s breath flutters past his hair as he hitches him up a little higher. “Haven’t you ever done this to yourself?”
“No, it’s a sin.” But is it, really? How could it be, when it feels this right? His chest floods with something like panic. One hand drifts up to squeeze at his brother’s arm, the other trying and failing to still his hand. “Aeg, I think you have to st— No, you have to stop.”
He doesn’t stop. “Why?”
“I think I have to piss again.”
“You don’t.”
“Wh-what?” Aemond’s breathing has turned shallow and ragged, ribs straining against his brother’s grip. “No, I really do!”
“You don’t. You’re going to come.”
“I’m— Oh!” It happens before he can even ask what it means. His body clenches tight and he drives his hips forward, into Aegon’s fist, and watches as spurts of white shoot out and paint the wall in front of him. That’s when it really feels good – waves of tingling heat pulse outward each time it happens, turning his spine to string. His eye flutters and rolls back, and Aegon has to hold him upright.
So good. The best he’s ever felt in all his life; better than winning a spar or even riding Vhagar. Definitely not sinful. How could it be? And Aeg must really care for him, to show him this incredible thing.
“See?” his brother taunts, jostling him lightly. “I told you it would make you feel good.”
Aemond just stammers, his head falling back limply against Aegon’s shoulder. That wonderful tingling feeling hasn’t quite stopped yet, and thinking is harder than ever. Should he kiss him? Should he kiss Aegon right now? He sort of wants to. He thinks he could reach if he stood on tiptoe.
“But now I rather think you owe me.”
Aemond blinks hazily, not quite understanding. “Wh-what?”
His brother shifts behind him, rustling around with his own clothing. Then he pulls Aemond’s trousers down lower, and they pool around his ankles.
“Here—” Aegon says, and Aemond opens his eye to see his brother’s palm hovering in front of his face. “Spit.”
He giggles. “What?”
“Spit, I said.”
He doesn’t understand, but he does it anyway. He sort of thinks he’d do anything Aegon told him to do right now.
The hand disappears from view again. “Good…good boy.”
Oh, he is, isn’t he? Doing just as his elder brother commands. And what a reward, after all. Maybe he ought to do what Aeg says more often.
There’s a wet slapping sound coming from behind him, and Aemond doesn’t quite understand what it is, and then he hears Aegon spit. What he can only identify as a wet hand slides up between his thighs, followed by a wet…something else. He doesn’t know what. He parts his legs to accommodate it.
“Wh-what’s that?” he mumbles, head lolling back against his brother’s shoulder.
“Shh.”
It feels thick and warm, and after a moment, he realizes it’s Aegon’s cock. It notches in behind his balls, wet at the tip. He can’t help but giggle again, because it really does feel funny.
“Just…here, do this. Cross your legs.” His voice is shaky.
Aemond feels his brother’s foot knock against his ankle, and he lets himself be guided. Right foot behind his left, pressing his thighs together.
“Good,” Aegon pants in his ear. “That’s good. Stay right like that.”
Aegon starts to move his hips, pushing his cock in and out between Aemond’s slickened thighs. He hugs him tightly, breathing hard in his ear. Aemond isn’t quite sure what to do. If everything wasn’t spinning so badly, he might try to rock into his brother’s thrusts. That feels like it would be the right thing to do. Instead, he just braces a hand on the wall and tries not to fall over.
The sensation changes, and Aemond realizes that Aegon’s cock is slipping downward. Without really thinking, he reaches down, tucks a few fingers between his legs, and coaxes it back upward again.
Aegon’s voice cracks and he squeezes him tighter. “Oh, f-fuck!”
“Here,” he whispers thickly, “here, Aeg, I— I can help.” He wants to be helpful. Aegon just made him feel so good. So, he holds his hand there and Aegon starts moving back and forth again. Every time he does, the tip of his cock bumps into Aemond’s palm – something that, by the sound of it, feels good for him.
“Oh, fuck!” he whines, “Oh fuck, yes, yes, that’s—Ah!"
All at once, Aegon freezes. Aemond is about to ask him what’s wrong, but then he feels his cock start to jerk up and down between his legs, and he realizes he’s coming now, too. Warmth jets against his palm, sticky and uncomfortable. Aemond is careful to stay very still throughout, listening and trying to learn what he can. He likes how important he feels to Aegon right now, and how tightly he’s being held.
When it’s over, Aegon withdraws his cock and Aemond lifts his filthy hand for inspection.
“Ew,” he giggles, holding it up for Aegon to see.
“Happened to you, too,” he grumbles, “I just wasn’t dumb enough to get it all over myself.” Hands on his shoulders, Aegon works his little brother around and leans him back against the wall, before setting about righting their clothing.
He holds his hand in front of him. “What do I do with it?”
Aegon chuckles, hitching his own trousers back up. “Taste it. It’s good for you.”
Completely trusting, Aemond raises his palm to his face and licks. A mistake, he learns. His brother had lied about this one, and the salty-bitter taste makes him dry-heave. Aegon is laughing again.
He whines, quite hurt by the trick. “No, that wasn’t funny, Aeg!”
“Oh, always the melodrama. You’re fine. Call it an acquired taste.” Aegon takes him by the wrist and licks up the spend himself – one long, slow swipe of his tongue, and it’s gone. Aemond can do little but watch and grimace. And then Aegon takes his hand, laces their fingers together, and yanks his brother onward.
Aemond stumbles along as best he can, clutching tightly to Aegon’s arm. His limbs feel boneless, and the dizziness is back; that cotton feeling between his ears. And now his trousers are chafing uncomfortably, wet as they are from when he’d…
He’d rather not think about that.
“You ought to just sleep in my chambers tonight,” Aegon announces. “It’ll be just like when we were small.”
Aemond smiles a little, because he like’s that idea a lot. Maybe Aegon can do that thing to him again. But in the morning, because right now he really doesn’t feel well. Blackness is beginning to encroach at the edges of his vision, and it’s getting increasingly hard for him to keep up. Physically and mentally, he realizes. “Can I sleep in your bed with you?”
“Of course, you can. Wouldn’t want our dearest mother to find you in this state, now, would we?”
Oh, mother. Aemond had forgotten about her entirely. Panic sparks without catching, and he clings harder. “No, I don’t want her to know about this, Aeg. Please don’t tell.”
He laughs, but he sounds far away again. “I won’t.”
“No, swear.”
“I swear, I swear. And look!”
Aemond blinks in confusion, trying to get his eye to focus so that he can see what Aegon is showing him. They’ve emerged from the alley (hard to imagine he’d once been afraid of what would happen to him in there!) and he can see the Red Keep up ahead. He smiles, because everything seems sort of right. He can’t remember feeling this right ever before.
“Come on,” Aegon says, using that gentle, commanding voice from before. “Let’s get you inside and cleaned up, baby brother.” He wraps an arm around his shoulders, holding him tight.
Smile still on his face, Aemond closes his eye, and allows himself to be dragged away.