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arcielee · 2 years ago

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She Walks in Starlight

Summary: There is a promise made, a choice that will forever change the cosmos. Paring: Aemond!Hades x OFC!Persephone Word Count: 5210 Warnings: Mention of character(s) death. It’s HotD and Greek mythology, so there will be incest. Author’s Note: Thank you @aspen-carter for being my beta reader! She has been such an influence on my writing and I owe so much to her! Make sure to check out her stories. Artwork source. ♥ Also! Gō vys is Valyrian for Under world, lēkia is brother, mandia is sister and kirimvose is thank you. Enjoy! Tags (Tumblr kindred spirits): @aaaaaamond @sirenofavalon @annikin-im-panicin @watercolorskyy @schniiipsel @aemondx @fan-goddess @babygirlyofthevale @hb8301 @iiamthehybrid @deltamoon666 @dahlias-and-marigolds @nina2697 @fantasticpeaceharmony @silverwinged @melsunshine @remus853 (bold means Tumblr has forsaken me and I could not tag you) Series: Act I - Act II - Act III

Mother you don't understand; I made Hades run to me. He saw my bones beneath And offered me half his kingdom. Do you really think I ate the fruit unwillingly? by a.davida jane

ACT III

It could be considered that immortality was both a blessing and a curse to the gods, for it allowed a leniency with their beingness which meant moments, their intimacy and their importance, would be muffled insignificance within their eternal stretch of existence.

Despite the structure built beneath, Aemond inevitably found himself lost with the monotony of death and the mediocre ache that accompanied it. This is why he allowed himself the annual endeavor of resurfacing and enjoying spring, solely for the reminder of the genesis of life and its beauty, a reminder of its importance. He cherished these moments, but its elation was fleeting and only coaxed him through the upcoming year.

But on this night, on the mountainside beneath the heavens and the fiery comets that streaked above, this moment began to etch itself in intricate detailing within the mind of the king of the Underworld. This moment would be treasured, something he would cradle to his chest, next to the pinned snapdragon, as it would be a memory that was now forever embedded into his very essence.

It began with the softness of her lips that felt so sinful, so right against his own, and the tentative touch of her tongue along the bottom of his lip. He hummed his pleasure and dared to indulge, moving his hand to gently take hold of the back of her neck, his fingers threading into her curls. She sighed sweetly and he deepened their kiss, with the languid motion of his tongue that allowed him to savor the taste of her mouth.

Their kiss was unhurried, tender, and he took care to match with her rhythm, allowing her to explore at her own pace.

Her hands fluttered to rest onto his chest and his skin rose from the warmth of her palms, her touch seemingly cementing him to the mountain. There was a tingling sensation of electricity in the tips of her fingers and he felt it pulsate throughout his being.

The intrusive thought flooded his mind, as he realized he could not recall the last time he had ever…

Kore was almost tactful with her touch, gentle with him in a way that was unfamiliar, but welcomed. She was careful to shift her weight and press against him, until he laid back onto the silver grass. She leaned forward and paused, looking at him with her smile aglow on her kiss-swollen lips.

Aemond awed at her beauty, how her dark curls spilled forward with their subtle floral scent and how it lingered with her every touch, the reminder of the first day of spring. His eye drank the flush of pink at the tip of her nose and how it dusted her cheeks, and the soft rise and fall of her chest with her every breath. She leaned closer, her smile so sweet, and he felt the tickle of her tresses that spilled onto his chest, the enticing curl of her rose lips.

And he faltered to the roared echo of his sister’s voice.

Do not damn her.

She saw his hesitation and withdrew, her expression sending a surge of torment through him. “Kore,” his tongue wet his lips, a nervous tick of the god of death. “I feel compelled to say that this is not owed to me. Please, I…” he gave a vague gesture towards the heavens and at this moment, it was as if the moon and the stars had blown out. “I wanted to do this for you.”

I needed to do this for you.

Her brow quirked with the slight tilt of her head, processing his words. “Aemond,” and how she spoke his name would also be carried alongside that memory of their kiss. “I am not sure what you mean. I…” the rose color that flushed her cheekbones burned crimson when she confessed, “I want this.”

I want you, she did not say.

He was aware of how her ichor thrummed with renewed vigor in his presence, how she was a golden beacon that called to him. His eye trailed the curves of her porcelain skin that peaked beneath her peplos, her nipples peaked beneath the thin folds at her chest and how the flush of her skin dipped between the valley of her breasts.

Aemond could feel her eyes watchful of him, her expression curious but she remained quiet. He appreciated the silence, for anything spoken by her would shatter his resolve; he found there was comfort with their quiet and he was able to gather his words.

He confessed to her the true cause of Baela and Rhaena’s sudden demise, explaining the cursed flower that had been placed by Aegon.

The shadow of her sorrow flickered across her features, but it came and went like a mortal heartbeat; when he finished, she looked at him. “But why would he do this?”

Because he knew all too well my complacency to just admire you from the shadows. “I promise to tell you one day,” he began, only then daring to meet with her somber gaze. “Please understand that mortal lives are expendable to him.”

“Did you ask it of him?”

Aemond knew he would not lie to her, but felt relief at her question, “I would never do that to you.”

She shifted, with her arms placed behind her and her palms against the earth, allowing her chest to arch as she looked up towards the night sky; her eyes followed the dust trail that her friends streaked amongst the stars that returned.

“I would not hold you accountable for the actions of your brother,” her voice was soft and her stare remained above. “I know there is more you wish to tell me, so I wish to know, what is it that you want, Aïdōneús?”

He felt as if his seams began to split with the struggle to contain his desire. You, little goddess. Persephone, the goddess of spring and the goddess of nature. To him, she was intimately Kore. Irrevocably, unquestionably, he would forever await her beckon call as he only wanted to be placed at her side as long as eternity allowed.

But instead, he only said, “I want you to return home, to sleep well and truly understand what a life in the Gō vys would be.” She turned her head to face him and he hummed a beat. “If you desire it, then return to me and I swear that my kingdom is yours,” a curl to his lips as he finished, “that I am yours.”

He saw her fire, unbridled beneath her skin, but also saw how she swallowed it down to restrain it. Kore looked down to her lap, managing a curt nod before she pulled herself to her feet. “If this is what you ask of me, if this is what I must do to show you how I…” her words faltered, her jaw steeled, and he saw determination burn in her eyes when she offered her hand to help him to his feet. “I will do what you ask, Aemond.”

He stood up and she pressed close to him; Aemond wrapped his arms around her waist and there was comfort in the embrace, hope. They returned, wordless, to the edge and he was careful to set her down.

As he pulled away, Kore caught his wrist and he looked at her, watching as she lifted his hand and pressed her lips against his open palm. “Aemond, I will come back to you,” she promised.

That kiss rooted him to the earth and he remained there, admiring the grace of her motion as she left him, leaving behind the lingering floral fragrance and the glimmer of hope.

+ + + + + + +

The hour was uncertain, but Kore saw that the moon began its descent into the curvature of the horizon, though the sun had not begun to crest in response. She flitted across the silver fields, her footfalls soft against the cool earth, but with enough pressure for the blossom of blood-red peonies to sprout beneath her every step. Her kiss-swollen lips pressed together with the taste of him, a melody hummed that was inspired with the emotion that was swelling within her chest.

“You seem pleased, Kore.”

She halted her motion to see Jacaerys leaning against a tree, his arms folded in front of him and a small smile to his lips. Her mussed curls fell and rested on her shoulders and she swore she saw a glint of something hidden behind his dark eyes. “Mother wishes to see you,” he continued. “Now.”

She followed him to the horticulture their mother crafted, where she groomed life during the winter months. It was her mortal endeavor, the glass casing bewitched to be able to hold the golden glow of sunlight throughout the night.

Her brother stopped at its golden archway, holding his arm to almost present its entrance and she moved past him, towards where Rhaenyra was working. She saw her mother hunched over a clay pot, her silver hair braided back and her focus on the seedlings, packing fresh soil within.

Rhaenyra paused as she heard her daughter approach and there was an unease that swelled around, the heat before a storm.

You smell of death.

Her mother’s words were accusatory and malicious, and Kore, impassioned from the night, returned her fury. Their rage spilled and their words clashed violently, hurtled with intent. Rhaenyra was heartsore, angry, and unable to comprehend this infatuation that her daughter continued to kindle for the god of death.

“You will wilt without the sun,” her mother cried. “Why would you do this to me?”

Kore choked on those words; she felt her heart break, shattering within and how the shards began to dig into her chest, her breath aching with her exhale. She prayed for reason to be found and dared to confess to her.

“Mother, I love him.”

She spoke the words as if it was a simple truth, her factual tone spilled as though it was always this way and would always be.

Rhaenyra was quiet and the unease from earlier returned to accompany the sickly silence between them. She watched her daughter and how she glowed with her bold proclamation, unaware of the repercussion that her words would have.

In the darkness of her daughter’s eyes, beneath the passion that brimmed them, Rhaenyra had a thought, a memory recovered; it was something dear that she cradled to her chest.

She remembered these eyes from before, how they belonged to Harwin and in this moment, she saw him looking at her once again. Rhaenyra recalled his embolden gait and gaze, how he had approached her one spring with an eagerness with his every step as he followed her. She had refused him, at first, for fear of how Daomon would react.

Harwin was both stubborn and determined; he declared he would face any challenge, that his world had been shrouded in darkness whenever he left her side and that he only truly could enjoy spring as color returned with her.

Rhaenyra remembered his large palms when they took her hand, calloused but gentle with his touch, and how held her palm to his chest as if it was the most precious thing. She had been careful to tuck away these memories, as their recovery also brought the cumbersome grief and pain knowing it was her love that had killed him.

She knew their love was damned and she did not want this same fate for her daughter.

Rhaenyra only then realized her daughter peering at her, as if she was trying to hear her thoughts. She saw that Kore was still burning with the conviction of her words and she knew that she would never recant, for it was Harwin’s stubbornness and determination that intertwined with the very ichor weaving within her veins.

At that moment, Rhaenyra knew what must be done.

The vines began to sprout from the ground, knocking over the clay pots and wrapping itself around her legs and arms. Falling to her knees, Kore cried out and saw her mother’s intention to leave her; a ferocity began to burn within, a fire to her dark eyes and she began to tear away at the green iron hold. With each one broken, two more came forward, staggering her steps forward as they coiled around her legs to halt her.

Rhaenyra could not watch her relentless struggle or listen to her daughter’s screams. She walked to the golden archways and whispered to seal it.

She, after all, truly knew what was best for her daughter.

+ + + + + + +

Helaena was the queen of the gods, with a harmonious understanding with the sky and the stars above, a soral bond that gifted her a multiscient ability that allowed her to thrive with her role as the goddess of matrimony; she had an ability that both the mortals and the gods envied, which was her insight on what the future held.

Yet, she did not gloat about this ability and only her brothers and sister were aware of her peculiar gift. This had been after the Titanomachy ended, how the cosmos seemed broken and Aegon’s insatiable want for control came to fruition. When he learned this of Helaena, he declared his love for her, but she was aware of his self-serving ambition and how he only wished to control her power.

She also knew it was a power that came of its own volition, as well if she accepted his proposal and became queen of the cosmos, her role would best serve the realm with the puissance crowned upon her head.

Helaena accepted and allowed her husband his freedoms, for the distasteful whispers which sung of his infidelities did not bother her, as her attention was needed elsewhere.

The Moirai were intrigued by the queen. Before the war, they long grew bored of the insistent desperation and prying questions of the future, choosing to recluse themselves to the shadows of the Gō vys. They shed their physical form and became a fog that would roll over the realms when it served them, able to pour in and fit where it was needed, this sense of touch allowed them to see much more than the eyes they once had.

It allowed them to be unnoticed, but Helaena was always aware of them, however they did not mind the company of the queen, solely because they understood that she also wished to be unseen, unbothered. The king of the Underworld allowed her free rein to come and go, which allowed her to slip away to visit with Vhagar, to have a moment alone to remove her crown and a moment alone to find the clairvoyance she needed before she returned above.

Here, she was able to see things with clarity, with an understanding that not even the Moirair would dare question.

They would often speak, she would ask them questions and they would chide in return on how fate was fickle. Helaena disagreed, for her visions were resounding, nestling into her consciousness and replay until they would come to pass.

The queen had one particular vision that lingered in the back of her mind; it showed her dear brother, Aemond, and a queenly presence, devoted, at his side. Together, they were destined to share a happiness that would stretch into eternity, with a love destined, fated to remain even after men would long forget them all.

This vision, like all, was a hint at first, but it grew with its details, becoming vivid and consuming with the start of the most recent spring season. On this morning, when Helaena awoke, she found her mind was empty; there was no replay or even an echo of the apparition that was a consistent comfort in the last few years.

Helaena dressed and left, descending into the shadow, in search of the fog.

Vhagar greeted her, as they often did, and she paused to take a moment and pet each head with care. They traveled together, with Vhagar as her escort, and they went deep until the fog rolled in, swirling around and engulfing them.

She could hear their whispered words. Today you come with a question only.

“I do,” she admitted out loud. “I wish to understand why the vision of Aïdōneús has left me.”

Fate is fickle… it began, but she stopped them.

“I know your mantra,” and her eyes began to water, not from emotion but from the thickening haze that washed over her. “And you are aware that I see things differently, consistently, and this gift allows me a deep understanding of compatibility. But today, I awoke and it was gone and now I come to understand why.”

It is gone because something hides the golden glow.

She sighed her annoyance, as they would not give more than their ominous echo; she waved her hands to push through the fog and their chuckle that echoed around. Helaena returned to the castle that loomed in the center, with Vhagar padding softly behind, still watchful.

Inside the throne room, she felt the sickening sorrow, a somber aura that matched the dark stones of the castle walls. She saw the arched windows that led to the terrace, allowing the artificial lighting to seep into the room. Helaena found her brother, his lean frame stooped and rested against the ornate balustrade, his gaze looking out; his witch remained at his side, her own worry for her king etched into her expression.

“Lēkia,” she called to him.

Aemond pushed himself upright, turning to face her with the ghost of a smile on his sharp features. “Helaena,” there was a hint of relief with how he spoke her name, an almost desperation to see her in this moment. “Have you come to visit the Moirai?”

“I already have and they are unhelpful, as always,” she smiled, watching as Vhagar moved past her and nudged his palm with one of its heads.

Aemond was devoted to pet each with care, with a smile that did not reach his eye. Her brow furrowed and her question perched beneath her chin.

What has happened?

But instead, her eyes spotted the snapdragon fastened to him, the glittering glow that emitted from the bewitched petals. She saw it and she knew its magic. “That is lovely,” and she gestured to her chest to mirror where he had it pinned.

Aemond seemed to wilt at the reminder, his gaze looked down and his slender finger touched it as if it was the most precious thing within his possession. “It was a gift,” his voice rasped and it took strength for him to meet again with her lilac eyes.

“Who gifted this to you?”

Aemond and his stoicism was something he propped as a shield, but their years together allowed her an awareness of his mannerisms and she was able to see the flicker of pain that danced across his features, the subtle bob of his neck when he managed to answer her. “It was Persephone.”

Helaena looked to Alys and the same recognition played across her own face, washing away the concern. “It is very lovely,” she offered and she looked at the witch, her lips pursed into a thin line, before she excused herself abruptly; she ran the shores of the Styx, following the pathway that curled upwards to the mortal realm.

There was a certainty to her visions and she now knew that Aemond was fated for a great love; she knew where it began and her mind was able to recall and replay it within, her purposeful steps that brought her towards Rhaenyra’s gardens, towards the glow of the horticulture centered. She knew if she could find Rhaenyra, she could beg an audience with Persephone, to get clarification as to what had happened…

Rhaenyra was nowhere to be found and instead she spotted the goddess of spring; her earthly glow was replaced with a fire, an anger that thrummed beneath her alabaster skin. Her eyes held a determination, a darkness with her stare, but they brightened when she spotted the queen.

Helaena stopped and her lilac eyes flitted over the structure, sizing the binding spell and understanding the power propelled a shield.

She now understood the words of the Moirai. It is gone because something hides the golden glow.

The goddess of spring watched her, standing in front of one of the glass panes and Helaena could see the beginning cracks that splintered. She smiled at her, now understanding what her brother saw, the undeniable strength that brimmed beneath Persephone.

The queen moved forward and the goddess mirrored her movement, her lips moving but she was muted in her gilded cage.

Helaena pressed a finger to her lips and then touched her ear; Persephone stopped and watched as her lilac eyes traced the edges of the pane before she brought her palms together, a soft whisper and a glow that emitted from between. She then pressed her hands against the glass and Persephone, again, mirrored the action, resting her palms on the other side, closing her eyes to focus.

The queen of the gods marveled at the strength, the vibration from the little goddess; it pulsated through and the light brightened and seeped into the cracks, spreading throughout the glass. She held her breath and watched the shards break apart, turning into petals and falling softly on the ground around them.

The goddess of spring opened her eyes, free. Her dark curls were wild and the darkness lifted from her eyes when she smiled. “Kirimvose.”

Helaena folded her hands in front, returning the smile. “He is waiting for you.”

She glowed with her words and moved, gone in an instant. The vision returned, a welcomed warmth that flowed through her, and Helaena was able to see Aemond, with the peace he long sought for, that he had fought for, and the queenly presence, devoted at his side.

+ + + + + + +

Aemond had returned before dusk even hinted at the day’s end. He remained in the shadows, accompanied with the eagerness that vibrated within, but the emotion was tucked beneath his aristocratic demure. He waited and watched as the sun dipped away and was replaced by the moon, as full as the night before, returning with its silver light. He waited as the world rotated, replaying the echo of her sweet words.

Aemond, I will come back to you.

But she did not come.

Instead, he saw his sister and with her was his answer, apparent in her eyes before she spoke a word; he saw the pity that framed her eyes and it made his skin crawl.

“I’m sorry, lēkia,” and he felt her genuine remorse. “She said it was too painful to see you again.” Rhaenyra could not meet with his steady gaze. “You must understand this, right? That this is how it was meant to be?”

He felt a resounding sadness that was suffocating, a grief that bore into him and ached his bones, his every fiber that was required for him to exist within the cosmos. His stoicism remained and he hummed his understanding, the nod of his head that weighed heavily on his broad shoulders. “I understand, mandia,” he managed to say and he made the silent vow that he would never again resurface. “I only wish the best for her. Truly.”

She dared meet with his sapphire stone and lavender eye; there was an emotion he saw play behind her eyes, but Rhaenyra remained quiet, her lips pressed into a thin line and she turned away from him. Aemond watched as she returned to her gardens before he retreated to the Underworld, greeted with the cold embrace of the darkness that engulfed the realm below.

His kingdom was deathly quiet, as the dead did not converse and the screams of his grandsire were muffled within his hold of Tartarus. His gleam of felicity had been ripped away and he felt raw, a dulled ache within his chest and its constant threat to fracture through his bones.

Aemond returned his attention to the repetitive work his realm required, unwilling to break away and allow a lull for the grief to return, as it simmered beneath.

He would hear the concerned whine of Vhagar and Alys would visit, her soft words spilling from her painted lips. “My king, I beg you, please eat.”

These days seem to mold together, without differentiation, without significance. Often, he would be perched out on the terrace that stemmed from the throne room, his gaze watchful but empty. Sometimes Alys would join him, his quiet companion other than her request for him to eat or to drink. On this day, she perked when she saw the streak of gold from his sister as she slipped away within his kingdom, a privilege he only allowed to her.

Eventually, she arrived to greet him, as she often would; Aemond loved his sister dearly, but found himself too heartsore to offer much. He noticed an exchanged look between Alys and Helaena, but they parted without a word and the witch goddess then focused on him.

“I was unaware that Kore gifted you the snapdragon.” Her voice was sharp, clarifying.

The bewitched flower remained dutifully pinned, with the red glow of its petals as his only reminder that what he had felt had been real, that it had not just been a dream. “She did,” he replied and he looked down at it.

“My king,” and Alys smiled, genuinely for the first time in a while. “Your grief blinds you more than your gemmed eye.”

There was a flicker of annoyance that played across his face and she continued on, not allowing him to speak. “That is a spell and its blossom is bound by love.”

His brow furrowed and he brought his gaze from the petals to focus on Alys, whose expression was as gleeful as the words she spoke. “My king, she loves you. I know this, as did your sister when she saw it. Kore loves you and it has been under your nose this whole damn time.”

“You lie,” he hissed. “I was told she did not even wish to see me-”

“Was this from her lips?” She challenged him, squaring to face her king with a fearlessness to correct him, as always. “Persephone told you she did not love you?” Alys moved closer, one finger touching the snapdragon and it sparked, a crimson glimmer in the muted throne room. “I know this spell, Aïdōneús. She loves you as much as you love her!”

The grief that interlaced throughout his being seemed to unleash with her words, the torrid of the moments shared poured over him with a renewed ardor. He could not ignore it, this emotion was a curse that had its hold of him still. “Then where is she?”

As he spoke, he already knew the answer. The emotion he had been unable to pin in the moment of his shattering grief, the one that played in his sister’s lavender eyes.

Guilt.

Aïdōneús was the god of death, the king of the Underworld. His ichor thrummed with bloodlust, a strength he channeled when he ended the Titanomachy with a ferocity that was unseen before or since. With his realization, the silver of his hair, the white tones of his skin glowed as he swelled with a black flame that framed his movements; Alys placed his crown on top of his head, iron and ruby glowing, and he tore from the Gō vys.

When he surfaced, it splintered the edge and the nymphs cried and scampered away from the gods’ wrath. His fury brought him to his sister’s gardens and the greenery wilted from his rage. “Rhaenyra,” his low baritone growled from his chest.

He noticed how Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey were watchful, perhaps unaware of their mother’s treachery, but unwilling to allow Aemond to kill her, as he looked capable of at this moment. But he did not wish to slay his sister, he wished to find Kore and bring her back, as she had promised him, as she wanted.

And he should have never doubted that.

Rhaenyra appeared, her eyes red rimmed and she scoffed at the swell of her brother. “You are too late,” her voice broke. “She is gone.”

“Skoriot gōntan ziry jikagon?”

Where did she go?

She looked at him, her jaw tight when she said, “I believe you already know, lēkia.”

He was gone from the mortal realm, slipping beneath. He looked at the grey shores and recognized the silhouette of her footfalls that lead forward, with the petals of peonies that trailed her steps.

Aemond followed, his emotions ravaged him raw and he thought of how he failed her, that he believed that she would not show and he swore he would spend their eternity to make amends…

He continued to the Asphodel fields and he saw her golden glow, complemented with hues of pink that touched her porcelain complexion. She was sitting beneath the tree with one of Vhagar’s heads resting on her lap and her hand petting. The ears twitched and Vhagar pulled away to trot towards Aemond; her dark curls spilled when she turned to see what caught their attention.

It was as if Kore blossomed at the sight of him, the flush of pink spread across her cheekbones with her smile. “Aemond,” she sighed, pushing to stand and face him.

He wished to run to her, to wrap his arms around her with the solemn vow that he would never let her go; he ached to taste her lips, to shower her with affection and beg for her forgiveness.

It was all reserved beneath and instead his arms crossed behind his back. “Little goddess, I had gone to rescue you.”

She hummed at the pet name and her eyes glittered.

“I arrived and learned you were already gone,” he finished, his expression almost sheepish with the confession. His gaze met with hers, “I had thought you would not return.”

“I promised you that I would.”

Her tone did not scorn him, but she said it factual and he felt the returned burn of his disappointment that he had ever doubted she would. “Kore,” he took a tentative step towards her, drawn to her golden glow, a need to feel the silk of her skin once more.

She remained stance beneath the tree, her smile reaching her eyes. “I did as you asked of me and I had time to make my decision,” and she reached above to pluck a pomegranate from a branch. He watched her hands palm it between and how her fingernails broke its skin. Her fingers scooped the seeds and he watched her bring them to her mouth, red lines of its juices that dribbled down her chin. “I do not wish for anyone to try and keep me from you again.”

It was another moment that etched within his mind, the sight of his queen and the red juice that stained her chin and her smile, the same smile that allowed a glimpse of spring within the Gō vys.

She then closed the space between them and he tilted his head to meet her lips with his own, savoring the bittersweet kiss.

#she walks in starlight #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x ofc #aemond targaryen x oc #greek mythology hotd au #aemond!hades #aemond!hades x oc!persephone #slow burn #hotd fanfic #hotd fanfiction #aemond fanfic #aemond fanfiction #it's an ever after ending

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maidragoste · 2 months ago

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The Parent Trap: Chapter Three

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Summary: After the disastrous divorce between Aemond Targaryen and Y/n Velaryon the twins Baelon and Aemon were separated. Each was raised by one of their parents. Baelon was raised by his father while Aemon was raised by his mother. Years later they both meet at a summer camp and discover the existence of the other. The twins realize that there are many secrets in their family, eager to discover their past, they put together a plan to deceive their parents.

Masterlist

Hi guys, sorry for taking so long to update, I swear I didn't think it would take me so long to finish writing it 🥺🥺 I still hope you like it. As I always say, likes, comments and reblogs are very appreciated because they motivate me to keep writing 💖💖

My inbox is also open if you want to share your thoughts 🥰

Anyway, I hope you have a good read

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Ten years ago

“You look beautiful,” your father Joffrey said with glassy eyes and hugging you by the shoulders, both of you looking at your reflection in the mirror. It wasn’t the first time he saw you in your wedding dress. In fact, he went with you to buy it along with your other father, your grandmother, your cousins and your godmother. But he always got emotional every time he saw you in your white dress.

You'd like to say you felt beautiful but you couldn't stop staring at your stomach. A month ago when you got the dress it wasn't so tight to your skin. Your pregnancy wasn't obvious. Now you couldn't help but think that everyone would think this was a shotgun wedding, that you were only getting married for the baby when it wasn't just about that. Aemond had asked you to marry him because he loves you not because you were pregnant.

“You can still turn back.”

Your father's words made your heart sink. You knew that even though he and your grandmother Rhaenys had been by your side throughout the wedding preparations, they didn't agree with you getting married, you assumed it was because they thought you were too young but the strange thing was that neither of them seemed upset about the baby. You feared that the reason for their annoyance was that you were marrying Aemond but it didn't make sense, he's been your boyfriend for years and they never seemed to hate him.

Joffrey felt your body tense. He knew that if Laenor knew about this conversation he would be furious with him and they would end up having a huge argument. He knew he shouldn’t distress you on this day but he needed to let you know that you didn’t have to go through with this wedding just because of a social mandate or because you thought it was the right thing to do, that you didn’t have to settle for Aemond just because he’s the father of your baby. He couldn’t live with himself if he let you make such an important decision without having this conversation first. He would be failing you as a father.

“I just want to say that we are not in medieval times, you can have his son but there is no need to marry him” he reminded you, turning you around so that you were facing each other.

“I know, Dad,” you murmured, clenching your hands into fists, and digging your nails into your palms. You prefer that to end up wrinkling your dress. “I love Aemond and he loves me. Don’t worry, he’ll take care of me.”

“Of course, just like he took care of you this month,” he said with obvious sarcasm.

He still didn't understand how you had forgiven Aemond for not accompanying you to your first ultrasound, nor how you could continue with the wedding after seeing that the groom would not help you plan it. He and Laenor were the ones who stood by your side and held your hands while you looked at your baby for the first time. They, along with your grandparents, your cousins, and your friends, were the ones who helped you plan the wedding. They had to intervene when they saw how you seemed on the verge of having a nervous breakdown. You shouldn't be stressed in your state, Aemond should never have entrusted you with the task of organizing a wedding at the last minute while he continued with his project of opening his own publishing house. So Joffrey had reason to doubt that he would be able to take care of you and treat you as you deserve.

“Dad, please stop.” The annoyance was evident in your voice.

“I just don't want you to make a mistake.” In a few years, you will remember this conversation and the frustration on your dad's face as a warning sign that he was right. “I think there’s someone better than Aemond for you.”

“Who?!” you asked, losing your patience. This was supposed to be your big day, you shouldn’t be having this conversation. “Please tell me that you and Dad have already moved on from the idea of pairing me up with Jacaerys.”

When you and Jaceerys were little, Rhaenyra and your parents used to say that you two would be together when you grew up. Hearing so many times that you two would be a good couple, seeing how your friends started dating and the mix of hormones in adolescence, you and Jace decided to give it a chance during high school but you were only together for a few months before realizing that you two didn't see each other in a romantic way. When you broke up, your parents tried not to show disappointment. But years had passed since then and you wanted to believe that your parents had already accepted that you and Jace were just friends.

"I'm not talking about Jacaerys, I'm talking about…"

Your father fell silent as he watched the door open and Aegon enter. He watched intently as he seemed to freeze in the doorway, staring at you in wonder and when you turned to see him and your eyes connected, Joffrey was sure that for a moment Aegon lost his breath.

"Is everything okay Aegon?" you asked, causing him to regain his composure.

"Yes, I'm sorry, am I interrupting? I may go," he said, stumbling over the words, drawing even more of your attention.

A part of you wanted to end the conversation with your dad but you also wanted to know what was going on with your friend. In the end, you didn’t even have to make the decision because your dad made it for you, he said goodbye saying he would go check on everything with the organization, and gave Aegon a squeeze on the shoulder. Years later you’ll wonder if your dad was talking about Aegon and that’s why he left you two alone thinking that maybe you’ll magically change your mind or maybe your dad just left because he didn’t want to argue with you anymore. You’d never know.

You walked away from the mirror to sit on the armchair in the room and Aegon was quick to sit next to you.

"So?" you said, looking at him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to start talking.

“My father,” at the mention of Viserys, your mouth turned into a straight line, knowing that you probably wouldn’t like what Aegon said next. “Apparently there’s a family tradition where before the wedding the groom and his entire family drink a special whiskey. He insisted that I do too.” Aegon laughed as he heard you curse his father. “I didn’t feel comfortable being there.” He sighed and looked down at his shoes, feeling embarrassed for coming to bother you with this. “I’m sorry for coming to bother you, you must be nervous and I’ve got my shit. I should go” he stood up and barely took a step when you took his hand and pulled him back to sit down.

“Your father is an idiot but we already know that,” you said and you saw how your friend’s lips stretched into a smile but he was still downcast. “You are not a bother, Aegon” you declared squeezing his hand. “In fact, I am proud of you” You saw how he suddenly raised his face to look at you. “Yes, I am proud” you repeated wanting your words to stay in his head. “You could have easily accepted the drink but you didn’t and you walked away from that situation. You should be proud of yourself too” You smiled and warmed Aegon’s heart.

“Aemond is so lucky to marry you,” the words fell from Aegon’s lips without thinking and he felt himself panicking. The last thing he wanted was for you to find out about his feelings at your wedding. No, that would only make things awkward and the last thing he wanted was to lose your friendship and ruin his relationship with his brother.

“Oh shut up” you laughed as you let go of Aegon’s hand and gave him a friendly push as you felt heat all over your face. “Don’t be too exaggerated, any good friend would tell you the same thing as me” you said not realizing that your words stopped Aegon’s panic but in turn made his heart ache. It shouldn’t hurt him that you referred to him as your friend, he was more than grateful to be one but he would be lying if he said he wouldn’t like to be in Aemond’s place. He would like to be the one waiting for you at the altar but that would never happen.

Present day

“Come on, you have to admit that something is wrong with him,” Aemon said kicking a branch as he walked.

Aemon and Rickon took advantage of Baelon going to bathe to leave the cabin and walk around the forest for a while. Rickon could see that Aemon needed to calm down before returning with Baelon.

The blond kid turned around when he saw that his friend remained silent. “Don’t tell me that you like him”

“Oh, Aemon, don’t be jealous, I like you more” Rickon mocked, lightly pushing his body against Aemon’s before continuing to walk. “Just stop acting like that, your mom wouldn’t like you talking badly about your brother”

At the mention of his mother, Aemon felt guilty but also upset. Rickon was right, his mother had raised him to be kind and she would be disappointed if she saw how he ignored Baelon's excited questions about you, about him and the rest of his family. But you lied to him too. All this time he had a brother and you never told him.

“It just irritates me that he's taking it like it's the best thing that ever happened to him. Our parents lied to us,” he said, tugging at the sleeves of his shirt in stress.

“I think he’s just excited to know he has more family,” the brown-haired boy replied with a shrug. “You should try to get to know him. "Besides, now that you have a twin, I'm sure we can make great pranks if you cut your hair." By the sparkle in Rickon's eyes, Aemon could already tell that he had several ideas.

“I won’t cut my hair.”

“You’re boring,” he sighed in disappointment. “But seriously, aren’t you curious about his life? About what your biological dad is like?”

Aemon would be lying if he said he didn’t care to know more about his dad. You always told him random things, he was sure that any information Baelon gave him about his dad would be interesting. But the truth is what worries him the most is to know if his dad Aegon and his biological dad are brothers. Baelon said that his last name was Targaryen so that has to be his dad’s last name, because his mother’s last name is Velaryon, and Aegon’s last name is also Targaryen so they must be related because Targaryen is not a common last name.

His dad also lied to him, if he had known him since he was born then he also knew Baelon. Aemon wanted to cry.

“You should go back to the cabin,” said Aemon trying to ignore the lump in his throat but his voice betrayed him by breaking.

Rickon stopped walking and studied Aemon for a moment, who looked away embarrassed. “If you want I can give you a hug while you cry,” he said, opening his arms as if he knew the answer. And he was right because the other boy was quick to go and hug him. They stayed there until Aemon stopped crying.

When they returned to the cabin, Baelon was smart enough not to say anything about Aemon’s sore eyes and instead offered them Oreos.

“You don't have any peanut butter by any chance?” Aemon asked as he sat on his twin's bed.

“I don’t think so, he doesn’t seem to have the same ugly palate as you” Rickon scoffed but ate his words as Baelon pulled out the Oreos along with a jar of peanut butter from his suitcase.

“It’s a good combination,” Baelon said with a shrug and handed them each a pack before placing the jar in the middle and sitting back down. “Does mom like it too?”

“No, she doesn’t” Aemon replied. “By the way, I’m sorry I ignored your other questions earlier” he apologized and Rickon nodded approvingly at his behavior.

“It’s okay,” Baelon just waved his hand dismissively. “So how did you discover this combination? Because a lot of people think this is weird,” he asked before eating a cookie.

“Because it is,” Rickon muttered, and the twins pretended not to hear him.

“My dad made me try it,” Aemon replied without taking his eyes off the jar, as if the task of dipping his cookie in butter was something that required a lot of concentration.

Baelon looked at his twin in confusion and finished chewing. “I thought you said you’d never met our dad. Besides, Dad doesn’t like it either, in fact, he hates that my uncle Aegon made me try this.”

Aemon took a deep breath as if gathering courage before speaking. “Mom is dating someone and I think it’s your Uncle Aegon. My Dad,” he said quickly before popping a cookie into his mouth. Baelon looked at him as if he had suddenly grown another head. “Or my stepfather if you want to call him that.” The word felt strange on Aemon’s tongue. He wasn’t used to calling Aegon that.

“Do you have a picture of your uncle?” Rickon asked, stepping in to give Aemon more time to calm down.

Baelon looked at the duo of friends for a moment but realizing that neither seemed willing to say anything until they had the picture, he opened his drawer and pulled out several pictures. When they were gone, he took the opportunity to finish unpacking.

“This is Uncle Aegon,” he said, showing him the photo the whole family had taken during his grandmother’s last birthday and pointing to his dad’s older brother, who was standing next to his Uncle Daeron making horns with his fingers behind his head. “This is Uncle Daeron and the one next to him is Aunt Helaena. Then there’s our grandmother and well, our dad.”

“I didn’t know he had siblings,” Aemon said, looking closely at the photo. They all looked happy in a big hug and smiling. Why then did his dad never tell him about his siblings? He didn’t even expect him to tell him that his biological dad’s brother was, but at least he could have shared with him about his other siblings.

“So our mom is really dating Uncle Aegon?” Baelon asked, noticing that Aemon didn’t seem surprised to see Aegon in the photo, but rather to see the rest of the family.

“Honestly, I wouldn’t call it dating,” Rickon opined, earning a dirty look from his friend. Not because Aemon disagreed with him, but because he still didn’t know how to tell Baelon about Joffrey and that Mom was getting married soon. Maybe he was just worrying for nothing, if Baelon acted excited to meet him then he would surely like the idea of having another brother too.

“He and Mom are getting married,” Aemon said, and if he hadn’t gotten up to find his own pictures to show him, then he wouldn’t have missed the grimace on Baelon’s face." We also have a brother, his name is Joffrey,” he said now giving him his notebook with photos again.

But Baelon didn't seem excited. In fact, he barely glanced at the pictures before handing the notebook back to him.

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allyriadayne · 2 years ago

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Hi I saw you also love Aegon (TGC charm is definitely working there not gonna lie) but there is also other reason for my sympathy for him; you know even though writers did everything to make people hate Aegon and root for Rhaenyra this didn't work with me and I am just dying to have a talk about him. I have been thinking about him after being literally barbequed by Meleys. Alicent reaction to seeing him in such terrible state. In book it was said Helaena never visited Aegon while he was lying in bed with maesters surrounding him and Aemond being a regent but after episode 10 I am sure Alicent will spend most of her time in his room. Just imagine Aegon waking up, seeing her, telling her 'mother I did what was expected of me (what Alicent expected of him) and fought Meleys and Rhaenys and they are now dead, I have suffered great wounds because of it, are you proud of me mother?' I am in tears, their dynamics is so precious to me, I know many people say Aemond and in future Daeron will be her favourites, but her relationship with Aegon is one of a kind and I think every eldest child can relate to it in some way. Aegon's shoulders carrying his mother's expectations, doing everything she has asked to, knowing it would never be enough, it never evoke such praise as with Aemond, but doing it over and over hoping this time mother will appreciate his trying, that she would know how hard he tried for her and will acknowledge his doings, will tell him that she is proud.

And then I think of him returning to King's Landing after Sunfyre killed Rhaenyra. He is her firstborn and yet he would be the last one because the rest of her children would be dead at this point. I think Aegon before his death will realise that the only one who was there for him, would fight for him, even challenge Rhaenyra ascending the Iron Throne and putting whole 6 kingdoms at the verge of war (so also going against she said to Rhaenyra, going against upholding the kingdom) was Alicent.

Tom saying Aegon thinks his family hates him and just imagine after his return to King's Landing he is informed his brothers died fighting for him, that his mother suffered a lot as prisoner for him and only then he would realise how much they loved him, what things they did so he could still wear the crown and win against Rhaenyra and blacks. Going from thinking your family hates you, then seeing them dying for you, facing cruel treatment as prisoner, to having a clear proof they cared for you all along and now most of them are gone and the only one left by his side (because there is no other place she would have been) is his mother. Sometimes I think it was always Aegon and Alicent against the whole world. How am I not supposed to be emotional about all of this?

Hi!! thank you so much for sharing your thoughts with me :) I agree with you there, aegon and alicent have such an unique dynamic that i myself can't help but being drawn to it too. he's her firstborn and therefore all her hopes and expectations rest on him even if he doesn't want them at all, or that she can't seem to like him (he's a sexual predator and alicent sees herself in his victims). to crown aegon means she will have reached her (her father's) end goal so she must push through it, make aegon fit to be king no matter that.

oh yeah, the positive reaction he received when he was being crowned will definitely play into their relationship because he'd want to maintain it and please alicent at the same time. though he's selfish and entitled, that he wants to please alicent in this way doesn't mean he's /only/ doing it for her, he's doing it for him too because being king affords him much more power than he has as a prince, over his family, alicent, the whole kingdom. as you say, it will be delicious when it's alicent who stays with him after fighting rhaenys and meleys. i think for him it will be a more concrete way to understand she does care for him.

and yes, at the end, canonically (!) aegon is thinking a lot about his family and what they did for him, he did commission those giant statues of aemond and daeron lmao. "Sometimes I think it was always Aegon and Alicent against the whole world. How am I not supposed to be emotional about all of this?" soo true, aemond is in the riverlands, helaena dies (rip), daeron is too far, they are effectively the king and queen in king's landing. they are the ones who had all the weight of the succession and the kingdom in their shoulders. for sure, i like to think that while aegon was an asshole to everyone, he reached a sort of understanding with alicent at the end to go through it together, as the last ones. her war became his war, and everyone died for it.

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maidragoste · 1 year ago

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The Parent Trap: Chapter Two

Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon!Reader x Aemond Targaryen

Masterlist

Thank you for your support, I was nervous that people wouldn't like it because the fic wasn't the same as the movie so I'm very happy to read all your comments. REBLOGS and likes are always appreciated 🥰🥰💕💕💕

Btw, I made two playlists for this fic. One is from Aemond and the Reader and another is from Reader and Aegon. As I keep writing I'll probably add more songs or even delete some, who knows. If you have songs for me to add or are curious to know why, you are welcome to write to me in my inbox.

Disclaimer: English is not my first language so I apologize for any mistakes.

Ten years earlier

Your leg kept moving up and down. Your eyes are constantly directed to the door, expecting that at any moment Aemond would return home. You tried to distract yourself by watching TV but you were too anxious. Your mind couldn't focus on the stupid movie because all you could think about was the positive sign on the pregnancy tests you had taken that afternoon with Rhaena and Jace by your side. You regretted telling them to leave. If they were with you they would be preventing you from locking yourself in your own mind. They would make you tell them your fears and they would try to calm you down. The three of them would be making plans. You might even be practicing with Jace how the hell tell Aemond they were going to be parents.

You and Aemond would be parents. You would be a mother. You always knew you would have children, you wanted the happily ever after with the wedding and children like they always showed in the movies, but now you are terrified. It wasn't supposed to be like this. You're barely twenty-three years old, you haven't even finished your second year of editorial editing. It was assumed that when you had children you would be at least over twenty-seven, your career—a career you were truly passionate about—would be finished, you would have a good job, and you would be married. You tried to console yourself by telling yourself that at least you're in a stable relationship. You and Aemond have been dating for three years. You two knew each other since you were little because your godmother is Aemond's older sister and then you ended up attending the same school so you spent a lot of time together. You still remember like it was yesterday how nervous you were when you first kissed Aemond during New Year's. You were afraid of ruining your friendship and that things would become awkward but he didn't pull away when you kissed him he grabbed you by the waist and pulled you closer to him. That night they hid from everyone and spent the rest of the celebration kissing. The next day they started dating. From there everything was wonderful. Like any couple, you and Aemond have your run-ins—like when you argued because you didn't like the way he behaved with Jace, your best friend, or when Aemond got mad at you because you made the two of you leave the restaurant you were having a date at. to pick up a drunk Aegon in a bar again—but there was definitely more joy than displeasure in your relationship with Aemond. You saw yourself having a future with him, you could see yourself perfectly next to him in your white dress. You can imagine Aemond putting a baby to sleep while he lulls it to sleep in High Valyrian. Are you sure you want a future with Aemond. But you're terrified of his reaction to this unexpected news. What would you do if Aemond didn't want to keep the baby? You would have to break up with him. Even though you were scared, you knew you wanted to keep the baby. That was clear to you.

You heard the door open and it didn't take long for your boyfriend to enter. You got up from the couch and went to hug him. Whenever he returned home you welcomed him with a hug and kisses. This time you held on to him longer than usual, wanting to remember the feeling of Aemond's arms around you in case this was the last time.

You were about to kiss him but he turned your face away from him making your heart skip a beat. Before you could move away he gently grabbed your chin and studied you carefully. Of course, he had realized something was happening to you when you were clinging so fiercely to him.

“What's wrong?” he asked. Aemond first wanted to know what was happening to you before you kissed him.

Once again you regretted kicking Rhaena and Jace out. At least you should have taken advantage of this time alone to practice in front of the mirror how to tell your boyfriend that you are pregnant. Or you could have called your parents to help you. Although knowing them they would tell you to keep the secret so that the three of them could plan a big announcement together. But you couldn't wait, you need to know now what Aemond was thinking. You needed to know whether or not he would be with you on this trip.

“Y/n?” Your boyfriend called you, feeling his concern growing with every second that you remained silent.

“I think I'm pregnant” You closed your eyes feeling frustrated with yourself and hurried to correct yourself “I mean, I'm pregnant” You tried not to panic as you felt him move away from you “I haven't had any blood tests done yet but I'm One hundred percent sure I'm pregnant. I took five pregnancy tests and they all came back positive.”Your nerves were evident because you were talking faster than normal and you couldn't stop gesturing with your hands.

Aemond felt as if someone had thrown a bucket of cold water on him. This was not in his plans. Right now he was focused on opening his own publishing house, he needed to focus all of his attention on that, he didn't need a distraction and a baby would be that. Taking care of a child would take up too much time. But I couldn't tell you that. I'd be an idiot if I told you that. His mother didn't raise him to be an idiot.

“Marry me,” he said, knowing it was the right thing to do. Besides, ever since you two moved in together, he knew you were going to get married. He knows that he wants to spend the rest of his life waking up next to you, he wants your face to be the first and last thing he sees, he wants to come home and always be greeted with your kisses, he wants you to tell him about your day while the two of you have dinner, He wants to hear your theories about the TV shows you watch together. Aemond wants everything with you, even the most mundane things like going grocery shopping or walking the dogs. He loves you. The only reasons Aemond hadn't proposed to you already was because he wanted to wait until you finished college and he wanted his publishing company to be established. Planning a wedding was a big deal and you two didn't have time for that. But now it didn't matter anymore. “Marry me,” he said again with a smile as he saw how you opened your eyes and looked at him as if he were giving you the moon.

You couldn't help but laugh at yourself, feeling like an idiot for doubting Aemond. Maybe it wasn't the romantic proposal you had dreamed of but you didn't care. You were so relieved and so glad you didn't have to do this alone.

“Yes,” you responded with your heart racing and tears in your eyes. “Yes!” you repeated louder this time before throwing yourself into your fiancé's arms. You began to laugh as Aemond picked you up and spun you around. Your fears were forgotten. The only thing you felt at that moment was happiness.

Present

Aemon found it strange that when he arrived at camp Rickon was not waiting for him at the entrance like the previous years. He assumed this time that the trip had tired him too much and he went to take a nap in his cabin. So he decided to go there first instead of searching for him throughout the rest of the camp. If Rickon wasn't there at least he would leave his suitcases so he could walk comfortably.

When he entered the cabin he expected to find it empty or his best friend sleeping. He never imagined that an almost exact copy of him would be found walking back and forth all over the place. Aemon is not proud but his first reaction is to scream and throw his suitcase at him with all his might.

“Dude, what the hell?!” his copy shouted, barely managing to cum in time to avoid being hit.

“What happened?!” Rickon asked, also screaming, running out of the bathroom. “Aemon you finally arrived!” He ran to hug him.

Aemon barely moved his arms to hug Rickon but his eyes did not leave the other boy who was too similar to him. The copy of him didn't stop looking at him either, the two of them were studying each other. The only difference is that the stranger had much shorter hair than Aemon and did not have tanned skin like him. But Aemon knew that if he hadn't been sailing in the sun with his grandparents just a few days ago then he would look just like the copy of him.

"Who is he?" Aemon asked breaking the hug, no longer able to stand his curiosity. If he had encountered the copy of him years ago he would have thought that it was some kind of prank by Rickon or that maybe it was an evil clone but now he knew that it didn't make sense. The only logical explanation he could think of was that he had a missing twin but that didn't make sense because his mom would never hide something as big as this from him.

“Aemon do you need glasses? It's obvious that he's a copy of you," said the dark-haired boy, earning an angry look from the other two boys. “Don't do that, it's weird,” he complained.

“I am not Aemon's copy. In any case, he is my copy,” declared the short-haired boy.

“I met Aemon before so you are a copy of him.”

“Wait, why does he know my name?” Aemon interrupted before the other two continued fighting over who the copy was. He needed to know what was going on before he gave him a headache. Although since he saw the stranger he began to feel bad. It was disconcerting to see someone just like himself. He made him feel uncomfortable. Not even Joffrey looked that much like him, and she was his brother.

Aemon wanted to know who this boy was, why he looked so much like him, and why this was the first time he had met him. But at the same time, he was afraid. He could already sense that his life would be different after this camp. He decided to sit on the nearest bed to avoid running out and ask one of the caregivers for his cell phone to call his parents to come back to look for him. Maybe he should have let Mom walk him to the cabin like she wanted.

“Your friend thought I was you, he came up shouting your name when I was with my uncle Daeron. My uncle said that he knew you and that I should stay with Rickon until you showed up. Now I see why he insisted so much."

Aemon was sure he had heard Daeron's name before but he was sure he had never met him. Without realizing it he began to move his leg up and down trying to remember that he knew about Daeron but nothing came to mind.

“I am Baelon Targaryen,” the boy introduced himself, looking at him with concern and Aemon squeezed his leg to prevent himself from moving it further. “I think I'm your twin.”

“No,” the long-haired boy denied instantly.

“Dude, we're literally copies of each other!” Baelon said, frustration evident in his voice, pointing at Aemon and then at himself.

Rickon gave Baelon a look telling him to shut up. In the few hours that he had known him, Baelon had never seen Rickon so serious, so he crossed his arms indignantly and watched silently and attentively as Stark sat next to his twin.

“I know it seems crazy, Aemon, but I really think Baelon is right,” said the dark-haired boy, looking at his friend with concern. Rickon wouldn't know how to react either if he suddenly found out that he had a twin. “The two are copies of each other. Besides, he grew up without knowing his mom and you grew up without knowing your dad. I don't think it's a coincidence. Just like I don't think it's a coincidence that Baelon's uncle knew you."

Aemon looked at his best friend before turning his attention to his possible new brother. “When were you born?”

"June 20th. I guess just like you," said Baelon, and was satisfied when he saw that his twin nodded. "I have a photo of Mom!" He suddenly remembered the photo that he had stolen from Dad a long time ago and that he had hidden in his luggage. “You can see her and confirm that she is our mom,” he said excitedly, thinking that this way Aemon could no longer deny his relationship. He couldn't help but be excited at the thought that he was no longer alone, he had a brother. He had always seen how close his uncle Daeron was to his dad and his other uncles and he remembered wanting to have the same.

Baelon ran to grab his suitcase and began to take out all of his clothes, not caring about the mess, until he found the latest Boku no Hero manga that he was reading and triumphantly pulled out one of the pages the photo of her mother with him in her arms while she kissed his cheek, her eyes were only on him, not caring to look at the camera.

“Look,” he said, handing the photo proudly to Aemon. The photo wasn't complete, it was obvious that someone had cut it in half but Baelon didn't care. That photo was one of his most prized possessions. He looked at her every day before going to sleep because he reminded him that his mom loves him.

“Oh, shit,” Aemon muttered before handing the photo back to him.

“It's her, right?” Baelon asked, watching with anticipation as it was now Aemon who was searching for something in his suitcase. Aemon, unlike him, was not throwing his clothes everywhere. He felt his heart race when he saw how his twin took out a notebook and took something out of it.

“Is this your dad?” Aemon asked, giving him a photo. Baelon nodded several times, unable to say anything out of emotion. His dad wasn't looking at the camera but he wasn't looking at the baby he was holding either. He just looked to the side with a smile.

Baelon took both photos and placed them side by side on the bed. The photo was now complete. Dad was looking at Mom. If Baelon hadn't been so engrossed in looking at the photo then he would have noticed Aemon and Rickon exchanging glances.

“I told you we're twins!” Baelon said with a big smile once he snapped out of the shock of nudging Aemon.

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