Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Chapter 1

Lucerys Strong built walls for a reason.

To keep people out.

Seven years had gone into fortifying them, sealing cracks, soundproofing every breach.

And then it had taken Aemond Targaryen less than a heartbeat to tear them down—just by looking at him. As if nothing had changed since he’d left King’s Landing.

He was back now, no longer a child, but still hiding like one in the upstairs bathroom of some stranger’s sprawling house on Visenya’s Hill, gripping the edges of the porcelain sink, water dripping off his chin.

How had he even let Rhaena drag him here?

He’d declined her invite at first, obviously. Ending summer on a high note at a party of all places sounded like the exact opposite of his idea of a good time. Drinking, dancing and talking to strangers was too far outside his comfort zone. No, his idea of a high note was more literal—like the highest key on a piano. But Rhaena had insisted, and eventually Luke had caved.

At least Jace wasn’t here. That had been the deciding factor. A night where he could, for once, be someone other than Jacaerys Strong’s loser little brother.

For the first hour, it had almost worked.

When they arrived at the white-bricked mansion a few hours earlier, it had been packed wall-to-wall with teens he didn’t know, which had been perfect, as close as he could get to a blank page, a new slate.

He’d knocked back a couple of beers (less of an enjoyment and more of a formality) which had loosened him up. 

He had socialized to his heart's content, played a couple of rounds of beer pong. Rhaena had even gotten him dancing, and he’d been—Gods help him—having fun.

It had all been going great. Then Aemond had walked in.

Lucerys saw him before he even heard the cheers from the rest of the party. Tall. All black leather and shadow, silver hair catching the light like a blade. His face was sharper now, cut and honed by time, but his single violet eye was still devastatingly familiar.

Lucerys froze, mid-laugh.

Eight years vanished.

He was ten again, following Aemond and Jace around like a puppy, desperate to be let into their games.

He remembered how Aemond, usually brooding and shy, would peek outside his shell whenever he was around Jace. How the two of them would spend hours fighting with wooden swords in the garden or play street hockey in the driveway. 

He remembered the two of them joining the team together in 6th grade.

He remembered Aemond coaxing him onto the ice for the first time, holding both his hands until he stopped wobbling. He remembered how safe that smile had made him feel—safe enough to fall.

God, he’d fallen so hard.

But that was years ago. Before Aemond stopped coming around and switched schools. Before the Strong’s moved to Dragonstone not long after. Before Luke learned how easy it was to become invisible.

And then suddenly there Aemond had been, standing across the room, watching him with a look that saw straight through all the walls Luke had spent years building.

Which was how Luke had ended up in this bathroom trying to scrub the memory of that stare off his face.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

Puberty had not quite hit him as much as gently leaned into him. The baby fat was gone, sure, and his jaw was a little more defined, but he still remained soft around the edges. The storm of curls on his head was as untamed as ever, his bow-shaped lips too full, almost always parted and revealing his overbite.

Nothing like Jace.

Never like Jace.

And Aemond had always looked at Jace.

Lucerys had gone to this party because deep down he had always wanted to have friends, to be accepted and live a social life just like Jace did. Tonight was supposed to have been the night where he wouldn’t have to be compared to his brother.

Because he’d always lost that game.

Aemond showing up had reawaken all of his deepest insecurities about himself. Because Aemond had truly looked at him, and yet Lucerys knew that it wasn’t him Aemond had seen. 

Lucerys was just a reminder.

What he had first thought was the beat of the song thrumming against the tiles, he realized with a jolt back to reality that it was really pounding at the bathroom door, Some girl begged to be let in. He picked up his red cup, now filled with elderflower Briska, where it waited for him on the marble top. 

Unlocking the bathroom door and opening it, a girl pushed past him as he walked out, getting on her knees to cascade into the toilet bowl. 

Luke muttered an apology, and slipped out.

He didn’t go back to the party. Instead, he wandered into the master bedroom.

He gulped down half of his drink, blinking dizzily as the welcoming rush of endorphins coursed through him, before walking out onto the connected balcony.

He needed some air. Under the slowly setting sun, the west avenues laid still. The heat of the day had been replaced by a gentle breeze Lucerys felt against his cheek as he leaned against the railing and looked out over the massive garden.

Lucerys felt bone tired and weary, ready for the party to end. As he sondered out over the crowd below, he spotted Aemond and his friends standing in a circle by the poolside.

Even from a distance, he was magnetic—leaning against the fence, arms crossed, a girl with long dark hair hanging off him like a decoration he couldn’t be bothered to acknowledge. His eye found Luke’s in an instant.

Pinned him there.

Luke’s heart kicked into overdrive. He turned away sharply, staring out over the starry skyline over Aegon’s High Hill instead. Over what had been his home ones.

‘The higher the altitude, the closer to the Gods, the more serene life.' was a saying in King’s Landing. The breathtaking view from on top of Visenya’s Hill reminded Lucerys just how true the words were.

It also reminded him how much he no longer belonged.

Everything had changed so much.

“You’re not having fun?”

Luke startled, whipping his head toward the voice.

The boy who’d apparently joined him on the balcony was tall, a few inches taller than Lucerys at least, solidly built with golden hair in a neat slickback.

This guy was at least one year his senior, athletic and dressed in an ill-fitting flannel shirt that screamed inferiority complex. He wasn’t Lucerys’ type at all - too pompous, seemed boring just by looking at him.

Before Luke could respond, Jason plucked the cider straight out of his hand and downed it.

“Sweet tooth, huh?” He hummed with a lazy grin as he dropped the empty cup over the balcony into the pool below.

Luke gave him the pinched, polite expression he’d adopted from his mother when the fuse was fireside—before he tried to spot Rhaena below. He needed to be rescued.

No luck he realized as he found her, busy flirting with some guy in a snapback.

Look up, look up, look up.

Jason’s fingers tipped Luke’s chin back toward him. “So have I.”

Luke’s heart stumbled.

Never had he been approached by anyone this impudent and intrusive, not that he had been approached much at all. Being hit on was rare for him, especially by another guy, and so he was not sure what to make of it really. 

There was annoyance and enticement and confusion mixing ferociously with all of the liquor swimming around in his system.

“You new to King’s Landing?” The stranger asked, his grip still firm on Luke’s jaw.

“You—uh—could say that.” Lucerys fumbled and licked his dry lips again when he noticed the guy staring at them intensely.

“I'm Jason.”

“Luke.”

Jason smiled like he’d just been handed a gift. “What’s a pretty thing like you doing out here alone? You waiting on someone?”

Lucerys knew he was blushing now, he could feel the heat on his cheeks. Sure, maybe he had been waiting on someone. It was silly, really.

“I-I needed some ai-”

Jason didn’t wait. He leaned in, close enough for Luke to smell the elderflower on his breath. “You seem a little drunk. Stay with me. I’ll take care of you.”

The words sent a shiver through Luke—part fear, part thrill. This guy really said ‘fuck subtlety’ and left home all barefaced and confident this evening. Far from as boring as Lucerys had originally thought.

It made him feel a bit jealous.

He’d give anything for even ten seconds of insane bravery.

He knew who he’d use it on.

The mere thought of him made Lucerys' blush darken. Jason looked delighted, probably thinking that the credit was all his.

Jason let go of his chin, raising his fingers to brush them across his burning skin as if admiring it. The touch drifted down the line of Lucerys’ jaw, thumb coming up to press against his lower lip.

Lucerys shuddered, flickered his eyes closed and steadied himself with a grip on the railing.

Jason grabbed him by the wrist and pulled his hand forward, placing it over his crotch. His boner was as subtle as he was, but Lucerys couldn’t help but feel flattered.

He also couldn’t help feeling self-conscious because he never dared himself this far out at sea, and he got greensick so easily.

“Fuck, you’re so hot.”

Lucerys didn’t know about that, but when Jason licked his way into his mouth, he couldn't stop the low moan from escaping his throat. 

The kiss was possessive, the guy clutching his body tight and grinding up against his hand. Lucerys didn’t stop any of it, instead he answered with equal lust. 

It felt good to be wanted, to be touched. Some part of him craving the contact, the attention. Craving Aemond.

He couldn’t help scrunching his face up as he yearningly visualized Aemond’s lips against his, Aemond’s fingers grazing his skin. He had so many times before, had created many scenarios in his mind how it would feel, Aemond’s warmth and scent and being.

Lucerys lost himself in the concept, that was, until Jason suddenly pried Lucerys’ hand from over his jeans-clad crotch, down his pants and underwear, to fondle his privates.

Jason wasn’t Aemond.

This was moving way too fast.

Lucerys released the grip on the balcony railing to push his free hand against the broad chest, trying to put some space between them. Jason muttered in return and batted Lucerys’ hand aside impatiently.

Lucerys felt panic crawl up his throat as his eyes widened. 

He broke the kiss and twisted his face away. “W-Wait,” He stuttered and tried to pry his hand out of Jason’s underwear without success. His grip iron around Luke’s wrist.

“Don’t be such a fucking tease…” Jason whispered harshly against the hollow of his neck, before replacing it with his lips where he sucked down hard.

Jason’s hand snaked up the fabric of Lucerys’ hoodie and shirt with hurried fingers, tracing his lips down to his exposed collarbone and licking a stripe along the prominent bone as he began backing them towards the bedroom behind them.

Lucerys no longer wanted it.

He probably never did.

“I-I said w-wait.”

A cluster of bravery sparked in his chest and he was just about to use all his force to push Jason off of him, when Jason was roughly pulled away from him.

…and swiftly thrown over the balcony railing.

Jason screamed as he fell and plunged heavily into the water below. The party guests surrounding the poolside shrieked in shock as they got splashed by the giant wave following his impact.

It all happened within the span of a few seconds.

Lucerys quickly stepped back from the railing and lost a bit of his balance, but a strong hand closed around his arm, steadying him before he could stumble.

He turned to focus his slightly blurrier attention. There he was.

Aemond.

Closer than Luke had been to him in almost a decade, staring down at him, wide eye roving over his face.

“A-Aemond?” He managed a gasp, the name felt foreign on his tongue after such a long time.

Aemond didn’t answer, but his grip tightened and he started dragging Luke through the bedroom, down the stairs, out the front door.

“Let go of me!” Luke protested, his voice braver than he felt.

Aemond ignored him, hauling him down the steps and toward a sleek black Cadillac parked by the curb. He shoved Luke into the passenger seat with little to no effort, clicked the seatbelt into place, before lifting a long, slender finger in the air between them.

“Be good.” Aemond’s tone was clipped in a way that made it clear that the topic wasn’t open for further discussion.

Luke’s mouth fell open in shocked disbelief as Aemond shut the door and stalked back inside.

Alone, Luke buried his burning face in his hands. His heart was thrumming so hard it drowned out the music still blasting from inside.

He sat in silence as he tried to gather the last shreds of his sober mind.

It just hit him just how drunk he was. He had never been this drunk before.

Shit.

“Shit Luke,” He muttered to himself and took a few breaths to try and collect himself. “Be cool…”

Lucerys flinched at Aemond suddenly jerking the door open on the driver’s side and got in, shutting them inside the car together.

There was a long pause, silence stretching out for what felt like ages, like Aemond was waiting for Lucerys to say something, giving him a chance. But Lucerys’ head and heart was pounding in rhythm and he couldn’t.

He just couldn’t.

He wasn’t brave like Jace… He never have been.

Aemond losed a sigh, turned the key in the ignition and began driving. He sped past the rich neighborhoods of Eel Alley, the sharp decline of Visenya’s Hill forcing him to shift down a gear.

“Were you enjoying yourself back there?” he asked finally, voice level but tight.

Luke choked on air, heat flaring in his cheeks.

“I didn’t ask you to—” Lucerys began to protest but all Aemond had to do was raise one devastating eyebrow and his voice died in his throat.

“You’ll stay away from Jason Lannister.”

The placating sort of patient demand in his low tone only sent Lucerys’ irritation spiking higher. He pursed his lips and frowned, eyes down.

Luke clenched his jaw. “Fine.”

He shifted in his seat, face ablaze from embarrassment. Aemond was treating him like a spoiled child in need of scolding. In need of protection against his own, bad judgements.

But he wasn’t a child anymore and he hated the thought of Aemond seeing him like that.

“Where do you live now?”

Luke shook his head wordlessly, biting his lip. Oh, he was not going home. Not like this.

“Where’s Jace? Does he know where you are? You should call him.”

There it was. Of course. Jace.

“Fuck Jace,” Lucerys gritted out, and instantly regretted it. The thought had turned into actual words against his own will.

The quiet that followed was deafening, but the nausea overtook him before the guilt could.

He felt a mix of every red cup he’d had the past hours swirl around in his stomach traveling up his throat. His stomach lurched, violently.

Aemond swore, slammed the brakes, and yanked the door open just as Luke blacked out.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2

Lucerys woke to birdsong.

And a headache from hell.

The sunlight filtering through the curtains was too bright, the smell of chlorine and fresh-cut grass too sharp. His throat felt like sandpaper, his tongue sticky with the ghost of cider.

For a few blessed seconds he didn’t remember where he was. Then memory rushed back like a tidal wave: the party. Jason. The balcony.

Aemond.

Luke made a grumpy sound of protest in response as he latched onto a nearby pillow and clung to it like a stuffed animal. 

The phone buzzing on the nightstand wasn’t merciful enough to let him wallow.

Bzzzt.

He reached blindly for it, rolling onto his side. His stomach lurched, his head spinning as he registered that he wasn't in his own bed.

It hit him then.

The fresh smell of gallicas and faint chlorine from the pool outside had him surrounded. He could hear the faint sound of waves crashing against the cliffs of Blackwater Bay and, despite the somber hush to the summer air, the bright musical twitter of goldfinches in the apple trees in the expansive garden.

It felt like a phantom limb having a kicking fit.

Lucerys slowly squinted his eyes open halfway to find himself in the red mansion’s pool house.

He had spent many childhood days in this room, on the grass outside, by the rocky beach a few miles down the road. 

The images flashing through his mind were so vivid that he had to squeeze his eyes shut against them.

It was a square, little complementary building facing the outdoor pool, with an open-plan and a connected bathroom. The floor-to-ceiling windows covered half of the wall-space, making the room feel light and airy, no matter the season.

Back in the day, it had been the Targaryen children’s playroom. Luke remembered driving hot wheels down the steps of the second level, trying and failing at beating Aegon at FIFA on the cloud couch and collecting insects with Heleana and making makeshift homes for them in the drawers of the built-in closet.

Judging by the trophies and medals fighting for space on the bookshelf and team photographs and hockey jerseys almost covering one wall entirely, as well as added furniture like a desk and bed, it was obvious what the place had become.

It was now Aemond Targaryen’s bedroom.

Lucerys was in Aemond’s bedroom.

On his bed.

Bzzzt.

The phone vibrated again. Lucerys rolled onto his side, tucking his elbow under his head and reached for his phone, which was charging, on the nightstand.

"Shit…" he murmured, rubbing his tired eyes to read the notifications on his screen.

Jace: (3) missed calls, (6) unread messages. Rhaena: (2) missed calls, (4) messages.

He flinched, guilt slamming into him. 

Pulling the phone off the charger, Lucerys went to text his brother back, when a voice cut through the air.

“Has anyone ever told you that you’re a handful?”

Lucerys shot upright.

Aemond stood in the doorway, haloed by morning light. His hair was tied back in a sharp bun to reveal a pair of airpods in his ears, his chest slick with sweat from a run, black mesh shorts hanging low on his hips. A glass of pink liquid in one hand, a leash dangled from the other, attached to the biggest dog Luke had ever seen.

The sight nearly stopped Luke’s heart.

“Once or twice,” he managed, trying for flippant but coming out breathless.

Unease embraced him like a smelly uncle as he remembered Aemond had needed to save him last night.

Like a damsel in distress.

Aemond didn’t look convinced. He crossed the room with that same deliberate calmness he’d had last night—controlled, magnetic.

The dog bounded forward and leapt onto the bed, licking Luke’s face with unbridled enthusiasm. Luke laughed despite himself, swiping at his cheek.

“Vhagar, down,” Aemond ordered, pulling her away by the collar. “She’s not usually like this.”

“It’s fine. She’s—” Luke stopped, feeling the vertigo return. He wasn’t sure if it was the hangover this time… or Aemond being way too close.

 “I brought you some diuretics.” Aemond handed him a glass of water tinged pink. “You still like strawberry right?”

Luke exhaled a "Thank you.” before he began sipping on it. He scowled at the bitter, medicinal taste caused by the white tablet sizzling at the bottom of the glass, still feeling Aemond’s eyes on him.

“Crazy night,” he said after swallowing, because the silence was unbearable.

Aemond raised a brow. “That’s one word for it."

"Did I cause you any trouble?"

"You refused to give me your address, your phone died, and you threw up—twice. I brought you here so you could charge your phone and wash off but you were completely out of it. So I mean, if you call that trouble than yeah”

Luke’s blush burned hot. “Sorry,” he mumbled.

He found the other boy's violet eye lower to his neck, to which he reflexively moved to cover the mark on his neck. Jason’s mark.

Aemond’s jaw tightened.

“You’ll stay away from Jason Lan-.”

“I don’t need to be told twice.” Lucerys quickly jabbed back, making sure to put weight on the fact that Aemond was more or less ordering him around already.

Aemond’s expression remained impassive, but looked as though he could very possibly be on the cusp of raising another eyebrow.

Desperate for a distraction, Luke scooched to sit on the edge of the Kingsized bed. Vhagar immediately walked up to put her muzzle in his lap. He reached for the book on the nightstand. “You read?”

“Not really.” Aemond’s voice was unreadable. “I’m taking advanced Valyrian this semester. Brushing up.”

Trying to ignore how charmed he was by Aemond’s muscular body, Lucerys kept the talking going.

“I remember this book." He smiled. "You brought it to a sleepover once. Mum read it to us after we watched a scary movie and couldn’t fall asleep, to calm us down."

He skimmed through the pages as he fondly reminisced, not just at a memory he and Aemond had shared, but also at his mother’s presence within it.

"She did this terrible dragon impression…”

He lifted the back of his hand to his mouth, wiggling his fingers to mimic fire. 

Lucerys met Aemond's gaze just as he realized what he was doing.

He had gotten carried away.

Instinctively he looked away and gripped his own wrist and pulled it down, away from his face. Twisting hands together to prevent them from doing anything ever again.

A renewed nervous sweat broke out over his entire body and there was a strange ringing in his ears.

When he dared glance up, Aemond’s expression had softened, just barely.

Luke’s chest tightened.

“Your Valyrian as good as it was back then?” Aemond asked, as casually as if they hadn’t been strangers for eight years.

Lucerys managed a shy smile at the question as he stroked a gentle hand over Vhagar's head.

Almond had remembered something about him.

Lucerys shrugged, fussing with the edges of the pages of the book. “Better… I hope.”

Another buzz from his phone shattered the moment.

“Jace must be worried,” Aemond said.

Just like that, the mood in the pool house changed, turning slightly sour.

“I don’t care,” Luke muttered, more defensive than he meant.

The thrumming against his temples gained pace and he knew this was the right moment to leave. He got on his feet and pushed his phone into his jeans pocket.

He had overstayed his welcome. He had technically not really been welcomed at all, but had forced Aemond to take him in due to his own helplessness.

“You puked all over your hoodie,” Aemond said matter-of-factly. “It’s in the wash. Take one of mine.”

Before Luke could protest, Aemond pulled a hoodie over his head from behind, leaving him to flail blindly until he got his arms through.

Luke froze when he realized what he was wearing—black, oversized, washed-out Tully and Co logo on its chest, smelling faintly of peonies and detergent.

It felt like being wrapped in Aemond himself.

Looking down to find himself swimming in the hoodie, Lucerys took a deep but silent breath, swallowed hard and then cleared his throat. “Thanks. I’ll give it back soon.”

“Right. You should go. Team leaves for Highgarden in an hour.”

“Oh. Of course.” Lucerys looked around for his sneakers, finding them by one of the many entrances. “First game of the season?” He asked as he crossed the room, Vhagar following.

Aemond hummed in response, not lifting his gaze as he continued packing his bag. “There’s a hole in the bush behind the garage. You can sneak out through there. Oh and don’t tell anyone about this,” He then said, and Lucerys stopped in his tracks. “And not Jace either. Got it?”

Lucerys could feel himself deflating but gave a brief nod of resigned agreement, despite Aemond no longer paying attention to him.

“Good luck,” he said quietly, patting Vhagar once more before hurrying out the door and following Aemond's instructions through the garden and out onto the steepy slopes of Aegon’s High Hill.

On the train heading north, Luke sat slumped in his seat, trying to get a handle on his stupid emotions. The hoodie sleeves pulled over his hands.

Aemond was a jock, popular and with a reputation to uphold. Lucerys was no one. No one important. No he was someone, someone who reminded Aemond of a past he had left behind. A friend he had left behind. Jace.

He told himself the sharp disappointment eating at his chest wasn’t about Aemond’s last words.

But it was.

He’d wanted this night—this morning—to mean something.

And maybe to Aemond, it didn’t mean anything at all.

“Next station is… Street of Sisters. This is a Three Hill line train to… Dragon’s Gate. Please mind the gap between the train and the platform.”

Lucerys got off and walked out of the station right outside the bee-hive that was Flea Bottom.

His new home. Well, he could pretend at least.

The family had to move from Dragonstone to King’s Landing in a haste, leaving behind a life Lucerys had loved.

In Dragonstone, Luke had friends, an afterschool job and a daily routine he had been comfortable with.

Most of all, he had been able to visit his mother anytime he wanted.

Now, hours away from what was home, it felt like they had left her behind at that cematary too.

Making the turn onto Reeking Lane, Lucerys found his apartment complex standing worn and wiggly at the end of it. He slowly fished the key to the building out of his pocket as he approached it.

The headache had festered and was now prancing around with his wounded self-consciousness and sullen mood in his head.

He needed to sleep the icks away and prepare both mentally and physically for the first day of college in the morning.

He just needed some rest.

The moment Lucerys stepped through the front door, he was bodychecked against it, slamming it close.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Jacaerys growled in his face.

“Ow, get off me!”

Jace had never really become aware of how much stronger than Luke he was. They had always scuffled and wrestled with one another, like brothers do. But with time and loads of hours in the rink, Jace had become much stronger.

“Stop!”

After some struggling, Lucerys managed to sidestep out of the grip. He took a defensive step back, putting some distance between them and tugging the hoodie’s collar up to hide the hickey.

“We thought you were dead in a ditch. I’ve called you twenty times!” Jace gritted out.

“Three,” Luke muttered.

“Where did you go after the party?”

Luke hesitated, then lied badly. “Rhaena’s.”

“You’re gonna lie right to my fucking face?” Jacaerys’ voice got louder, accusing. “I called her, she said you just disappeared. She was worried about you.”

“Whatever…” Luke had not come up with any excuses or lies about his whereabouts, had not thought any of this through, which in hindsight had been really stupid. His mind was already occupied entirely by Aemond.

So he did the only thing he could think of that would settle it for now.

He walked away.

It wasn’t just impossible to win a physical fight against Jace, win in an argument was also a loss from the get go.

His older brother always knew what to say, how to say it and where to pick and pry. Lucerys’ only way to get around it, he had realized, was to leave. He wished he was better at tackling situations head on but Jace had always made sure there was no room for him to learn it, to master it.

And so Luke did the only thing he knew how to do. He turned to leave, heading for his bedroom.

But then Jace said four words of treachery. “I almost called dad…” and it made Lucerys halt in his step.

“Fine!” He jerked around at that, no longer purposefully hiding his assaulted neck. “I went home with a guy. Are you happy? Do you want to know if I sucked his cock or not? Maybe we should call dad, I’ll tell him how-”

He was working overtime to keep his voice from shaking while watching Jace’s face fall with every word.

“No, fuck, it’s alright. I- I-“ Jace interrupted his rant, raising his hands up defensively.

Silence lingered between them then, cold and hard.

Jace knew his little brother was gay. Had figured it out years ago. Their father however didn't know, and it was best to not load more on his shoulders than he was already dealing with.

Ever since their mother’s death, the arguing, the teasing, the scuffles, had turned into something bitter between the brothers. It kept getting worse and Lucerys could no longer feel the same kind of admiration he used to feel for his brother.

It felt like they no longer knew each other.

As annoying and overprotecting and downright manipulative as Jace was being right now, Luke always hated fighting with him, it made his chest ache horribly.

It crept up into his throat, hurting so bad it felt like he had a blade lodged there. “So, we are done here?” he croaked, forcing himself not to break eye contact even though he desperately wanted to.

When Jace didn’t speak, and Luke had for once actually won, he stumbled off down the hallway and into his room still feeling like a loser.

---

Hours later, he reemerged. Still swallowed up in Aemond’s oversized hoodie and a pair of black sweatpants to match, Luke sat on the sofa in the living room with Arrax asleep in his lap. Halfway into reading The Life of the Triarch Belicho and stuffing Doritos into his mouth, he was long past caring if he was getting cheese powder and chip crumbs all over the pages.

He heard the front door open and a wave of laughter rolled inside the apartment, disturbing the peace. Arrax meowed in displeasure, jumping down and strutting off to a calmer corner.

“Joffrey is asleep.” Luke stated, irritated, between chews and the voices in the hallway respectfully lowered some.

Finally, Jace walked into the living room with two of his friends in tow.

Cregan Stark and Sara Snow, two northerners with stereotypically proud and boisterous personalities. 

Cregan dropped onto the couch next to him, grinning. “Sorry little man. All good?” Cregan ruffled his hair, grin as wide as always.

“All good.” Lucerys confirmed, smiling back shyly.

Cregan always had a flirtatious way about him that made Lucerys bubble up inside every time he was near him. It was nothing like how he felt around Aemond though, but a lighter and more jittery feeling. 

He liked it.

He liked Cregan.

Sara Snow on the other hand he had not gotten to know yet. While Jace and Cregan had been friends since kindergarten, Sara and Jace had gotten to know one another the past year through their mutual friend.

Lucerys suspected a romance building between his brother and her. He had seen it before, a few times actually, how the girls lust after Jace. How easily he can just pick anyone since they all line up for him.

"You joining us, Lukester?" Cregan asked and dipped his large, goalie hand into the Dorito bag between them.

Luke looked up from his book, blinking quickly, “Join you where?” He asked, closing the paperback over his finger.

Jace turned the TV on while tapping away on his phone with a focused scowl while Cregan laughed at Luke, pressing a handful of chips into his mouth.

"Dragons vs. Golden Rose game’s on.”

Luke’s heart did an unhelpful little leap. Aemond’s team.

“Don’t bother,” Jace said. “Luke would rather die than watch hockey.”

Luke ignored the jab. He stayed, telling himself it was just background noise. But when Aemond skated onto the rink, Luke couldn’t look away.

“A tyrant in the rink, and the youngest reigning hockey enforcer in the Seven Kingdoms. Aemond Targaryen is on fire tonight.” The commentator yelled during the endgame with two minutes left on the clock.

Aemond scored with only four seconds left of the game.

   “He’s incredible.” Sara whispered in awe.

Lucerys dared to glance over at Jacaerys for a second, catching a hint of an impressed look which was a nice thing to witness despite it all.

But then Aemond pulled off his glove as he made a victory lap across the rink, and to Lucerys absolute surprise, placed the back of his hand to his mouth and wiggled his fingers.

Like a dragon breathing fire.

Luke’s heart nearly stopped.

He felt all sorts of emotion at once, a blazing, heart-thumping hope emerging at the forefront. He had to contain his glee about the fact that Aemond was in a way acknowledging him.

He turned to Jace, but Jace wasn’t watching him. Jace was glaring at the TV like he wanted to burn it down.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3

Lucerys was late.

Of course he was.

He zipped up his backpack, shoved his keys into one pocket, grabbed Joffrey’s hand with the other, and bolted out the apartment door.

Jacaerys had left for early practice and apparently decided that “get Joffrey to school” was now Luke’s job. No warning, no note — just a seven-year-old waiting at the kitchen table with his shirt on backwards and his face half-buried in soggy Coco Pops.

By the time Luke had wrangled him into something resembling presentable and packed his bag, they were both sprinting down Reeking Lane, lungs burning as the bus approached.

They made it — barely. Luke dragged Joffrey up the steps, muttering a thank-you to the driver, and collapsed into the first empty seat he found.

The stress didn’t leave with the bus stop. Luke went into autopilot: checking Joffrey’s lunch box, his homework, his safety blanket — triple-checking, because God forbid something was missing and Joffrey had to suffer for Jace’s carelessness.

By the time the bus climbed the incline of Rhaenys’ Hill, Luke was finally breathing again.

Five stops later, Joffrey hopped off, small backpack bouncing, and Luke’s throat pinched tight as he watched him disappear into the throng of kids hugging their parents goodbye.

Joffrey didn’t get that today.

Luke swallowed the lump and stayed on the bus as it chugged higher, past historical villas and manicured gardens, until North Hill stretched out around him like a painting.

"Next stop, Dragonpit West.” 

There was something humbling about this place. The other hills of King’s Landing flaunted their power or history. North Hill was different — here, everything felt earned. This was the hill of hard workers, of achievers.

And today, it was Luke’s turn to do just that.

He adjusted his hoodie — Aemond’s hoodie — and climbed off the bus when it stopped outside the massive domed building at the crown of the hill. The Dragonpit.

The heart of the city’s learning district.

Luke let the crowd carry him up the walkway, stomach knotting tighter with each step. This was it. His fresh start.

No longer Jacaerys Strong’s shadow, no longer the awkward little brother. Today he could be someone new.

Someone braver.

--

The hallways buzzed with noise, lockers slamming, students calling to each other over the din.

Luke kept his head down, focused on finding his locker, when two girls passed him talking in hushed but excited voices.

“Did you hear about Lannister?”

Jason.

Luke’s pulse jumped.

“They say someone pushed him. Messed up his knee bad. He’s probably out for the season.”

Luke’s ears rang. Had anyone seen him on the balcony? Did they know?

Why had Aemond done that? Had it been a hockey team rivalry issue Luke had unintentionally gotten caught in the middle of, or had Aemond done it to help him?

While burying half his face in the collar of the hoodie to hide the blush that creeped onto his cheeks at the thought, Luke could smell flowers all over.

He smelled of Aemond all over.

Finding his locker, he grabbed a notebook and the assigned literature for the first class of the day, Essos History, from his backpack before trying to squeeze it inside the narrow space.

By the time he’d wrestled his books into the narrow locker and set the padlock combination (his mother’s nameday — safe, secret, familiar), a familiar voice cut through the hallway noise.

“There you are!”

Rhaena was making her way toward him, a bright yellow dress swishing around her knees, dreads pulled back in a ponytail, lip gloss catching the light. She was glowing.

Luke managed a sheepish wave. He hadn’t called her after the party. Or texted. He didn’t know why — maybe he’d been too busy replaying Aemond in his head like a favorite song.

Rhaena caught him by the shoulders and narrowed her eyes playfully.

“I have a goose to pluck with you.”

Luke blinked. “You have a what?”

“It’s a Naathi proverb. Means I’ve got a bone to pick with you.”

He couldn’t help laughing, ducking his head. “Sorry.”

“For leaving me on read? When I thought you were dead?”

“Yes.”

Rhaena smirked. “As long as you had a good reason… which you did, right?”

Luke’s blush gave him away.

“I knew it!” she crowed, shoving his shoulder.

“Shh!” Luke hissed, looking around, but she just linked her arm through his and dragged him toward class, mimicking an owl.

He didn’t say Aemond’s name. Couldn’t. Not yet. Not when he didn’t even know what last night meant.

And so he kept schtum, and instead changed the subject by beginning to viciously interrogate Rhaena about the guy she had been shamelessly flirting with at the party. She spilled the beans before they reached the classroom, and spilled some more during the first break.

Hugh Hammer, West Hiller and the Lions’ most skilled defender. In year 13. Built like a mountain and a total gentleman apparently, at least according to Rhaena, who had tried negotiating information regarding Luke’s mystery man at least two more times during the first period.

Luke said that in time she’d find out.

Luke really had no idea then just how bad things would turn before she did.

The first day of college went by smoothly, at least by Luke’s standard. He lent a classmate a pen and earned a grateful smile, made polite conversation with his desk neighbor in calc, even raised his hand — twice — in Andal Literature.

By lunch, he was buzzing with a strange new energy — socially exhausted but proud of himself. The reinvention of Lucerys Strong was officially underway.

He escaped to a bench in the courtyard with a goat cheese salad and his phone, enjoying a rare pocket of quiet.

In this pocket, Aemond re-appeared on his mind.

Luke wanted to- no… needed to see him again. Needed to return the hoodie somehow even if he had gotten pretty attached to it at this point. Needed his own hoodie back.

But how was the question...

He had ended up at the Red Mansion by mistake. Because his stupid, drunken ass had needed saving… and a clean shirt. It had been due to circumstances. He realized that the chance of the two of them simply crossing paths again was slim.

After some thinking, he decided that the best way to get a hold of Aemond was online. He searched for Aemond’s name on Instagram and after finding it, he began stalking his profile.

Damn.

Aemond really was pop-u-lar. 

And it wasn't like the hockey player was an active participant on social media. He had posted a total of 14 images, each with at least five months apart. Still, he had over 1.5k followers and got over 800 likes on each post.

Impressive. The shy and reclusive Aemond Targaryen whom Lucerys had known was no more it seemed.

The most current picture was posted at the end of June, of him by the pool with his older brother Aegon and the twins he recognized from the party.

Luke bit his lip, thumb hovering over the ‘follow’ button for a long moment.

He realized then that he had two fears. 

Aemond finding him desperate, and Aemond rejecting him by not following back.

He quickly decided against it and sent a DM instead.

After hitting send, Luke quickly locked his phone and put it in his pocket. His heart was beating rabbit fast in his chest, but he had never felt braver. 

Dragonstone Lucerys would never have been the first to send a message, never would had initiated anything. He would have kept the hoodie rather than putting in the work to return it to its rightful owner if it meant going outside his comfort zone.

Maybe Dragonpit Lucerys was someone else entirely.

At least, he got to have a moment of that belief, that is until Jace appeared around the corner flanked by his Wolf teammates.

They were loud, laughing, full of that easy confidence Luke had never managed to master. Jace glanced at him from across the courtyard — not waving, not smiling, just giving him that look...

To anyone else it might had gone by unnoticed. But Luke was used to the look of pity on his brother’s face. Had been its main target for many years. The slight arch of eyebrows followed by a pursing of lips he had come to know well and despise just as much.

He knew Jace would be interrogating him about this later, why he was sitting and eating alone on his first day of school.

To Luke, it was an active choice, a choice he made because he needed the space. To Jace, it was impossible to comprehend the thought of anyone wanting to make such a choice at all.

And just by that alone, it was clear that over the years it had become impossible for Jace to comprehend Luke altogether.

There was no malicious intention behind the look, Luke knew this. Jace would never want to purposefully make his brother feel bad about himself.

Unpurposefully he was still an expert at it.

Before Luke could crumple under it, Cregan Stark waved cheerfully from Jace’s side, grin as wide as the North.

Luke tried to smile back but it felt twisted, wrong, and he ended up throwing his salad away early, heading inside before Jace could corner him.

He tried not thinking about it for the rest of the school day, and instead focusing on listening and scribbling down notes during the last class.

By the time the final bell rang, Luke had talked himself out of expecting a reply from Aemond.

Which was why, when his phone buzzed on his walk to the bus stop and lit up with Aemond’s name, his whole stomach dropped.

His hand went numb, pins and needles running down his arm as he nearly walked straight into Rhaenys’ statue.

Aemond had replied.

Luke grinned so hard his cheeks hurt.

Maybe he was being rewarded — for braving the party, for surviving Jason, for starting over.

Maybe this was his chance.

He sent a thumbs up and put his phone back in his pocket, smiling wide in excitement. Maybe he was already being rewarded for the hard work of trying to fit in, to be better. 

The magic of the North Hill.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4

Thursday could not come fast enough.

It crawled toward him all week, a slow torture. By Wednesday night, Luke had already burned through his strawberry chapstick from overuse, spinning fantasy after fantasy about how tonight might go.

Every version ended with Aemond kissing him.

By Thursday afternoon, he was a wreck.

Aemond’s hoodie was folded with almost ceremonial care, tucked neatly inside a Tesco bag on the kitchen table, ready to be returned to its rightful owner.

Luke had showered, scrubbed, even conditioned his hair (a mistake, as it turned out — the curls had gone rogue and refused to cooperate). The bathroom looked like a war zone: shaving cream and hair products scattered across the counter, the musky cologne their father favored knocked on its side like a casualty.

Luke leaned against the sink, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth, staring at himself in the mirror.

Pathetic.

Reminded of the toothbrush then he took it out and spit out the toothpaste he had still managed to keep inside his mouth, wiping away the remainders coating his lips with the back of his hand.

“Look at you getting all prettied up.” Jace stood leaning against the doorframe, giving Luke a taunting smirk. “Who’s the lucky guy?”

Luke tried ignoring him, but his palms were already sweaty as an edgy, nervous irritation coursed through him.

“You’ve been in here for two hours.” He scoffed.

“Shut up.” Luke muttered, his eyes narrowing at Jace’s easy amusement at his suffering.

“What have you done to your hair mate?” Jace continued, walking up to him and ruffling his little brother’s loose curls, making them even messier. “It looks like shit.”

Jace wouldn’t know what it was like as his own curls had always been effortlessly perfect like their father’s. 

“Get out!” Luke shoved at Jace, which didn’t really result in much. It was as if trying to move a mountain.

“Oh come on, I'm just teasing you. Here, let me help…” Jace didn’t wait for Luke’s approval as he opened one of the drawers and pulled out his hair paste.

“I don’t need your help.” Luke sniped as he tried putting some of the unruly strands back in place, a useless battle.

“Oh but you so clearly do.” Jace shook his head as if Luke was the difficult one and reached for his hair. “Come off it, let me have a go.” 

Deflating a little, Luke scrunched his face up, gaze falling to the ground as he held still while Jace began hugging his curls with large, sticky hands. 

They stood in silence for a few minutes, the only sound coming from the TV in the living room. The moment resembled a past they had once shared, a past where there had been no tension or resentment between them.

He glanced up to look at his brother and found that he was looking straight back at him intently, a slight goading smile displayed on his lips. 

Lucerys shifted where he stood, a new spike of irritation running through him at the knowing way Jace was regarding him, as though he’d figured out how nervous his younger brother was.

He started chewing on the inside of his lip and clenching his jaw shut so as not to give his brother so much as a whisper of a sign it was bothering him.

“Is it… the guy you met at the party you are seeing tonight?” 

Luke tensed at the question, but also at the sudden shift in Jace’s low tone catching him by surprise. He nodded slowly while keeping his eyes averted, remaining guarded.

“He’s… nice to you? Right?”

It was his voice which had turned from serious to almost worrying now that made Luke glance up at his brother again, and as he looked into Jace’s deep brown eyes he saw it there too.

“Yeah,” It made him stand up a little straighter. “he is.”

He watched Jace smile grow and soften at the edges as his eyes turned back to focus on working the product with his fingertips.

“Good.”

A wave of shame washed over Luke then, because Jace didn’t know it was Aemond they were talking about. Didn’t know that his mortal enemy was the person Lucerys wanted to look pretty for.

Jacaerys had never known about his brother’s feelings for his former friend.

After the fallout, Lucerys had never been expected nor did he want to get involved even if he’d been curious. He still was curious. Picking a side had been a no brainer, at least it had been back then. 

Things had changed since then though. Jace had changed. Lucerys had changed.

Still going to meet with Aemond behind Jace’s back felt like a betrayal in a way. 

It made his chest burn.

“All done!” Jace smacked his sticky hands together, making Luke jerk out of his own thoughts.

He looked at himself in the mirror. At his enhanced curls, tight yet slightly swept in a more laid-back fashion. Not quite like Jace’s hair, not like their father’s, but something closer to it. 

It looked exactly like he had wanted it to.

“It’s the Strong curls, they make the girls…” Jace winked. “and boys go crazy.”

Some of Luke’s embarrassment along with the shame eased a little. He rolled his eyes but he couldn’t help the smile that grew on his lips.

“You’re welcome.” Jacaerys said then, a twinkle in his eye.

An hour later, Luke tried to consciously relax his shoulders as he stepped through the hole in the bush surrounding the Red Mansion. With the Tesco bag in his arms, he dodged the branches to keep from ripping his favorite black jeans or the dark blue flannel he had taken too long a time to decide on.

He had to admit he felt a bit embarrassed as he sneaked into the garden of the most luxurious house in all of King’s Landing, and it deepened as he was forced to creep around the garage towards the pool house like a criminal on the prowl or… another one of Aemond’s nookies.

Based on the relaxed and almost rehearsed way Aemond had directed Luke to leave through the hole in the bush the morning after the party had made it quite clear that Lucerys wasn't his first overnight “guest".

Lucerys might've been a virgin but he wasn't a damn fool.

He flushed red at where the thoughts had spiraled and prayed to the Seven Gods no one would make any of the two assumptions if they caught sight of him. 

As he approached the pool house he caught sight of Aemond through the big windows. He was in the middle of pulling a white t-shirt over his broad shoulders, his muscular back turned.

Goodness.

Luke walked up to the door, took in a silent breath and held it, before knocking.

Aemond turned around and… fuck.

A thrum of anticipation ran through Luke, zinging through his body, as he watched the tall, silver boy through the glass approaching him.

Aemond opened the door with a tired, blurry eye, looking soft and rumpled in the best possible way in black loungewear, more handsome than ever.

Vhagar immediately appeared by his side, wiggling with excitement and wagging her tail as she looked up at Luke.

Aemond was also gazing at him but with an expression Luke couldn’t read. They stared at each other for a few moments and Luke felt heat flush his cheeks.

Then he realized, ungluing his lips to let his mouth hang slightly open, that the other boy was not wearing the black leather that usually covered his left eye. Instead Luke could see the scar in its entirety for the first time.

Where there once had been a violet eye, was now a blue gemstone.

He had only heard rumors about the stone. It was a breathtaking and tragic thing to get to witness up close for real.

Lucerys felt his chest go tight, any sort of word he might have had on his mind dying before reaching his lips.

He was mesmerized, almost entranced by the shimmering blue that he forgot himself.

Aemond must have caught on because he broke eye contact first and ducked his head away almost apologetically while covering the scar with his hand.

“Come in.” He mumbled and turned back inside.

Luke cringed internally, realizing what he had done, and as he followed Aemond inside he stumbled over an apology. “I’m-I’m s-sorry I stared.”

Oh this wasn’t a good start.

Vhagar jumped at him and licked at his hands to get his attention. Luke stroked her head while keeping his gaze on Aemond who turned around at his words.

“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Luke shifted from foot to foot nervously where he stood while purposefully not looking away from Aemond’s face, and the gaping hole in it.

“That’s my line.” Aemond chuckled but it was one without humor. “It’s fine, I get it. You are not the first one to-”

“I think it’s beautiful!” Lucerys spluttered out without thinking then, and as his mind caught up, his cheeks were put to flames as he blushed.

Oh shit...

Shit. 

No, no, no.

Why did he say that? Why did his tongue have to take advice from his brain in a moment like this?

He needed to save the situation, save himself from certain demise.

“The- the blue stone. I like it. Wha-What is it?”

Aemond looked at him with an arched brow, slowly moving his hand away from his face and easing up a bit. “It’s a sapphire.”

Luke nodded vigorously, his free hand focused on petting Vhagar to keep from fidgeting.

He didn’t allow a moment of silence by lifting his other hand holding the Tesco bag with the Tully and Co shirt folded neatly inside.

He handed over the bag. “I, um… washed it. Twice.”

Aemond’s mouth quirked — almost a smile, though it didn’t quite reach his eye.

“Thank you uhm, for letting me borrow your shirt, for letting me stay here and… well, for everything really.”

“It’s fine.” Aemond said, voice low and even as he took the bag from him.

The time had come for Lucerys to leave.

He knew he’d been an idiot to think that this could have led somewhere. Clearly that was not how this story would play out, how the two of them were ever going to end up as anything else than on opposite teams of Jace.

No one flirted with the brother of their mortal enemy anyhow.

“I wanted to apologize for it.” Luke said then, feeling tense and awkward but not wanting to waste the last of the time he had with Aemond before parting ways, most likely forever. Still, he began another one of his rambling sprees. "I know you probably didn’t want to help me, considering who I am and- uhm… I made you leave the party early when you could've had fun with your friends and so you took care of me and I didn’t deserve that since I drank way too much and should not have been there in the first pla-"

Aemond flicked his nose then, stunning him to shocked silence.

“Has anyone ever told you that you talk… like, a lot?” Aemond shook his head, a hint of amusement on his lips.

Luke rubbed at his nose, not believing what just happened. What he knew to be the absolute truth though was that his face was on fire.

“Once or twice.” 

Aemond snorted slightly as he turned his back to Luke and walked over to his bed where he threw the Tesco bag before heading for his closet, disappearing behind the door of it.

Lucerys took the opportunity to catch a few breaths to recover as he looked around the familiar room. 

He found the coffee table covered with notebooks, pencils and eraser dust. A new Macbook was open on one of the cloudcouch cushions.

“You’re studying?” He asked.

“I have an assignment in Advanced Valyrian for tomorrow. I have to give a short speech about a topic and,” Aemond replied as he closed the closet doors and approached him, now with his hoodie in his hands, speaking again. “It’s not going swell…”

He handed the hoodie to Luke, who saw a chance, and decided to take it.

“Do you want me to take a look at it?” 

Aemond considered Luke for a moment before answering.

“Uhm. Yeah, sure.”

The colors of the sunset flooded the pool-house as Aemond took a seat on the couch and gestured for Luke to sit as well. Luke folded himself into the white, fluffy seat close to the other boy but made sure there were comfortable space between them. 

It was close enough for Luke to catch Aemond in all of his marvelous scent mixed with the flowers from his clothing. His cologne had an airy tone with the hint of something similar to burning wood. 

It suited him.

Luke watched Aemond pull his hair up into a bun at the back of his head which instantly emphasized the strength of his brow and the cut of his jaw, sending a tingle down his spine.

The silver boy placed his laptop on the table in front of them, showcasing a drive document open with half an A4 of work scribbled down.

Luke got down to work. 

Scanning the glyphs on the screen, he silently moved his lips as he read through the speech. The topic Aemond had chosen seemed to be about the political tragedy of the Clash of Kings. 

An interesting choice, surprising even.

Luke’s heart began to skip faster when he realized Aemond’s gaze was intent on his face as he read.

“So…” Aemond asked after a while, leaning in even closer. “What do you think? Is it shit?”

“Well, uhm no.” Lucerys avoided eye contact as he scrolled to the top of the document, thinking. “Not bad. There’s some grammatical errors but they are easy to fix.”

“Do you… have time to help me fix it?”

Lucerys shivered, his heart flipping over again. “Sure.” He croaked back, his mouth dry.

Time passed and darkness fell. The lights from the pool began casting the back patio in a shimmering blue glow, matching the gemstone in Aemond’s eye.

“In Valyrian, the adjective always comes before the noun. So for example here,” Luke pointed at the last line of the document. “You need to move the first word to the end of the sentence and change its present tense.”

“Right.” Aemond typed away on the keyboard with long, slender fingers and Luke took the opportunity of admiring him in his deep concentration. “Like this?”

“Exactly.” Luke looked at the text, then back at Aemond and smiled in confirmation.

The silver boy nodded and his mouth twitched up into a little grin as he leaned back on the couch and tugged his hair out of its bun, letting his silver hair fall over his shoulders, tired and worn but content.

“How’s your dad doing?” Came a genuine question, asked after a minute of more comfortable silence than usual.

Any mention of his father made Lucerys anxious, an instinctual reaction he hadn’t quite grown accustomed to yet.

This time was no different. Anxiety roared up inside him.

“He’s… hanging in there.” Lucerys had trouble forming the words and he turned his gaze down as he finally got them out.

“He’s still in treatment?”

Luke nodded, chewing at his lip and feeling twitchy. He could still feel Aemond’s eye on him. “He’s coming home on Monday though, for a while at least.”

There was another long pause.

“How’s Joffrey and Jace then?”

Aemond wasn’t stupid mentioning both of the other Strong brothers in the same sentence. Luke wasn’t either though, seeing right through it.

“They’re fine… I guess.”

“You guess? You and Jace used to be as thick as thieves.” 

“Yeah, well, things change. People change.” Luke muttered, eyes down on his lap, fists clenched on top of it. 

He didn’t need the reminder, he was grieving that loss more than anyone.

“He doesn’t seem to have changed much…” Aemond had apparently taken notice. “Except in terms of hockey skills I guess. I heard he’s pretty good now.”

Luke couldn't help falling into idle, slightly envious thoughts of Jace, popular and sought after, turning things in his favor with a simple smile -- until he was brought back by the sound of his own name.

“Lucerys?” 

Fuck...

The way Aemond said his whole name...

“Yeah, I- I should probably get home. It’s getting late.” 

Aemond followed him to the door, oblivious to Luke's loss, and opened it for him.

“Yeah, oh. Are you doing anything on Saturday afternoon?” Aemond asked making Luke turn around, heart skipping a beat. “We are playing a home-game against the Lions, if you want to come.”

Luke swallowed hard, his blood thundering past his ears. He was stunned, and so twitchy from adrenaline that he couldn’t cobble together an immediate response. He just kept staring at Aemond as time seemed to stretch out between them.

“Yeah! I mean no,” He finally managed, hands trembling on his burgundy hoodie he clutched to his chest. His pulse was going haywire, mind in overdrive as he tried to process what Aemond had just asked him. “I am not doing anything. I mean, I can-”

“Cool.” Aemond nodded. “Thanks again for the help with my homework.”

Luke dared a faint smile before he gave Vhagar one last pet and left the pool-house. 

He struggled through the dark to find his way through the hole in the bush, his mind not functioning properly making itself useless in terms of basic needs such as navigation. 

No but his mind was dancing to the song of Aemond’s last words.

He almost skipped down the street towards the station in absolute delight, giggled by his lonesome on the platform waiting on the train and later cursing the vicious non-existent wifi service on the ride home as he wanted to text and ask Rhaena to come to the game with him, and so he had to patiently wait to arrive at Street of Sisters.

As he skipped up the stone steps from the underground station, he got his phone out to text his best friend.

A new notification shone on his screen.

Shit.

Holy shit.

Aemond had followed him. 

Maybe it could lead somewhere after all, maybe this story could play out the way he wished, maybe the two of them could end up as anything else than on opposite teams of Jace.

He hoped.

---

Lucerys spent all of Friday thinking about Saturday.

Rhaena had texted back immediately, thrilled at the idea of going to watch the Dragons play — not-so-secretly because Hugh Hammer would be there.

Friday night, Luke babysat Joffrey. They made tacos together, then fell asleep on the couch during a Marvel marathon, Joffrey curled against Luke’s side.

Luke liked moments like this — quiet ones. Joffrey carried the best of both their parents in him, the parts that didn’t hurt to remember.

Jace came home late — two a.m. late — stumbling through the apartment with Sara Snow giggling behind him. Giggling turned to whispering, whispering turned to kissing, and Luke cursed the thin walls as he yanked his pillow over his head.

Eventually, sleep won.

Saturday morning, Joffrey left to spend the weekend at their grandfather’s. Luke waved from the doorway, heart tugging as the car disappeared down the street.

Then he was alone.

He spent the morning plowing through homework like it might keep his nerves in check. Around noon, he showered, trying to shake off the leftover heaviness from Friday.

When he caught sight of himself in the hallway mirror, he almost smiled.

Teal jumper to bring out his eyes, white shirt layered underneath, dark jeans. Winter jacket, gloves, sneakers. Practical, but good.

He had learned long ago how cold hockey rinks could get.

“Where the hell are you going?”

Luke froze. Jace stood at the end of the hallway, hair a disaster, standing in nothing but boxers, clearly hungover.

“To hang out with Rhaena,” Luke said, pulling on his shoes and trying not to sound defensive.

“It’s August,” Jace said, like it was a crime.

“Thanks for reminding me,” Luke snapped, slamming the door behind him.

Rhaena picked him up and drove them up the South Hill half an hour before the game. The queue outside the arena was long, many bright red or black supporters showing up for their favorite teams with team shirts and facepaint on.

Half an hour later they reached the arena, joining the line of fans in bright reds and blacks, faces painted, jerseys proudly worn.

Rhaena had dressed up too, in a red not-so-subtle coat. Lucerys couldn’t stop himself from teasing her about it and Rhaena in turn shoved at him and blushed dearly. 

“Why did you want to watch this game again?” Rhaena asked as they filed in. “You hate hockey.”

“I don’t hate hockey,” Luke said, lying through his teeth, then softened it with, “I just thought it’d be fun. And I want to support you in your love quest.”

Rhaena beamed, shimmering with happiness, and Luke tried to ignore the guilt curling in his chest. He did want to be here for her — he just also wanted something for himself.

Someone.

The King’s Hand arena was breathtaking. The rink gleamed under harsh white light, boards shining, air smelling of popcorn and grilled hamburgers. The cold bit pleasantly at Luke’s nose.

Nostalgia hit like a sucker punch. He’d grown up in stadiums like this, sitting in bleachers with sticky soda fingers, cheering Jace on whether he wanted to or not.

He and Rhaena grabbed sodas and french hot dogs before taking their seats near the Dragons’ goal — her choice, but Luke didn’t complain. This meant he could watch Aemond skate in and out from his team’s box the entire game without having to turn his head. Just as he was doing now.

Aemond caught a water bottle thrown by one of the twins, pushed his cage up, and drank. His single violet eye found Luke in the stands, and Luke’s breath caught.

Slightly sweaty and rosy from warming up, the player looked delicious in his red and black hockey jersey, it made Lucerys feel feelings requiring his assistance if it pressed on much further.

After tossing the bottle back over the board Aemond threw Luke a quick smirk, pulled the cage down over his face again to turn and skate out onto the ice to practice some more slapshots with the rest of his team before game start.

Lucerys felt jittery at the attention, at Aemond’s reaction to him being there. He had to purse his lips to keep from sheepishly smiling at all of the hopeful happiness that warmed him up despite the chill of the arena.

“For whatever reason he got thrown in that pool, he probably deserved it,” Rhaena muttered.

Luke blinked, dragged out of his trance.

She was looking at the Lions’ bench, where Jason Lannister sat in a red warmup suit. Luke’s stomach twisted. He’d almost managed to forget Jason, to forget the balcony.

“Do you know who—?”

“No one knows,” Rhaena said, shrugging. “Could’ve been anyone.”

Luke barely had time to process that before the sound he dreaded most cut through the noise.

Jace’s laugh.

He turned his head in time to see his brother climbing the bleachers with half the Wolves roster at his heels.

“Oh, look! It’s Jace!” Rhaena beamed and stood up to wave.

Luke tried to stop her but it was too late. Jace was already looking at them.

Not surprised.

Not even curious.

Just knowing.

“The Wolves are here to chirp,” Rhaena said, settling back in her seat.

“What?” Luke muttered, his jaw tight.

“Trash talk. Get in the Dragons’ heads so they mess up.”

Luke’s stomach turned over. Jace hadn’t just come to watch — he’d come to ruin it. To ruin this.

He looked up just as the whistle blew. Aemond skated toward the box for a final huddle, glanced up — and saw Jace.

Luke felt the air leave his lungs.

Aemond’s expression hardened.

For a second, it was just Aemond and Jace staring each other down across the ice and Luke wasn’t even there.

Never had been.

And it hurt.

When the puck dropped, Luke barely registered the game. Aemond was playing harder, meaner, his hits crunching, his passes sharp.

The Wolves kept banging on the glass, shouting insults: “Hoser!” “Cyclop!” Anything to break him.

It didn’t work.

Aemond scored three goals.

And each time, he made the fire-breathing gesture — not toward Luke, but toward Jace.

Like a challenge.

Like a declaration of war.

Luke felt like the spoils of it.

By the time the Lions won by one goal, Luke felt hollowed out, wrung dry.

He didn’t wait for Jace, didn’t look for Aemond. He slipped out of the stands and hid under the bleachers, staring blankly at his phone until the arena began to empty.

He saw Jace leave with the Wolves, laughing. Happy to have accomplished his mission to ruin everything.

Saw Aemond storm out next, still in his gear.

And felt stupid for ever thinking there could have been anything between them.

“The Lions are celebrating tonight!” Rhaena sang as she found him, glowing with post-game bliss, Hugh Hammer’s hand in hers.

Luke barely had time to react before an arm slid casually over his shoulder.

“Thought I smelled something sweet.”

Jason Lannister.

Grinning. Too close.

“The party’s at my place. You coming?”

Luke nodded.

Because what else was there to do?

He let himself be pulled away, left the arena — and whatever hope he’d been holding — behind.

Oh... And he really, truly did hate hockey.

Chapter Text

Chapter 5

Lucerys was pissed in two ways, stumbling around the Lion's party.

He kept scrolling up and down his DM history with Aemond, considering if he should write to him or not.

He really shouldn’t.

Not after Aemond so easily had turned his attention from him to Jace in less than a heartbeat.

Still, there was an itch and he wanted to scratch it, wanted to voice his frustrations, to write and ask Aemond why… 

Why couldn’t it be him? Why did it always have to be Jace?

The Lannister mansion was crowded with West Hillers, bodies packed closely dancing together and celebrating the Lions’ first win of the season. 

Luke followed Rhaena through the crowd, soda still in hand, feeling half-invisible and half-exposed all at once.

He shouldn’t have come.

He told himself he was here for Rhaena — to make sure she had fun, to watch her blush when Hugh Hammer smiled at her — but deep down, he knew he was punishing himself.

He wanted to drown out the hollow ache the game had left in his chest.

Rhaena disappeared quickly, dragged toward the living room by Hugh.

Luke let himself be pushed toward the kitchen by the crush of people. Someone had opened the patio doors, letting in a blast of cool night air that smelled like chlorine and cigarette smoke.

The noise was too loud, the heat too stifling, the laughter too sharp.

Luke’s phone buzzed with a text from Jace — where are you? — and he shoved it back into his pocket without replying.

He moved toward the kitchen, wanting another drink.

Jason leaned against the doorframe like he’d been waiting for him.

“Well, well. Strong.”

Luke’s stomach flipped, but he forced his face neutral. “Jason.”

“You look better tonight,” he said, his tone almost teasing. “Not so skittish.”

Luke’s cheeks burned.

Jason’s hand brushed his elbow, then his waist, slowly, like he was testing boundaries.

Luke stayed still.

Maybe he wanted this — not Jason, but the attention, the distraction, the way it made him feel something other than invisible.

Jason leaned in. “You’re cute when you’re quiet.”

The two of them were interrupted by a few cheers and shouts from the other room, and Jason smiled and suggested they’d go investigate.

Lucerys followed, feeling much more relaxed as it seemed Jason didn’t hold a grudge against him about what had happened the last time they’d shared a drink.

He stuck close to the Lion, the idea of making Aemond jealous constantly riling him on. He took another swig of his drink as they went to the living room, where a whole cluster of people were gathered around the table watching others play a round of Ride the Bus. 

He happily joined in on the chorus of “Oh’s” when someone had to take a shot, his head feeling light and pleasantly fuzzy as he laughed with Jason and the others.

Being reminded the moment a Lion made a toast for the day's win, Luke went to pull out his phone out of his jeans to see if Aemond had texted him yet, his hand clumsily missing the pocket on the first attempt.

Just before he managed to fish it out, Jason’s arm slid around Luke’s shoulders, warm and heavy, pulling him close.

“You’re pretty wasted, huh?” Jason murmured against his ear.

Luke nodded, letting the older boy keep him upright, dizzy and buzzing from the alcohol. Jason’s hand slipped lower, guiding Luke toward the stairs.

“Let’s get you somewhere quiet,” Jason said, his breath hot on Luke’s neck.

Luke hesitated. Aemond’s warning echoed in his head — stay away from Jason Lannister — but what did Aemond know about what Luke wanted? What did anyone know?

So he nodded, sheepish and pink-cheeked, letting Jason lead him upstairs.

The bedroom door clicked shut behind them, the music from downstairs muffled now, just a faint bassline under the sound of Luke’s quick breathing.

Jason kissed him before he could think, hands braced on either side of Luke’s head.

Luke kissed him back, startled by the force of it, fingers clutching at Jason’s shirt to steady himself. Jason tasted like beer and peppermint, messy and a little rough, and Luke let himself melt into it, his body humming.

Jason deepened the kiss, one hand slipping to Luke’s waist, the other tilting his chin just so.

Luke’s knees went weak.

It felt good — reckless and new and distracting, like standing too close to fire.

Then Jason pulled back, just enough to look him in the eye.

“So tell me,” he said, tone turning sly, “who pushed me off that balcony?”

Luke blinked, thrown.

Jason’s grip at his waist tightened. “Come on. Everyone says it was Aemond. Was it?”

Luke’s pulse roared in his ears.

“Focus,” Jason said softly, almost amused. “Was it him?”

“I dowknow.” Luke’s words came out misshapen under Jason’s grip, his cheeks squished helplessly between Jason’s fingers.

But he did know. Jason knew he knew, too — his attempts at avoiding the truth were useless.

“Wrong answer.” Jason chuckled darkly and pulled Luke forward, throwing him lazily onto the bed.

“Have you fucked anyone before, sweet thing?” Jason murmured against his ear as he climbed on top of him, his breath hot, his tone almost indulgent.

Luke blushed furiously and shook his head.

He could feel Jason smile against his cheek at that.

“Has anyone fucked you, Luke?”

Another shake of the head.

God, Luke thought, shame burning through him, I’m such a loser.

Still, Jason grinned down at him and kissed him again, harder this time, his warm hands shoving Luke’s jumper and shirt up to his chest.

Then lower, fingers tugging at the waistband of his jeans, sliding both denim and underwear down

Luke gasped and squeezed his eyes shut.

He was so damn drunk.

A flash burst behind his eyelids then — was it the light from the hallway leaking in? — another flash.

Then, his phone buzzed.

Luke pushed at Jason's chest to reach down to his jeans pocket further down his thighs. He fumbled clumsily for it, screen lighting up.

Aemond.

Luke’s breath hitched.

The haze cleared just enough for him to sit upright and yank his clothes back into place.

“I… I have to go,” Luke stammered.

Jason swore, grabbing for him, but Luke was already at the door, stumbling down the stairs two at a time.

Outside, the cool air hit him like a slap.

He unlocked his phone with shaking hands.

Aemond’s name still glowed on the screen like a beacon.

Despite the drunken haze tugging him under, Luke somehow managed to get from one hill to another in under an hour.

The train ride was a blur — bright lights, rushing tunnels, his reflection in the window staring back at him like he was someone else.

He replayed the night in his head: Jason’s grin, his questions, the way he’d nearly let it go too far.

And he felt… relieved.

Relieved to have gotten away.

Relieved that Aemond had texted when he did.

Aemond had been right — he did need to stay away from Jason Lannister.

Luke hated how much he’d wanted it — wanted him — if only to feel something.

But now Aemond needed him.

After a difficult walk from the train station, Lucerys found Aemond opening the door in loose sweats, hair falling over his shoulders, his expression set, unreadable.

He’d had a rough day, Lucerys knew, yet all that struck him was how powerfully attractive Aemond was even when he was in a lesser mood.

Straight brows, slanting cheekbones, and soft, curving lips.

“Hey,” Luke exhaled, breathless from more than just the walk. “I’m here.”

Aemond stepped aside wordlessly. On closer inspection as he passed, Lucerys noticed the other boy's bloodshot eye, his rosy cheeks.

Aemond was drunk too.

Inside, the blinds were drawn, the room dim except for the glow of a single lamp. The air felt heavy, charged.

On the coffee table lay Aemond’s speech — a fat red A scrawled on top.

Luke swayed slightly, grinning. “You did well on your speech... Sȳrī gaomagon!”

Aemond didn’t smile.

“You’re drunk,” he said flatly. “Where were you?” 

Lucerys had been no stranger to Aemond’s streaks of ill temper in the past but there was a darkness to his tone tonight, an edge. One he had never encountered before.

He had however no interest in being the punching bag for his brother’s provoking behavior, nor for anything else regarding hockey rivalry and toxic masculinity.

That is now why he had rushed all the way to the South Hill.

“At the Lion’s party,” Luke said, chin tilting in quiet defiance.

Aemond’s frown deepened, his gaze dragging slowly over Luke’s face, lingering on his mouth.

“I thought I told you to stay away from Lannister?” He asked, voice admonishing as if speaking to a child.

Luke would not take it anymore.

He was no child.

“You don’t get to tell me what I can and cannot do. Not when you don’t actually care.”

The silence that followed was sharp enough to cut.

Then Aemond moved.

One clean, fast step — and suddenly he was right there.

Close.

So so close.

Luke barely had time to suck in a breath before Aemond kissed him.

It was all teeth and heat and want, a brutal clash that had Luke moaning into his mouth before he could stop himself.

Aemond’s hand gripped his waist, pulling him flush against him, and Luke clutched at the back of his shirt like he might drown without something to hold onto.

The silver boy kissed like he played hockey, with practiced ease and unparalleled viciousness. With the fire of the dragons that are said to have been gracing his ancestors, with the Valyrian steel and heart of knights.

Luke let himself be devoured.

“I need—” Aemond broke away for just a second, voice ragged.

Lucerys opened his mouth to answer that he’d give anything Aemond ever wanted, needed, but his words were swallowed by another consuming kiss. 

Aemond then guided him backward until the backs of his knees hit the bed.

He fell, and Aemond followed.

It was the second time tonight, but this time being pushed down felt good.

This time it was real.

This time it was Aemond.

Luke stared up at him in the dim light as the silver boy pulled his own shirt over his head, displaying his marvelous chest and sharp lines of muscle in the low light of the room. He was almost shimmering. He was so beautiful.

It was all so beautiful, Aemond leaning down to plant kisses down Luke’s neck. Aemond roaming his hands underneath his shirt and up the flat plane of his stomach. Aemond’s weight between his legs and the jostle that came from the other boy pulling his sweatpants down and revealing his impressive length.

Heaving, sweating, wanting. 

Equally.

And then —

Aemond flipped him over.

The shift was rough, sudden, jolting Luke out of the dreamlike haze. His palms pressed into the mattress as Aemond's hands pulled down his pants, and underwear.

He could feel Aemond ready himself behind him, pressing his large member against his entrance.

Luke twisted his head, voice strained, reaching a hand up to cup Aemond’s cheek.  “Wait — I want to see you.”

Aemond gripped his hips, his nails digging almost painfully, before he froze.

Luke caught a flash of something in his face — rage, regret, sorrow — before it shuttered into something that looked like horror.

And then he let go.

Pulled back like he’d been burned.

“I’m sorry Jace,” Aemond said hoarsely before catching himself once more.

But it had been too late. The words sliced through Luke, leaving him hollow.

No.

No, no, no.

He lay there, shaking, as the reality sank in.

Lucerys felt it then.

The need for soothing… like a child…

Chapter Text

Chapter 6

Lucerys sat as still as he possibly could on the bed, every muscle locked.

"I'm sorry Jace." echoed in his mind.

His chest felt like it was full of wet cement — heavy, cold, impossible to breathe through.

Each quiet, shuddering gasp sounded deafening in the silence.

Aemond sat on the edge of the bed, turned away, elbows on his knees, head in his hands.

Not speaking. Not moving.

Luke wanted to leave. Wanted to disappear.

But what if he moved? What if Aemond stopped him?

What if he didn’t?

Would either hurt worse?

His eyes found his jeans on the floor, pooled right by Aemond’s foot.

For one insane second, Luke considered leaving without them. Walking all the way across the city in socks and underwear if it meant getting out of here faster.

But no — he couldn’t.

He should probably get his pants.

His body moved before he was ready, slow and deliberate.

He didn’t dare look at Aemond as he crouched, as he pulled the jeans on one leg at a time with shaking hands, buttoned them with his mouth slightly open, his face blank.

Tears slid hot and silent down his cheeks.

It was over.

Everything he’d been holding onto since that night at the party — the way Aemond had looked at him, the way Luke had believed it meant something. That it had been the beginning of them. He’d realized first now that it had been the beginning of the end.

Luke stood on unsteady legs and made for the door.

He’d pick up his hoodie and sneakers on the way out. If not, he’d walk barefoot home if he had to.

He just needed to be gone.

He passed Aemond. No reaction.

For a heartbeat, he thought he’d make it.

Then a hand closed around his wrist, spinning him back around.

The grip was rough — the same roughness from earlier — and it made his stomach lurch.

“Wait, Lucerys.”

Aemond’s voice was raw, almost pleading.

“Let me go.” Luke’s voice broke, face wet with tears.

A moment of Aemond taking in his state in true horror of him being responsible for it.

“Please. Just—just hear me out.”

Aemond’s other hand caught his free wrist, drawing him closer, too close, until Luke could feel the warmth of his breath.

It was unbearable.

“Little Luke? Is that you?”

The voice hit them both like a slap.

Aemond’s grip loosened instantly, and Luke stumbled back a step, pulling free.

Aegon Targaryen, oldest son of the Targaryen family, stood in the doorway looking like he’d been awake too long and drinking too much.

Luke saw his opportunity to flee.

He grabbed his hoodie, his sneakers, and bolted for the door.

By the time he rounded the pool house, his hands were shaking so badly he almost dropped his shoes.

Behind him, Aemond’s voice rose, sharp and venomous:

“Why do you always have to get in the fucking way?”

Luke didn’t look back.

---

As he finally got home, he wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed and disappear.

All the alcohol had burned out of his system, leaving behind only the bone-deep exhaustion and a hollow, aching sadness.

He needed sleep. Needed to leave earth for a while.

But as he climbed the stairs of the apartment complex, faint bass thumped through the walls — and when he reached their door, his worst fear was confirmed.

Jace was throwing a party.

Goddamn it.

Luke needed a good 10 minutes to collect himself, taking deep breaths and drying his tearstained eyes before daring to enter.

When he finally stepped inside, the kitchen was crowded with strangers mixing drinks. The living room was louder — Jace was tangled up with Sara on the couch while four of his teammates shouted over a beer pong match.

Luke slipped down the hall without being seen, peeking into Joffrey’s room.

The boy was fast asleep, undisturbed by the music and laughter outside.

Luke’s lips curved faintly. Joffrey’s quiet breathing was the only innocent thing left in the house tonight, and Luke wanted to protect it, keep it safe.

He envied him — envied the way he could still believe in people, in the world, in dreams.

Luke used to be like that once. Before things started hurting in so many directions he didn’t know where to begin healing.

With a quiet sigh, he shut Joffrey’s door and went to his own room — desperate for privacy, for the good cry he could feel swelling in his chest.

But when he opened the door, his room wasn’t empty.

Cregan Stark stood in front of the bookshelf, a beer in one hand, scanning the spines. He turned when Luke entered and grinned, raising his cup.

“Hey, little man!”

“He—hey…” Luke stammered, startled and not exactly pleased.

“Sorry for barging in. Your brother’s being disgustingly in love out there and I needed a break.” Cregan nodded toward the shelves. “You have an impressive collection.”

A small, unexpected warmth bloomed in Luke’s chest — not enough to stay, but enough to take the edge off the ache.

“It’s okay,” Luke said softly, closing the door behind him and shutting out the party noise. “You read?”

“I try to,” Cregan admitted, rubbing at the back of his neck. “I just started getting into fantasy. Tried reading A Song of Ice and Fire but man — the incest really threw me off.”

Luke actually snorted, despite himself.

Cregan grinned and pointed at the books with his cup. “You’ve got good taste.”

Luke shrugged, but there was the faintest smile on his lips. “I don’t know about that.”

He crossed the room, tossing his burgundy hoodie over the back of his chair as he passed.

After a beat, he reached up, plucked a book off the shelf, and handed it to him.

“You should read this one. It’s based on mythology beyond the Wall. It’s one of my favorites.”

Cregan took it carefully, looked at the cover, then nodded with genuine awe. “Thanks. I’ll definitely read it.”

Then he looked up — really looked at Luke — and his smile faltered.

“What’s wrong?”

Luke blinked. “What do you mean?”

“You’ve been crying. Your eyes are red.”

He reached out instinctively, but Luke stepped back.

He couldn’t take pity. Not tonight. Not after everything.

Cregan froze, brows knitting with concern. “What happened?”

“Nothing. I’m fine.” Luke’s gaze dropped to the floor.

“You’re a worse liar than your brother,” Cregan said with a faint huff. He hesitated, then added quietly, “You know you can talk to me, right?”

Luke looked up at that.

Cregan’s blush was shy and unpracticed, his words clumsy but earnest.

Luke felt his own face heat.

“I know,” he said softly, and tried to smile.

Cregan’s answering nod was quick, relieved, almost proud. He bent to grab the book — promptly dropped it — and then, as if to ruin the moment completely, let out a massive burp.

The sound was so loud Luke was sure Joffrey would wake up.

But instead of annoyance, a laugh bubbled out of him — small at first, then a little bigger.

Cregan grinned sheepishly. “Shit. Sorry.”

Luke shook his head, still smiling.

And for the first time all night, it felt real.

The endorphins smoothed over the jagged edges inside him, even if just for a moment.

“I should get back out there,” Cregan said, heading for the door. “Thanks for the book. And hey — what I said still stands. If you need me, I’m here.”

“I know.”

Luke watched him go.

The moment with Cregan had been enough to warm him up for the rest of the night it felt. 

He’d fall asleep not shortly after despite the party right outside his room and despite the gaping hole Aemond had left in him.

---

Lucerys spent the rest of the weekend exactly as he had planned — in bed, curtains drawn, phone face-down.

Rhaena texted, called, even sent voice notes that grew progressively more dramatic, but Luke ignored them all. He didn’t want to talk to her. Didn’t want to talk to anyone.

When Jace barged into his room on Sunday afternoon just to annoy him, Luke simply turned toward the wall and pretended to be asleep.

By Sunday evening, his phone lit up with notifications — Aemond’s name flashing on the screen over and over again. Luke didn’t touch it. He didn’t want to know what excuses Aemond had thought up, didn’t want to open the wound again.

He just let it sit there on the nightstand, next to Kingdom of the Sky, dogeared halfway through.

Monday passed in a blur.

School felt dull, muted, as if someone had turned the volume down on everything.

Rhaena cornered him at lunch, scolding him for ditching her at the party and then ghosting her all weekend.

Luke apologized, and to his relief, that was enough. Rhaena forgave quickly — she always did.

But as the day dragged on, Luke grew more distracted.

Because today, his father was coming home.

By the time the bus pulled up to their stop, Luke was already halfway out the door.

He sprinted up the stairs to their apartment, practically tearing the door open — and there he was.

Harwin Strong.

Bundled in pillows and blankets on the living room couch, a glass of water and pill bottles and a bucket with a knife on the coffee table beside him.

Luke’s father turned his head as Joffrey popped up behind the backrest of the sofa beside him. They both welcomed him with warm smiles and Luke had never been so happy to be home.

His chest squeezed tight at the sight.

“Dad!”

He was on his knees beside the couch in a second, throwing his arms around his father.

Harwin chuckled and hugged him back, big arms careful but still strong despite the bandages.

“Lucerys, my boy,” he rumbled, and Luke swallowed hard against the lump in his throat.

The only constant in his life was here. Finally home.

Greyscale was a brutal, harrowing disease — but they had caught it early. It hadn’t reached his father’s heart or lungs. He would probably be okay.

Luke held on just a little longer before pulling back, smiling through watery eyes.

The rest of the evening was perfect in its simplicity.

Takeout spread across the table, cooking shows on TV, the three of them catching up.

When Jace got home from hockey practice, he ran inside like a little kid and launched himself onto the couch to hug their father just like Luke had.

Watching Jace’s face soften, seeing him become a boy again in Harwin’s arms, made Luke’s heart ease toward his brother for the first time in weeks.

For a while, things felt normal.

Like they used to be.

Luke wanted to hold onto that feeling forever.

Later that night, Luke unlocked his phone to take a picture of them together.

“Smile!” he called, and the flash lit the room.

For a split second, something twisted in his chest — a memory he didn’t want, something he’d buried deep.

He pushed it back down where it belonged.

He was in control now.

And he was going to make the now worthwhile.

When he wasn’t in school or at home with his dad, Luke started looking for a job.

Something to fill the hours, something that would make him feel capable, responsible — not just the boy who sat in his room waiting for texts from someone who might never choose him.

He took the bus around to all three hills, going door to door.

Some places asked for a CV. Most told him they weren’t hiring.

But no one was rude.

And every smile he got, every “good luck, kid” as he walked out the door, built something small but steady in him.

Hope.

Chapter Text

Chapter 7

The Strong family filed into North Hill Arena to watch the Wolves and Lions clash.

Another goddamn hockey match, Luke thought as they paid for the tickets.

He had to admit, though — the stadium was impressive. Built into the Dragonpit’s ancient stone beside the education grounds, it stitched past and present together: long sides of the rink backed by timber bleachers laid against ruin, short ends a mosaic of gray seating shaped into a wolf’s head.

Luke gripped his father’s arm, steadying him on one side while the crutch took the other. Music pulsed; the air smelled like cold, metal, fryer oil, and sugar. Supporters swarmed in gray and green, caps and wolf-ear headbands bobbing through the aisles.

Everyone looked happy to be here. Everyone except Luke. He wanted to be anywhere else but at a Wolves vs Lions game. 

But when he caught his father's eyes — bright, grateful, soaking in every familiar face — and he let the selfishness go. Harwin had always been there for all of them, loudest in the stands, never missing a game. Even now, barely steady on his feet, he’d insisted on coming to watch his son play. If normal was what his father wanted, Luke could give him that.

He led Harwin and Joffrey to their reserved seats — first row behind the Wolves’ box, their name taped to the backrests. Luke watched Sara Snow wave from a few rows up toward Jace, who was warming up with Cregan on the ice. Cregan clocked Luke and lifted a giant glove in greeting.

The music and chatter blurred. Luke focused on the Wolves below and didn’t notice the presence behind him until it was too late.

“What a surprise!” Harwin boomed. “So good to see you again. You’ve grown, Aemond.”

Fuck.

Luke’s stomach dropped, his left hand going pins-and-needles where it braced his father.

“Mr. Strong,” Aemond’s voice came from far too close, velvet over steel. “How are you?”

“Living up to my name,” Harwin scoffed. “Day by day. But enough about me. How’s the family?”

Luke chewed his lip. He could feel Aemond’s gaze on him, palpable as touch.

“I’m well, thank you,” Aemond said, polite. “Family’s fine.”

“Here to watch Jace?” Harwin asked, still blissfully ignorant of the rift between once-best friends.

“I am,” Aemond replied — intentional, pointed — and Luke had to will himself not to flinch.

“Dad, you need to sit. Your back.” Luke’s hiss carried an edge he meant for Aemond — the audacity of pretending the pool-house hadn’t happened, of planting himself once more like some fixed star Luke could never reach.

“Please, let me—” Aemond started, then slipped to Harwin’s other side. Suddenly Luke was face to face with him as they lowered Harwin together, one of Aemond’s hands on Harwin’s arm, the other on his back.

“Thanks, boys, but I’m not made of glass,” Harwin grumbled, settling. “Totally fine.”

Joffrey tugged Luke’s sleeve. “Thirsty.”

“Oh, seven hells, the drinks,” Harwin said, moving like he might stand again. Luke stopped him with a hand to his shoulder.

“It’s okay, Dad. I’ve got it.”

“I’ll join you,” Aemond said.

“I’m fine,” Luke snapped, feeling skinless.

“You need a third hand,” Aemond countered, ruffling Joffrey’s hair and nodding to Harwin before falling into step behind a reluctant Luke down the ramp towards the kiosk by the entrance.

“Wait, Lucerys. Please.” Aemond’s voice threaded through the crowd as Luke wove through the crowd. Long strides brought him even. “Hold on a second. Look at me.”

“Don’t call me that,” Luke bit out, stopping short beside the bleachers. In the same motion, Aemond’s hand closed on his arm, guiding him under it.

Aemond blinked, arrested by the heat in Luke’s eyes. Whatever speech he’d prepared stalled.

“It’s… your name?” he said, honestly thrown.

“No one calls me that. It’s Luke,” he gritted. “Let go.”

He yanked free and turned — only to be caught again, this time at the wrist. No force. A plea.

“Just hear me out.”

Something in the voice, rough with sincerity, made him hesitate.

“How—how are you?” Aemond asked.

“I’m fine,” Luke whispered to the floor, small and not fine at all.

“You haven’t answered my messages.”

Luke shook his head.

“I wanted to apologize,” Aemond said, words fumbling. “I was drunk. Frustrated. I took it out on you. I never meant to hurt you. It’s not why I wanted you there that night. I’m sorry.”

Why did you want me there? The question flared and died on Luke’s tongue. He couldn’t survive the wrong answer.

“Hey,” Aemond breathed, waiting until Luke looked up. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

Luke’s teeth pressed into his wobbly lower lip. “Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?”

Aemond scrubbed a hand at his neck, changed tack. “I heard you’re looking for a job.”

Luke’s brows pinched. How—

“Heleana owns a few restaurant chains,” Aemond said quickly. “You dropped your résumé. She wants to hire you.”

Luke’s heart kicked. “She does?”

“I told her not to.”

The hope vanished quicker than it had appeared.

“Because… I want to hire you,” Aemond rushed as he caught it on Luke's face. “I’ll pay a third more than she will. Three hundred.”

Luke stared. “For what?”

“Please tutor me in High Valyrian.”

Luke opened his mouth, closed it. Tutor him? For that much?

“I— I’m not—”

“You don’t have to answer now,” Aemond said. “Think about it. Message me?”

Luke nodded slowly.

“Okay,” Aemond said, eyes dropping to his shoes. “And… I’m sorry. Again.”

Then he was gone, and Luke stood alone under the bleachers, thoughts ricocheting with nowhere to land.

He returned balancing three Sprite Zeros, spotted Aemond across the rink with his usual crew.

Aemond wants me to tutor him? Why? Amends? A real compliment? An excuse?

He passed Harwin a cup. “Such a decent young man,” his father said fondly around a straw. Joffrey cheered as Jace wheeled with the Wolves, alive on the ice.

Luke found Jace and Criston Cole shoulder-to-shoulder for the faceoff, both right wings. Criston leaned in to say something. Jace angled his head, listening.

The whistle blew.

Jace exploded forward, drove Christon into the ice to beat him over and over again until he was pulled off of him by Cregan.

Luke shot to his feet, stunned. Across the arena, Aemond’s eye widened in the same shock — then flicked up to Luke with a small, knowing look.

---

That night, Luke knocked lightly on Jace’s door.

“Yeah,” came the answer.

Jace sat propped against his headboard, phone face-down, a bag of frozen peas pressed to a bruised eye. In the lamplight, the shiner bloomed purple and blue.

Luke winced. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Jace sighed. “The shiner’s nothing. The grounding, though…” He lifted the peas, hissed. “That stings.”

Two minutes in the box after two seconds on the clock. And now a week in his bedroom box courtesy of Harwin.

“I’m sorry,” Luke said.

Silence stretched between them, heavy with everything unsaid.

Jace dropped the peas and looked up. “Is… is Jason the guy you’ve been seeing?”

He tried to make it sound neutral. Luke heard the judgment anyway.

Luke stared at the carpet. “No. Or… yes, but not anymore.”

“He’s not someone I’d call nice,” Jace said, rubbing his temple.

“What did Cole say to you?” Luke asked, worry spiking.

“Doesn’t matter. He’s a git. Lannister's a git. Don’t see him again.”

“No, tell me.” Irritation flashed. Hadn’t he just said he wouldn’t? Why did everyone speak to him as if they ruled over him?

“Look, I’m not talking to you about your sex life,” Jace muttered. “given your… odd choices. So maybe just be more stealthy, yeah?”

The claws were out. Odd partners. The words stung; Luke felt the room tighten.

“Stealthy like you?” he shot back, thinking of Sara and the thin walls.

“Relax,” Jace warned.

Luke glanced toward the living room — Harwin asleep on the couch — then stepped fully inside and shut the door.

“I don’t need you to stick up for me. I can take care of myself. If you needed a toxic alpha outburst then at least don't blame it on me...”

“I know,” Jace deflated, shoulders dropping. “It's just... I’m your big brother. It’s my job. I know I can be a pain, but I feel protective. Of you. Of Joff.”

That landed. Something in Luke eased.

“I know,” he said again, softer.

Jace’s mouth tipped. He hesitated, then met Luke’s eyes, serious. “and you deserve better.”

Luke left after a while of the two of them bonding, lighter than he expected. Maybe things could be more like they used to be. Maybe Harwin’s presence steadied more than just their schedules.

He headed for his room, then paused by the couch. Harwin slept on his side, blanket askew, pill bottles and the bucket close by. Luke studied his father’s face — the lines, the strength.

So good to have him home. So terrifying to think about a future without him.

No. Don’t.

Three hundred silver stags. Aemond’s offer.

Luke wanted the job for himself — uni savings if scholarships failed — but more than that, for Harwin.

He bent, kissed his father’s forehead, clicked off the kitchen light, and crawled into bed. Under the covers, he opened Instagram and braved the red dot that had been there since last weekend.

An unread DM waited at the top from Jason: Wanna see you this week. I keep imagining you underneath me while I—

Luke wrinkled his nose, and scrolled down without clicking on it to read Aemond's name.

Four unread messages.

Where did you go? Please come back. I need to explain myself.

I am sorry for what I did, please talk to me!

I’m going to the game on Sunday. I know you’ll be there. I need to tell you something.

Please answer me.

And so, Lucerys did. He swallowed his pride another time around, because this time it wasn’t just for himself.

Luke could play along, be what Aemond needed for the time being. 

He could be the reminder. 

His feelings would grow colder with time, he told himself, and in a way he’d get paid for it to help his father get better faster.

He typed:

I accept your offer.

and hit send.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8

The bell above the South Hill book café chimed as Luke stepped in, heart thudding with a jittery mix of nerves and want.

Coffee and old paper. Lo-fi jazz. Pools of lamplight over dog-eared paperbacks and half-finished cappuccinos. It felt warm enough to melt the knot in his chest.

Aemond was already there, tucked into the corner with a neat stack of books. His hair gleamed like polished silver, sharper than the room deserved, gaze pinned to a page until it lifted and pinned to Luke instead.

“Lucerys,” he said, standing. “You came.”

“Well, I need the money,” Luke said, aiming for easy. It wasn’t a lie—just the safest truth.

“Of course.” Aemond gestured to the chair opposite. “Something to drink?”

“I’m fine. Let’s start.”

“Where should we begin?”

"Well, since High Valyrian is a language that weaves stories of a bygone era, rich with history and culture. I think before we delve into the grammar and vocabulary, we should start by understanding the essence of High Valyrian."

“Essence?” Aemond echoed curiously, leaning in.

Luke tried not to smile. “Essence. High Valyrian is not just a language; it's a reflection of the Valyrian civilization itself. It carries within it the nobility, artistry, and connection to dragons that defined the Valyrian Freehold. As you learn the language, you’ll also uncover the stories and beliefs of a people who once ruled over an empire."

He laid out simple phrases, their bones and history, the way a word carried more weight than its letters; Aemond listened like the room had shrunk to the space between their elbows. Time thinned. The café blurred to hush.

Two hours later, they sagged back in their chairs, pleasantly rung-out.

“Well done,” Luke said, stretching.

“I have an excellent tutor,” Aemond replied, soft grin, eye bright.

Heat climbed Luke’s neck. He hid it by fussing with his notes.

“Tea?” Aemond asked then, already signaling the server. Steam curled between them when it arrived.

“This place is lovely,” Luke said into his cup. “You come here often?”

“First time. Heleana loves it—she sent me.”

Luke’s smile tipped fonder at her name. Heleana had always been kind.

“She also said if you want the job after all, one call.”

“Would she ever pay more than three hundred silver stags?”

“No restaurant would,” Aemond said simply.

Then why do you? lingered unsaid.

---

A month unspooled on warm caffeine and colder days.

They rotated cafés and library tables, drifted from museum benches to the wind-bitten edge of Blackwater Bay. Aemond improved fast; A’s bloomed across quizzes and essays. Luke did his own homework at their sessions, bank account swelling enough to quietly cover parts of Harwin’s treatment. He never told his father.

Luke’s relationship with his brother continued to improve. A few weeks after their talk, they had slowly begun hanging out more, like playing video games together and watching movies. Jace had also started inviting him to join him whenever he was hanging out with Cregan and Sara.

Rhaena reclaimed weekends with puzzles, listening to their favorite bands and spend hours on boy-talks.

Luke gave the Lions a wide berth—Jason widest of all.

As October turned into November, the tutoring lessons with Aemond transitioned into deeper discussions, and they began to peel back the layers of their past, while sharing dreams of the future. The barriers they'd constructed slowly eroded, and a genuine sense of friendship blossomed between them.

On a brittle Wednesday afternoon they sat in lounge chairs by the pool facing each other, knees rubbing slightly against the other’s while leaves danced in the wind around them.

“Your father’s doing better,” Aemond broke the silence as he pulled his jacket closer to his body before continuing to scribble on his notebook in his lap. He shivered slightly but seemed to appreciate the fresh air.

“Yeah, he is.” Lucerys hid a smile behind his red scarf, eyes down on his assigned reading for his Westerosian History class.

“I’m glad.”

So was Lucerys. In the end, it had all worked out with the tutoring and, through that, his father’s health. He hadn’t felt this content in a while.

After a moment of silence, Luke looked up to find Aemond watching him tentatively. 

“Focus,” Luke said, tapping the notes in Aemond’s lap before dropping his gaze back down on his book.

Another patch of quiet. Then Aemond’s voice sliced gently through it.

“It’s hard to... when you’re so distracting.”

Luke’s head snapped up, breath frosting in the air.

“Excuse me?” he rasped out, incensed.

A long breath held between them.

"I mean, you are a bad study environment." Aemond said then and shrugged, setting his notebook aside and angling his knees to bracket Luke’s.

The words landed like a small, precise blow. Luke swallowed.

"I-I can leave?" He finally managed and reached for his bag. Here it was again. The pull had been good, but the push always came sooner or later.

Aemond’s eye flicked up to Luke’s and placed his hand on his. "No. I mean... You keep reminding me of something and-"

Silence.

Luke’s chest pinched. “You can’t even say it. Can't admit it even to yourself."

Aemond’s jaw tightened. “What's that's supposed to mean?"

Luke shoved his book aside, the pages fanning out. “You’ve been doing it since the party. You keep pretending I am someone I am not, and you look at me as if I am to blame for it—” He stopped short, blinking hard.

Aemond’s brows knit, his mouth pulling tight. “What are you talking about?”

Luke’s laugh came out jagged. "And then you dare sit there and act like you don’t know why I’m losing my mind over it.” He shoved his book inside his bag before standing up.

Aemond stood too but didn't move when Luke started leaving.

Halfway to the hidden walkway between the bushes Luke turned around. “That night,” he dared, voice shaking now. “We haven’t talked about it once. Not one word. You nearly—” he broke off, blinking hard, forcing the words through gritted teeth. “You hurt me that night, and then you go and pull me back, to then continue to push me away again and again as if it's some fun game.”

For a long moment, Aemond just stared at him, face unreadable, throat working like he wanted to say something but couldn’t.

Luke’s breath came sharp. “I no longer want to play.”

He slung his bag over his shoulder and aimed to walk away when Aemond spoke up.

“You have no choice,” Aemond said — too sharp, too quick.

Luke stopped, spine locking.

“You still need me.” Aemond said then with a dangerous edge. 

Luke turned, stunned. “What?"

“You need that money,” Aemond pressed, stepping closer now. His voice was calm, but his eye burned. “I know your father’s treatments aren’t free.”

The words struck like a slap.

Luke’s fingers clenched tight around his bag strap. His chest hurt, rage and humiliation rising fast. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I’m being honest,” Aemond corrected, jaw tight. “If this is you trying to end our agreement, I am just reminding you that for your father's sake, you simply can't afford to.”

Something in his tone made Luke’s breath stutter.

This wasn't Aemond.

“And don’t come to the game on Friday. We play the wolves and It’ll only end badly for everyone.”

Luke blinked at him, stunned. “You don’t get to tell me where I can go.”

“Like I said... You’re a distraction,” Aemond said simply, as if stating a fact. “Stay home, Lucerys. I’ll see you Monday.”

He said it like it was decided. Like he owned the outcome.

Aemond smiled before gesturing clearance for Luke to leave.

And with his heart hammering, Luke did.

---

Two days had passed since the poolside blowup, but the words were still ringing in Luke’s ears.

You still need me.
You can’t afford to leave.
Stay home.

Luke hated it.

He’d gone through the school days like a ghost, running over the conversation again and again, imagining all the things he should have said back.

By the time Jace burst into his room on that afternoon, already half in uniform, Luke was wound so tight it felt like his skin didn’t fit.

“You’re coming tonight, right?” Jace asked, ruffling his hair as he grabbed a clean hoodie off Luke’s chair.

Luke opened his mouth to say no. To claim homework, a headache, anything.

But then he saw it — Aemond’s face in his mind, cool and composed, telling him to stay home.

Luke smiled, small and sharp.

“Yeah,” he said. “I’m coming.”

The arena was packed as always, the noise hitting Luke like a wall the moment he stepped inside. The mood was always like this at a Wolves vs Dragons game. The two teams had been battling each other in the final for five years in a row.

He sat down with Rhaena and Sara near center ice, arms crossed tight over his chest, jacket still zipped.

When the Dragons skated out, the crowd erupted.

Luke found him instantly — the gleam of silver hair, the clean, sharp lines of his body in red and black.

As if he could feel it, Aemond’s helmeted head turned. His eye caught Luke’s and held it.

Luke didn’t look away.

Instead, he leaned back in his seat and smiled — small, deliberate — and then turned to say something to Rhaena as though Aemond wasn’t even there.

It felt good to disobey.

The first period was brutal. The Wolves were faster, meaner, and hungry. Criston Cole was chirping every time he got near the boards, and Luke could see the tension building in Jace’s shoulders from where he sat.

By the second, it was a full-on grudge match. Aemond was playing sharp, his hits coming harder, his passes cleaner — but the Wolves held the lead. Every time they scored, the crowd went wild, gray banners waving like storm clouds.

When Cregan’s line scored the third goal, sealing the game, the arena erupted. The Wolves swarmed the ice, Jace and Cregan high-fiving before pounding their gloves against the glass in front of the fans.

Luke was on his feet, cheering with everyone else — and that’s when it happened.

Across the rink, Aemond skated to a stop in front of the Dragons’ bench, yanking his helmet off. His silver hair stuck damp to his forehead, his mauve eye scanning the crowd until it landed once again on Luke.

For a long, loaded moment, they just stared — until Aemond’s mouth pulled into the faintest, coldest little smile before he turned away, shoving his helmet back on and skating to join the postgame handshake line.

After the game, Luke followed Jace and Sara and the rest of the team down to The Den, the Wolves’ usual afterparty spot, a cozy pub strung with white lights and packed with players and friends.

Cregan spotted him from across the room, grinned, and came over, still glowing with post-game adrenaline.

“You survived another game,” he teased, sliding into the booth across from Luke.

“Barely,” Luke admitted, though the corner of his mouth tipped up.

“You looked good cheering for us though,” Cregan said easily, and Luke ducked his head to hide the warmth creeping up his neck.

A fresh round of drinks arrived, and someone started passing around menus. The conversation drifted toward the Winter Ball — the senior dance just a few weeks away that would be held in the Red Keep salons.

“Hey, you should come,” Cregan said suddenly, turning back to Luke.

Luke blinked. “What?”

“To the ball,” Cregan said with a shrug, like it was the simplest thing in the world. “You don’t have to be a senior to go if you are invited. Go with me?”

Luke’s heart did a strange lurch. “With you?”

Cregan’s grin widened just enough to be an answer without words.

Luke felt heat flood his cheeks. He busied himself with his soda, stalling.

“Think about it,” Cregan said, unbothered by the pause. “Wouldn’t be the worst way to spend a night, right?”

Luke gave him a tiny smile.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9

Luke's next scheduled tutoring session with Aemond arrived too quickly for the first time since it's dawning.

He spent the entire school day pretending he wasn’t counting down the hours — but every tick of the clock at school felt like it was dragging him closer to something inevitable.

By the time he reached the red mansion, the sun had already set and his palms were damp inside his gloves.

The pool house lights were on, curtains drawn and Aemond waiting for him inside.

Luke stepped inside without knocking. 

Aemond was seated on his bed, pen in hand, a textbook open before him. He didn’t look up immediately, just kept writing. The deliberate calm of it made Luke’s stomach knot.

Finally, Aemond capped his pen and lifted his gaze, expression perfectly neutral.

“You came,” he said simply.

“You pay me to,” Luke replied, shrugging his jacket off. His voice came out sharper than he intended, but he didn’t try to fix it.

Aemond didn’t react, just gestured the other side of the bed. “Sit. We have a lot to cover.”

Luke hesitated for a moment, before he dropped his bag by his feet. 

For the first twenty minutes, Aemond behaved as if nothing had happened — as if Luke hadn’t defied him, hadn’t sat in the bleachers on Friday night cheering for the Wolves like it a declaration of war.

Luke translated passages. Aemond repeated them back. They corrected verb forms, debated syntax.

Then, just when Luke’s pulse had begun to settle, Aemond closed the book.

“Vezof jin azantys,” he said evenly, the Valyrian syllables sharp and clean.

Luke blinked, the words taking a half-second to register.

You went to the game.

It wasn’t a question.

“So what if I did?” Luke shot back in English.

Aemond tilted his head, slow, disappointed.

“We are still in session,” he said quietly. “Do your job and answer me properly so that I learn.”

Luke’s throat worked, heat crawling up his neck. “Ñuhon,” he ground out finally, the Valyrian word rough in his mouth.

I did.

Aemond’s eye gleamed, satisfied and dangerous all at once.

“Bantis lua syt nyke epagon ziry,” he then murmured, leaning forward slightly.

I told you to stay away.

Luke’s jaw tightened. “Vezof nyke gaomagon,” he spat back.

I don’t care.

For a heartbeat, silence stretched.

Then Aemond’s mouth curved, not quite a smile, not quite anger.

He moved before Luke could flinch, knocking the book aside and grabbing him by the arm. In one clean motion, Luke found himself flat on his back, the mattress dipping under Aemond’s weight as the older boy pinned him there.

“Skoros tymptir issa nuha vali ēdruta?” Aemond’s voice was low, almost amused, his face inches from Luke’s.

Who is playing games now?

Luke glared up at him in silence, chest rising and falling fast. He swallowed hard, refusing to give him the satisfaction.

Aemond’s eye flicked down over his face, settling on his lips, his grip firm but not painful.

A humorless sound escaped him then — almost a snicker, sharp at the edges. “Seven hells, you make it impossible not to want to break you in half.”

Luke’s breath caught, his anger colliding with something molten and dangerous in his stomach. “Get off me,” he managed as he began twisting underneath Aemond.

“Careful,” Aemond warned, voice dropping to something darker.

Luke’s lips curled as his pulse thundered in his ears. “Or what?”

That was the moment Aemond snapped — the warning gone, the control gone. He dipped his head and kissed him hard, like he was swallowing the challenge straight off Luke’s mouth.

Luke jerked under him, startled, his first instinct to shove at Aemond’s chest — to push him off.

But Aemond’s hand was quick to grab both of his wrists in one grip to hold him exactly where he wanted him, as he kept kissing him like he’d been starving for this.

“No—” Luke tried, muffled against Aemond’s mouth, but the word melted when Aemond bit at his lower lip, pulling a gasp out of him.

Luke twisted under him some more, resisting — but the heat of Aemond’s body, the weight of him, the sheer intent in the kiss burned through his anger, through his denial.

And then, finally, he was kissing Aemond back.

Fine, he thought bitterly, letting Aemond devour him. If this is what you want, then take it. Pretend I’m Jace. Pretend until you’re done with me, and then maybe I can finally stop wanting you.

With Luke's compliance, Aemond immediately deepened it, groaning low in his throat, his free hand sliding under Luke's shirt.

Luke’s mind whirred — he hated himself for this, hated that his chest was so tight and that kissing Aemond felt this good, hated that every second of it felt like giving in.

Aemond slid his hand from stroking over one of Luke's nipples down to the hem of his joggers, dipping underneath slowly.

Heat shot down Luke’s spine, pooling low in his stomach. His hips shifted involuntarily and Aemond felt it — Luke felt him feel it — because the grip on his hip tightened, holding him still.

Aemond’s knee pressed into the mattress between his legs, crowding him, forcing him to feel every inch of him. Luke’s mind screamed stop even as his body arched up into it.

“Get out.” Aemond muttered against his mouth then, pulling back just far enough to look at him — flushed, wide-eyed, hair mussed. "Before I do something you won't like again..."

---

The days after were a quiet kind of torture.

Aemond hadn’t said a word about what had happened — not the kiss, not the way he’d touched him, not the way he’d told him to leave like he was doing him a favor.

Their tutoring sessions became painfully civil. No comments, no lingering glances, no hints of the tension still smoldering between them.

Luke told himself this was what he wanted — for things to be normal.

But every time he sat across from Aemond, the silence felt sharp. It wasn’t normal. It was worse.

It was as if Aemond had locked him out completely.

On Thursday, Luke walked down the hallway after last period and overheard a cluster of girls by the lockers, giggling about dress fittings and limos for the Winter Ball.

The Winter Ball.

The words lingered as he kept walking. Maybe saying yes to Cregan wouldn’t just be about moving forward, about finally stepping out of this impossible dragon dance with Aemond — maybe it would sting him a little too.

Maybe, deep down, that was what Luke wanted most.

He spotted Cregan rummaging through his locker, but turning and grinning when he saw Luke approaching.

“Hey,” Cregan said, easy as always. "can't find a pen..."

Luke smiled and held out one of his own for him. "I’ll go. With you.” he said when Cregan politely bowed when receiving it. "To the ball, I mean."

Cregan’s grin widened, pleased. “Good. You won’t regret it.”

Luke nodded, clutching his bag strap tight.

No — he thought — he wouldn’t regret it.

Not if it got Aemond to finally feel something.

---

It was already dusky by the time Luke stepped off at the station. The air was chilly, each breath a ghostly cloud as he started down the hill toward home.

The purr of an engine broke the quiet street. A sleek, golden car eased up beside him, glossy and expensive, headlights washing pale light across the pavement.

The window slid down.

“Strong,” Jason drawled from the driver’s seat, one arm slung casually over the wheel, grin lazy and dangerous. “Get in. I’ll drive you home.”

Luke froze, his grip on his bag strap tightening until it ached. What was Jason doing here?

He shook his head quickly. “That’s— that’s kind, but no thank you. It’s not far—”

Jason chuckled, low and humorless. He reached across the passenger seat, popped the lock with a sharp click. “Wasn’t an offer,” he said, tone smooth but edged. “And I won’t tell you twice.”

The street was empty. The station behind him had gone quiet.

Luke’s heart thudded painfully as he stepped forward, hesitantly opened the door, and slid inside.

Jason didn’t drive right away. He just sat there for a beat, letting the car idle while he watched Luke like he was deciding what to do with him.

“I’ve been trying to get in contact with you,” Jason said finally, casual as anything. “You’ve ghosted me for months.”

Luke’s fingers clenched tighter around his bag. “I didn’t mean to,” he said quickly. “I’ve been busy—”

“Busy?” Jason cut in, smirking. “Busy hiding, maybe.”

Luke looked away, staring hard out the windshield, wishing his pulse wasn’t so loud in his ears.

Jason’s laugh was soft, cruel. He finally shifted the car into gear, pulling smoothly from the curb. “You really thought you could just ignore me after the party?”

Luke stayed quiet, throat tight.

“That night was fun,” Jason went on, glancing at him from the corner of his eye. “I thought we were just getting started.”

Luke shook his head, staring hard at the dashboard. “I was very drunk,” he said, voice thin. “I didn’t— I didn’t mean for it to go that far. I am sorry I-”

"Keep letting me on? Yeah you should be..."

The two of them drove in silence and Luke wasn't sure if he dared navigating the lion through the winding streets of his neighborhood, but by the looks of it... Jason knew the way which concerned Luke.

"Here we are..." Jason said as he parked his car right by the Strong's apartment complex, but before Luke could thank him for the ride or even unbuckle the seatbelt, the older boy reached into his pocket, pulled out his phone, and with a few swipes, turned the screen toward Luke.

Luke’s stomach dropped.

Photos. Unmistakable. Of him. His face flushed and his eyes closed. His lips swollen. His body, sprawled over a bed with his shirt pushed up to reveal his plump nipples, his pants and underwear pushed down to reveal his private parts.

Luke’s breath hitched. “Delete them,” he said, barely audible.

Jason grinned, teeth flashing in the glow of the dashboard. “Why would I do that? They’re my favorite photos. I cum to them at least once a day.”

Luke turned toward him sharply, panic rising. “Jason—”

“Relax,” Jason said lightly. “I just want a little insurance.” He leaned closer, his voice dropping, warm and poisonous. “Who. Pushed. Me. Off. That. Balcony?”

Luke’s mouth went dry. “I—I told you, I don’t know.”

Jason tilted his head, almost mock-gentle. “Shame. I gave you a chance to tell me the truth.” His grin sharpened. “But I figured it out anyway. Took a while, but it all lines up. Aemond Targaryen.”

Luke’s chest squeezed so hard it hurt.

“Aemond doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy who risks his reputation or career over nothing,” Jason continued. “So either you mean something to him…” Jason leaned in closer, his breath ghosting over Luke's lips. “…or you’re just a toy he and your brother like to pass around. And I hate being left out.”

Luke’s fingers dug into his bag strap, knuckles white. “Please,” he whispered.

Jason’s grin turned lazy again, satisfied. “Answer when I text you. Oh, and I want you at the game tomorrow night. Sit where I can see you. Smile nice and sweet for me. You do that...” He tapped the phone screen once with his thumb. “…and these stay between us.”

He unlocked the doors with a soft click then, dismissing Luke, who slid out of the car on shaky legs as quickly as he could, the cold air hitting him like a slap. The car shot away, leaving him standing on the curb with fear thick in his throat.

How had it all led to this?

Chapter Text

Chapter 10

The next morning, Luke barely touched his breakfast.

He moved through the school day in a fog, Jason’s words from the night before running on a loop in his head. He thought about skipping the game. He had plenty of thought about staying home, letting Jason be angry, blocking his number, pretending none of it was real.

But the memory of those photos on Jason’s phone stopped him cold every time.

By late afternoon, Luke found himself standing in front of the bathroom mirror, tugging a sweater over his head and hating that he was trying to look nice.

Jason Lannister didn't deserve him to.

When he arrived at the arena, he did so late. Fans were already packed the stands, lions clashing with stags everywhere he looked. A good thing they weren't facing the dragons or the wolves tonight.

He kept his head down, slipping into the bleachers on the far right end, where he knew Jason would be able to see him.

The Lion sat on the bench, just in his team jacket, knee taped and braced. His helmetless blond head was tilted just so, a smirk playing at his lips as his eyes locked on Luke across the rink.

Luke’s stomach flipped, shame crawling hot up the back of his neck.

He forced himself to stay put, forced himself to cheer with everyone else when the lions got advantage. His voice came out thin and shaky, but he cheered anyway, because that was what Jason wanted.

Every time Luke’s gaze slipped toward the ice, he found Jason’s eyes waiting, pinning him like he was the most interesting thing in the room.

By the time the final buzzer sounded and the Lions secured their win, Luke’s whole body felt coiled tight.

When the players filed off the ice and disappeared into the locker rooms, Luke stayed glued to his seat for a moment, his heart still hammering.

He’d done what Jason asked. He’d come. He’d sat where he could see him. He'd cheered. Surely that was enough.

His phone buzzed.

Message from Jason Lannister read on the screen.

Parking lot. Wait.

Luke’s stomach dropped.

He shuffled out with the thinning crowd, down the steps and out into the cold night air. The parking lot was emptying with every passing moment, soon only a few cars remained left under the yellow glare of the streetlights. Luke wrapped his arms around himself, waiting, every sound of the big entrance doors swinging open making him flinch.

Finally, Jason appeared.

Hair slightly damp from a quick shower as if he hadn't played zero seconds of that game, jacket slung carelessly over one shoulder. He spotted Luke immediately and grinned like winning the game wasn't the best part of his night.

“Good boy,” Jason said as he strode up, voice low enough that only Luke could hear. “Come on.”

He led him across the lot to where the golden car sat gleaming under a lamp post, unlocked it with a click, and then opened the back door instead of the passenger side.

Luke froze.

“Much more space in the back,” Jason said, tone still smooth but with no room for argument.

Luke’s breath hitched, but he had no choice but to climb in.

Jason slid in after him, the leather creaking, shutting them into the dim, enclosed space.

For a moment, Jason just watched him, letting the silence linger. Then he smirked and leaned one elbow on the backseat, casual as if they were old friends catching up.

“You were good tonight,” he said.

“I did what you asked,” he said quickly, voice tight. “So we’re done now, right?”

Jason’s grin widened. “Done?” He let out a short laugh. “Strong, we’re just getting started.” before he leaned in closer. Much much closer.

Luke flinched back, his shoulders hitting the door. “No,” he said, voice barely above a whisper.

Jason tilted his head, almost amused at the resistance. “Come on. I know you liked it last time.”

Luke shook his head harder, pressing himself into the door as far as he could.

Jason’s smirk faltered, turning into something harder. He leaned in just enough for Luke to feel his breath on his cheek.

“You really want to be difficult tonight?”

“Please…” Luke exhaled.

Jason hummed, almost kindly as he pulled out his phone and unlocked it to remind Luke of the images. “Relax. A kiss is all I’m asking for tonight. You give me that, and I won't have to be mean.”

Luke’s throat felt like it was closing. He stared at the screen, at the blurred thumbnail of himself, then nodded — tiny, miserable.

“That's more like it.” Jason murmured.

He didn’t grab Luke, not this time — just placed a hand at the back of his neck, warm and firm, guiding him closer. The control was all in the quiet way Jason moved, in how slow he went, like he was savoring this.

Luke squeezed his eyes shut as Jason’s mouth found his, soft but deliberate.

It was nothing like the sloppy, drunken kissing at the party — this was slow, purposeful. Jason tilted his head, deepening it gradually, giving Luke no room to pull away.

Not that Luke could afford to.

Because even as his hands curled into fists in his lap, even as shame burned under his skin, Jason kept his promise — he was careful, patient almost, letting the kiss stretch until Luke’s lips moved back on instinct.

And that was the worst part.

Because somewhere in all that terrible, Luke realized Jason wanted him — wanted him even after the balcony, even after everything that had happened because of Luke — and whether that was some kind of twisted affection or just the cruelty of possession, he didn’t know.

Then Jason moved down to kiss at his neck, and Luke could do nothing but angle his face to the side and let it happen.

Then the flash.

Luke’s eyes flew open just in time to see Jason lower his phone, screen glowing with the new photo — Jason eating away at his throat, Luke’s face clear.

When Jason pulled back, he was smiling, satisfied, like he’d just proven something. “See?” he murmured, tucking the phone back into his pocket. “Wasn’t so hard.”

Luke just stared at him, chest heaving, realizing he was stuck. So so stuck.

Jason then brushed a thumb across Luke's lower lip, almost gentle. “Friday night,” he said softly. “Same seat. Don’t make me come looking for you.”

---

During the weekend, Luke could swear his lips still felt warm where Jason’s thumb had brushed them, phantom-like, and every time he closed his eyes, the glow of Jason’s phone screen lit up behind them.

He wanted to delete himself. To scrub away Friday night forever, to pretend it hadn’t happened.

But the hickey blooming dark and ugly on the side of his throat wouldn’t let him forget.

He tried covering it with makeup. With his scarf. With the high collar of his jacket. But no matter what he did, he swore he could still feel it there — hot, raw, like Jason’s smirk was pressed into his skin.

But by the time Monday rolled around, he had to walk up the path to the red mansion like nothing was wrong.

Like he hadn’t been kissed in the backseat of Jason Lannister’s car with a camera pointed at his face.

Like there wasn’t a bruise on his neck advertising exactly what he was trying so hard to keep secret.

He hadn’t even thought about the repercussions if Aemond found out…

The pool house was warm, lights dimmed, Aemond already at the desk. He didn’t look up right away, just finished writing a line in his notebook before finally lifting his head.

“Lucerys,” he said, voice neutral but clipped.

Luke’s stomach twisted. He tugged the scarf higher, nodded once, and crossed the room.

For a while, there was only the sound of pages turning, the steady back-and-forth of their study session. Aemond’s voice stayed perfectly even, asking questions, correcting conjugations. Luke dared to think — maybe tonight would be normal.

And then Aemond stopped.

“Take that off,” he said suddenly.

Luke’s head snapped up. “What?”

“The scarf.” Aemond’s tone wasn’t sharp, but there was something in it — an edge Luke couldn’t place. His eye had fixed on the fabric at Luke’s throat. “You’re sweating.”

“I’m cold,” Luke lied quickly, fingers clutching at the wool like a lifeline.

Aemond didn’t move, didn’t raise his voice. He just sat there, perfectly still, watching him in a way that made Luke’s skin prickle.

“You are obviously not,” Aemond said, softly this time.

Luke’s breath caught. Slowly, reluctantly, his fingers moved, tugging the scarf loose.

The bruise was obvious the moment it was uncovered — dark and deep, spreading low across his throat like a brand.

Aemond’s gaze locked on it.

His jaw tightened, but he said nothing.

The silence stretched until Luke wanted to sink through the floor. Aemond’s expression didn’t change — too calm, too collected — but something coiled in the air between them, taut and dangerous, like the pause right before a blade struck.

Luke dropped his gaze back to the open book but his hand trembled where it gripped the page.

When Aemond finally spoke, his voice was quiet, controlled.

“Let’s continue,” he said simply.

And that was somehow worse.

Because Luke knew — it wasn’t over.

---

The hickey was never mentioned.

Not once.

Aemond didn’t bring it up for the rest of the session. Not when Luke left, not in the days after.

But he didn’t forget it, either.

Luke could feel it in the way Aemond watched him — quieter than usual, too careful with his words, too deliberate when he turned a page or passed him a pen.

Life continued, with the tutoring sessions and watching the lions games on fridays and being the focus of two hockey players with their own agendas, that by the time December and the night of the Winter Ball arrived, Luke felt he could hardly breathe.

He’d nearly texted Cregan to cancel more than once — but then he’d pictured Jason’s smirk, pictured Aemond’s stare, and decided he was going to have one normal night.

Cregan picked him, Jace and Sara up in his big boulder of a car. He looked devastatingly good in his suit, hair neatly tied back. His face broke into a grin the moment he got out of the car and spotted them all.

"So weird you asked my brother to this, Creg..." Jace said the moment they got in the car. Luke blushed from the backseat, where a flawless Sara sat in a dark blue cocktail dress.

"What? He's double the fun as half of the girls in our year." Cregan simply answered and sped up the hill.

The ballroom was already warm with music and laughter by the time they arrived. Strings of fairy lights draped from the rafters, catching on crystal and sequins as seniors spun across the floor in beautiful gowns and suits.

“Shall we?” Cregan asked, holding out a hand with a playful bow.

Luke laughed — really laughed, for what felt like the first time in weeks — and let Cregan lead him onto the floor.

The music swelled, and Luke let himself move with it, following Cregan’s easy steps.

For a while, the others fell away — Aemond, Jason. Here, with Cregan, Luke could almost feel like himself.

Between dances, they found a spot by the edge of the room with two drinks. Cregan bumped his shoulder into Luke’s.

“You look good tonight,” he said simply.

Luke felt his face heat and ducked his head, smiling. “You too.”

For the next hour, they danced and joked and leaned close to hear each other over the music. Luke found himself enjoying it more than he expected — maybe even more than he wanted to admit.

Because for just a moment, all of this had been his choice.

Like, he could choose this — the warmth, the safety, the way Cregan looked at him like he wasn’t complicated at all.

He could choose Cregan.