Archive of Our Own ^beta

“Daemon, where are you?” Rhaenyra shouted up the stairs. “I need you to put these suitcases in the car!”

“In a moment!” Daemon got down on his knees, ignoring the ache in his back. (He was not getting old. The weather was cold today, and it did strange things to his bones.) He peered underneath his and Rhaenyra’s king-sized bed. His two youngest daughters peered back at him from their hiding spot. The family dogs, Caraxes and Syrax, lay beside them. “Alyssa, Viserra, get out from under there. We’re going to your grandfather’s house.”

“We’re in the middle of a game of Long Night. We have to hide from the White Walkers,” eight-year-old Alyssa informed him.

“Yeah, we’re hiding,” six-year-old Viserra said around a mouthful of crackers. Crumbs spilled liberally from her open mouth.

Daemon dreaded the ant colony that would soon form underneath the bed, despite the dogs’ best attempts at vacuuming the mess with their tongues. “You’ll need to finish the game later. We’re leaving now.”

Alyssa shook her head. “That sounds like a trick so the White Walkers can ambush us.”

“Yeah, it’s a ham bush,” Viserra said.

Daemon glanced at his watch. They were already a half-hour behind schedule. “I’ll pay you twenty dragons each to come out from under there.”

Sniffing haughtily, Alyssa said, “We don’t negotiate with terrorists.”

“Yeah, Kepa, you’re a tear-ist,” Viserra said.

He dragged his hand down his face. “You both can have double helpings of dessert this entire weekend.”

“And we can stay up with the adults,” Alyssa countered, apparently willing to negotiate with terrorists after all.

“Yes, you can stay up late.” It was no concession. They would both pass out at their usual bedtimes, anyway.

Viserra stuffed her last cracker in her mouth. “And ponies! We want ponies.”

“We already have ponies,” Alyssa reminded her sister.

“We do?”

“Your grandfather gave you ponies last year, and you rode them twice before getting bored. Negotiations are over. Let’s go,” Daemon snapped.

Ten minutes later, he was heaving luggage into their minivan and cursing his aching back while Rhaenyra and the girls waited for the dogs to finish doing their business. “Don’t forget your gifts,” Rhaenyra said as Daemon balanced Alyssa’s purple backpack on top of the pile.

Daemon paused. The backpack toppled onto the driveway. “Hey!” Alyssa said indignantly.

“You did buy gifts? You said you would this year.” Rhaenyra studied his frozen expression and sighed. “I suppose we can add your name to the tags on mine. Again.”

Daemon slammed the trunk shut. “No need, I’ll just pick up a few things at the nearest Spicemart.”

“Spicemart?” Rhaenyra said incredulously. “Daemon, you can do better than Spicemart.”

“What’s wrong with Spicemart? Corlys owns the entire chain, doesn’t he?” Daemon shook his keyring, jangling its contents. “Let’s go! We want to beat traffic.”

The children were buckled into their seats, snacks were placed within reach of their perpetually sticky hands, the newest episodes of The Adventures of Dunk and Egg were playing on the girls’ tablets, and the dogs were settled in the back row of the minivan. Daemon began to back out of the driveway.

“Kepa,” Viserra whined, “I need to pee.”

Aegon tapped on his phone until he found Daemon’s headshot on his consulting company’s website. He angled the screen toward Elenar, his and Jacaera’s eight-month-old son, who was happily bouncing in his swinging chair. “See this man?”

“Bah!” Elenar said, which was baby-talk for Yes, I perceive his villainous mien.

“He’s the enemy. We don’t like him.”

“Bah!” Elenar said, which was baby-talk for I agree, he must be destroyed.

“He always says you aren’t his grandson—don’t worry, you aren’t—but I’m sure one of your grandmas will make him hold you so they can take photos. When he does, I want you to try to spit up on him. Or poop your pants. Just do your best, and tomorrow I’ll make those banana pancakes you’re obsessed with. Deal?”

“Bah bah bah!” Elenar bobbed his head up and down. The movement was probably due to his bouncing, but Aegon liked to think he was nodding.

“I knew I could rely on you, Stinky Cheeseball!” Aegon picked up Elenar and loudly kissed his face several times.

Sunfyre, their golden retriever, perked up at the sound of wet kisses and came over to participate. Aegon allowed the dog to lick his hand.

Down the corridor, the study door opened. His wife Jacaera stepped outside and exhaled loudly as she joined them in the living room. “Sorry about that! Conference calls always go longer than planned. I just need to send a few emails, then we can leave.”

Aegon dramatically checked the time. “You said you would stop working at noon.” He held out his hand, palm up.

“It was an emergency,” she protested, clutching her work phone.

“Really? Was your mother on that call too?” he asked, still holding out his hand.

“No, she’s been out of the office the entire week. But Aemond is still online!”

“The only time Aemond logs out of work is to have sex, shower, or sleep, in that order of priority.” Aegon wiggled the fingers of his outstretched hand. “Jace, you promised.”

“Bah bah!” Elenar concurred, waving his arms. Sunfyre also yipped in agreement.

Jacaera sighed and gave Aegon her work phone. He slipped it into his back pocket. “Alright. I am officially on vacation,” she said, ruffling the mop of black curls sprouting from Elenar’s head. “We can go to your parents’ soon. But we should change Elenar into that outfit your mother bought.”

Aegon skeptically eyed the aforementioned outfit, which still had its tags attached as it lay on the coffee table. It was a white baby-sized tuxedo, complete with a red bowtie, cummerbund, and fake boutonniere. “It’s white and expensive. You know that means Cheeseball is going to vomit or shit on it as soon as we arrive.”

“I’m sure he will,” Jacaera said, resigned. “But it would make your mother happy, even if only for a few minutes.”

Shrugging, Aegon began to remove Elenar’s onesie. “If it gets stained, I’m throwing it out. I refuse to scrub poop out of a tuxedo he’ll outgrow five days from now.”

“No arguments from me.” Jacaera wrapped her arms around Aegon’s waist in a hug. “See, Aegon? I told you that you’d be good at this.”

“Good at what?” he asked distractedly as he peeled the onesie from Elenar’s pudgy, kicking legs.

“Being a dad.”

“Eh, it’s not that difficult keeping him alive. I just have to make sure he doesn’t try to eat any batteries.” He was pleased by the compliment nonetheless.

She kissed his cheek as her hand rested on his arse, which he found very intriguing. “Maybe this time next year, we’ll be expecting another one.”

He waggled his eyebrows. “We could practice this weekend.”

Jacaera laughed as she stepped back, tugging her left sleeve over her hand. “At your parents’ house? With all our family in the neighboring rooms?”

“Why not? Last year it was Aemond and Luce who were caught in a compromising position. This year can be our turn.”

“We’re going to be late,” Aemond grumbled. The queue to board the ferry from Driftmark to the mainland was crawling forward at a glacial pace. He was carrying five pieces of luggage, three of which contained gifts for their family.

Lucera adjusted the straps of her purse and knitting bag. “Are you sure you don’t want me to take a suitcase?”

“I’ve got it.” Aemond wheeled the precarious stack of luggage several inches up the gangplank before the queue ground to a halt.

Men and their pride. She rolled her eyes. “We could’ve taken an earlier ferry if you didn’t insist on having sex three times this morning.” 

“I didn’t hear you complaining,” he said smugly.

Men and their other pride…

He knew very well that it was hard for her to speak, let alone complain, when her mouth was stuffed with his cock. Or when her face was buried in the pillows while he fucked her with the force of a Category Five hurricane. But she didn’t want to give him the pleasure of saying so out loud, so she just harrumphed petulantly.

“Why are we taking the ferry, anyway?” he asked as the queue crept forward. “We could’ve borrowed one of your grandfather’s boats, or chartered a plane.”

“We’re trying to be environmentally conscious. You can take public transportation with the commoners once a year, Aemond. It won’t kill you.”

A nearby child sneezed into his hand and wiped the snot off on the gangplank’s railing. Aemond grimaced. “I think it might.”

Thankfully for Aemond’s elitist sensibilities, Lucera had bought tickets for a private cabin on the ferry. She scrubbed the surfaces with sanitizing wipes while Aemond loaded the luggage into the overhead racks. They settled into their seats as the ferry pulled away from the dock.

She opened her knitting bag and took out the half-knitted cowl she was making for Joff. It was the last Yule gift she needed to complete.

“Do you think you’ll finish in time?” Aemond asked as he set up his temporary work station: Targ Corp laptop, a stress ball for him to squeeze when a sales associate inevitably pissed him off, and an insulated coffee thermos that said Tears of Interns (Organic and Tax-Deductible) with a cartoon of Aemond wearing devil horns. The thermos was a gift from Aegon last year; Aemond took it with him whenever he went into the office.

“I will if you don’t distract me,” Lucera muttered. She’d already finished knitting a row since they sat down.

“You don’t have to knit something for everyone every year.”

“I know. I’ll just buy gifts next year.” She wouldn’t. She never did.

Lucera plugged in her phone and pressed play on the audiobook they had been listening to together. It was a thriller told from the perspective of a murderer who killed his prodigal older brother so he could have the family inheritance. Aemond bought the hardcover version for Aegon’s gift this year.

While Lucera knitted, Aemond opened his laptop and was immediately greeted by a dozen dings from the company’s instant messaging system. His lip curled in an unimpressed sneer as he scrolled through the messages. Then he paused and arched an eyebrow at the screen. “Hmm.” He took out his phone—personal, not work—and texted somebody.

Several minutes later, his phone buzzed with a response. Aemond chuckled as he read it.

“What’s so funny?” Lucera asked, despite her resolution not to be distracted.

“Jace was supposed to give her work phone to Aegon an hour ago, but she’s messaging me about the Dornish project right now.”

“So you snitched on her to Aegon?” As a general rule, Lucera did not approve of snitching. Privately, she agreed with Aegon that her sister worked too much.

“I’m merely trying to help everyone get into the holiday spirit,” he said innocently, even though his workaholism rivaled Jacaera’s. Sometimes Lucera wondered if the two of them were secretly competing to see who could clock in more hours. “Besides, she really shouldn’t pickpocket her own husband.”

“Jace pickpocketed Aegon? I’m impressed.” Lucera resumed knitting, only to be distracted again by a stray thought. “We turned on the automatic food dispensers, didn’t we?”

“I decided we could save money on cat food if we let Vhagar eat Arrax while we’re gone,” Aemond said without looking up from his laptop. “She’s three times his size. It wouldn’t be difficult for her to pin him down.”

“Aemond…”

“Yes, I turned the dispensers on.” Aemond sipped from his thermos of intern tears. “Vhagar might still try to eat him though. She hates dry food.”

Joff checked her lab specimens one last time before shutting the mini-fridge door. She wrapped a roll of duct tape around the fridge to deter the dormitory assistant from trying to open it during their holiday break room checks. Then she taped a sign to the door: DO NOT UNPLUG OR I WILL SUE YOU FOR TEN TIMES YOUR STUDENT LOANS.

“Joff?” Daeron stood in the doorway, too polite to come inside even though she left the door open so he didn’t need to knock. “Our ride to the train station is here.”

“Took them long enough.” She stood and donned her parka and gloves. When she turned to grab her suitcase, Daeron had already taken it and was juggling it with his own luggage. Shrugging, she allowed him the chivalrous gesture and just picked up her backpack.

As they walked down the corridor, they passed other students frantically packing at the last minute. People screeched at their friends to return curling irons, lecture notes, and Ritalin bottles that had been loaned and borrowed earlier in the semester. Almost everybody paused to shout “Happy Yule, see you next year!” at Daeron, who enthusiastically returned their farewells.

Joff’s lab partner from one of her classes waved at her. She nodded back, grateful not to be smothered in a deluge of hugs like Daeron. There was a shocking number of university students who failed to shower on a regular basis.

Two of Daeron’s fraternity brothers were arguing over a can of protein powder. One of them paused to call out, “Yooo, Daeron, you gonna be here for the New Year’s Eve party? It’s gonna be lit.” He mimed a smoking gesture. “High towers, yeah?”

Daeron’s smile never faltered. “I’ll still be with my family, but thank you for the invite. Next time, though!”

The other frat brother scoffed. “I’ll believe it when I see it. You’re always studying, bro. What are you, a student or something?” The two of them guffawed as if it was the funniest joke their pea-sized brains had ever heard.

When they exited the dormitory, Joff said, “I think I just lost several IQ points standing next to them. Why did you join a frat if you never attend their events?”

“I’m a legacy on my mother’s side. Every Hightower man who’s ever attended Oldtown is a member.” Daeron was the only one of his siblings to matriculate at University of Oldtown. The others went to King’s Landing University, like most of their family. “And it’s supposed to look good on my resume. Useful for networking.” Daeron loaded their suitcases into the trunk of their taxi.

“I thought you were going to work at Targ Corp when you graduate.” Almost everyone in their family was affiliated with Targ Corp somehow. Daemon’s consulting company worked closely with Targ Corp, Baela’s surveying expeditions were funded by Targ Corp grants, Rhaena ruled over Targ Corp’s HR department with an iron fist, and Helaena was Targ Corp’s best weapon against programming bugs. Lucera had chosen to pursue nepotism at their other grandfather Corlys’s company instead. Aegon was a stay-at-home dad who humbly lived off of social media advertising revenue, art freelance gigs, and a trust fund with more money than Lorath’s national budget.

“Maybe, maybe not. I like having options.” Daeron shut the trunk and smiled at her. “Are you planning to work at Targ Corp?”

“I also like having options.” Joff liked the idea of going into research or academia. If that failed, then she was sure Rhaenyra could find her a mid-level position at Targ Corp that allowed Joff to boss people around, do nothing of intrinsic value, and draw a cushy salary.

They got into the taxi. “Heater’s broken, sorry,” the driver said as he started toward the train station. “Guess you two lovebirds just have to get cozy, eh?”

“Don’t tip him,” Joff muttered to Daeron, but she knew her warning was futile. Daeron always tipped. He would tip a vending machine if it had the option. Maybe it has baby vending machines at home to take care of!

“It’s Yule! It’d be mean not to tip.” After a moment, Daeron tentatively stretched his hand over the empty middle seat and laid it on top of hers. When she didn’t move away, he beamed. It made her stomach flip in a pleasant, butterfly-like manner which bordered on nausea. Only Daeron could ever generate such a discomfiting sensation. “So? Are you ready to tell the family?” he asked.

“Of course,” Joff said, even as unease prickled up her spine. She might as well get it over with while the whole family was in one place. Even Baela was coming home with her new boy toy.

“Let me get this straight.” Cregan was doing his best to keep his voice down in the business class cabin of the airplane. First class had been sold out, and there was no way he would fit in the economy seats. “Your stepsister, Jace, who is also your cousin, is married to her uncle. Your other stepsister, Luce, who is also your cousin, is in a serious relationship with a different uncle. And your stepmother, Rhaenyra, who is also your cousin and your former aunt by marriage, is married to your father, who is also her uncle and former brother-in-law.”

Baela tapped the family tree she had scribbled on her drink napkin. “You have to remember Rhaenyra isn’t actually Viserys’s daughter by blood. He adopted her when she was a baby, after he married her mother Aemma.”

“Okay, I guess that explains Rhaenyra and your dad.” Cregan decided not to ask about their age difference. “But those uncles. They’re Rhaenyra’s younger brothers?”

“Kind of, not really.” Baela underlined two names in her family tree. Her handwriting was atrocious. The names both started with the letter A, but that was the only thing Cregan could interpret. “Aemma died from childbirth complications when she and Viserys were trying to have a kid of their own. Then Viserys married Alicent, and they had four kids together. So Rhaenyra’s daughters don’t actually share blood with their ‘uncles.’”

“Okay, I guess that explains Jace having a baby with her husband.” Cregan decided not to ask whether it was true that all Valyrians were related to each other somehow. His own family tree was rife with distant cousins and not-so-distant cousins bound in holy matrimony. When you ran in elite circles like his and Baela’s families, everyone was fucked up in some way. “But didn’t they all grow up together?”

“Not since they were babies. Alicent was Rhaenyra’s best friend growing up, and her marriage to Viserys wrecked their relationship. They had a big fight that caused Rhaenyra to take her daughters and move to Driftmark. The kids didn’t reconnect until they were teenagers.”

“Okay, I guess that’s…better.” Cregan decided to tell himself that if Viserys had never adopted Rhaenyra or married her mother, the romantic entanglements would be a non-issue.

Baela swished the ice in her drink cup. “Let me guess. You’ve read that Mush Ado About Mushroom blog that stalks all my family’s scandals?”

“It’s hard to avoid the articles,” he admitted sheepishly. “Everyone reposts them on social media. But I know better than to believe everything I read on the internet.”

“And that’s why I didn’t dump you after our first hookup.” Baela gave his bicep an appreciative squeeze. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t mention the I-word this weekend, and nobody will have a problem with you.”

“Don’t you think seven Yule trees is a bit excessive?” Rhaena muttered as she and Helaena finished decorating the fir branches.

“It’s a big house. Mother thought it looked empty with only one tree.” Helaena carefully strung up a glittery snowman ornament.

Several feet away, Viserys was sipping eggnog and humming contentedly as he tinkered away at his Titan of Braavos LEGO set. It had over five thousand pieces, and he had been working on it for the last two weeks. The rest of his LEGO collection sat in custom display cases around the room. Rhaena was certain Alyssa would find her way into at least one of the cases and break its contents, but everyone else waved off her concerns.

Oh well. Not her LEGOs, not her problem.

She and Helaena were putting away the empty decoration boxes when someone rang the doorbell.

“Can someone get the door?” Alicent called from the kitchen, sounding frazzled. The staff had been given the holiday weekend off. She had spent all day putting the finishing touches on the dishes prepared by the chef before he left. It didn’t seem like a lot of work, until you realized there would be eighteen guests with a variety of dietary needs. Jacaera was still on her post-pregnancy diet, Aemond refused to touch anything fried, Joff only ate vegetables if they were hidden inside non-vegetables, and Baela’s new boyfriend was gluten-free.

If it was Rhaena hosting, she would just order tacos. That was what she did whenever Targ Corp needed catering for an event. Everyone liked tacos.

Rhaena and Helaena both went to the door. On the other side were Daemon and Otto, who somehow ended up arriving at the exact same time. Standing on the steps, the two men glared at each other with identical sneers. Viserra stood beside her father, engrossed by the cartoon on her tablet as she sucked on a lollipop. Daemon held three leashes, one each for Caraxes, Syrax, and Alyssa. The dogs obediently sat at his feet while Alyssa tried to climb the gutter pipe outside the house.

“Hey Dad.” Rhaena took Caraxes and Syrax’s leashes. She pretended not to see when Daemon tried to hand her Alyssa’s leash too. Rhaena didn’t even know they made leashes for eight-year-olds. “I thought you said your ETA was an hour ago.”

“We had to make a quick stop at Spicemart,” Daemon said as he wadded up a very long receipt.

“Last-minute gift shopping, perhaps?” Otto asked pointedly.

“I bought everything weeks ago.” Daemon stuffed the crumpled receipt in his pocket. “Let me guess, Otto, you bought everyone monogrammed fountain pens again?” He looked up the gutter pipe. “Alyssa, get down here! No—no, don’t jump—”

Rhaena took the dogs to the den, then she and Helaena went to help Rhaenyra with her family’s suitcases. They had just finished emptying the minivan when Aegon and Jacaera’s electric SUV rolled into the driveway.

Rhaenyra gasped in delight. The car had barely come to a stop before she flung open the back passenger door and squealed, “There’s my grandson!”

As if magically summoned by the codeword, Alicent appeared in the foyer, hastily shedding her apron. “Rhaenyra, you can’t hog him!” She dashed out onto the driveway. The two grandmothers began fighting over who got to hold Elenar first. Jacaera hovered nearby to ensure the altercation didn’t become bloody.

Aegon staggered into the house, his arms full of luggage. Most of it looked like Elenar’s things. Sunfyre trotted inside after him. “I need a drink,” Aegon grumbled.

“Are you allowed?” Helaena asked.

Aegon let the luggage tumble from his arms onto the floor. “Jace said I could have two glasses of wine tonight. Please tell me there’s a bottle of Arbor Red in this house.”

“If you have to ration yourself, then I recommend you wait until later when the need is more dire.” Rhaena gestured at the nearest coat rack. “You can hang your jacket there.”

Aegon stared at the coat rack, perplexed. “I have never once seen a coat rack in this house. I didn’t even know they still made those.”

“They’re new this year. Alicent bought them in case…you know…” Rhaena looked meaningfully at him.

Aegon snickered and glanced at the hall closet. “In case Aemond tries to fuck Luce into the closet wall and Daemon walks in on them, again?”

“Yeah, that.” The shelf in that particular closet of sin was still lopsided after Daemon shoved Aemond against it last year. Alicent had also relocated all the coats that used to be stored there. Or maybe she burned them. Rhaena wasn’t sure. “What a way for the whole family to find out they were an item, huh?”

“I already knew for ages that they were fucking.” Aegon carelessly tossed his jacket over the entire coat rack. “Luce was suddenly skipping all her girls’ nights with Jace, and Aemond was in too good a mood last autumn not to be getting it wet on a regular basis.”

Daemon, who had finally extracted Alyssa from the gutter pipe, stomped inside the house while she flailed in his grip. Viserra skipped after them. “Go to the LEGO room,” Daemon said as he literally threw Alyssa away from him.

She tumbled on the floor in a practiced roll, as if this was a common occurrence. As soon as she leapt to her feet, she sprinted away. A moment later, they heard Viserys say, “No, Alyssa, don’t knock that over!”

Rhaenyra carried Elenar indoors while Alicent rapidly snapped photos on her phone. Rhaena gasped when she saw what Elenar was wearing. “What an adorable tuxedo!” Rhaena exclaimed. Alas, Elenar didn’t seem particularly happy about it, judging by the way he was irritably tugging at his bowtie.

“I’m glad we have an opportunity to see it before it’s too late,” Helaena mumbled as she re-hung Aegon’s jacket more neatly.

“Daemon, come hold your grandson,” Rhaenyra ordered.

“Not my grandson.” Nevertheless, Daemon reached out to take his step-grandson, who was also his great-nephew, who was probably also his distant cousin somehow. Alicent pursed her lips at Daemon but continued taking photos.

Elenar thrashed in Daemon’s arms. He made several wet-sounding hiccups.

Aegon, who was organizing the luggage he had dropped, spun around with a look of alarm. “Oh shit.”

A second later, Elenar vomited something chunky and orange all over his tuxedo and Daemon’s shirt. Then a telltale odor wafted from his pants. Then he started to cry.

“Delete those photos,” Daemon barked at Alicent as he shoved Elenar toward Jacaera, who was blushing with embarrassment.

“Yes. Of course. Deleting them right now,” Alicent said as she opened her Ravengram app and created a new post.

Aegon, who was running toward Jacaera and Elenar, paused to hiss at his mother, “You better tag me in that.”

“Of course, dear.”

“Thanks for picking us up,” Daeron said cheerfully. “I thought you were arriving in King’s Landing earlier in the day.”

“We missed the first ferry,” Lucera replied as Aemond drove their rental car away from the station. “So we figured we might as well circle around and wait for your train. How was your first semester of university?”

“It was great,” Daeron said while Joff grumbled, “It’s a cesspit of ignoramuses who would rather drink their brain cells to death than attend the classes they’re paying tens of thousands of dragons for.”

“So…you don’t like it?” Lucera asked.

Joff shrugged. “At least I’ll be at the top of the grading curve.”

Lucera nodded in understanding, then brightened. “Oh, I have exciting news!”

“You’re pregnant,” Joff said instantly.

“No!” Lucera paused to quickly count on her fingers then said again, even more emphatically, “No! Nothing like that. Pop-Pop let me close the Hullmark deal.”

Joff nodded sagely. “A multibillion-dragon corporation transferring obscene amounts of money to another multibillion-dragon corporation, so both corporations can try to make even more money. The cornerstone of modern society.”

“That multibillion-dragon corporation helps pay for your overpriced tuition.”

“I wasn’t complaining. I hope you enjoy making your cheesy Hullmark movies next Yule.” Joff turned in her seat. “What about you, Aemond? Has Targ Corp purchased any microstates recently?”

“That’s confidential information,” Aemond said, not looking away from the road.

“Hey, Aemond.” Daeron leaned forward. “Is jungle juice really strong? The guys in my frat keep telling me to try it, but it sounds really strong and I can’t find a standardized recipe online.”

“How am I supposed to know? Ask Aegon.”

“Aemond is clueless about these things,” Lucera agreed. “He has zero fun, ever.”

Aemond’s eye flickered toward her. “I have some fun.”

“Gross,” Joff said. “Get a room. And closets don’t count.”

Lucera groaned. “Is everyone going to keep bringing that up for the rest of our lives?”

“You’re the one who decided to have sex in the hall closet during a family party.”

“That was only partially my fault.” Lucera glared at Aemond, who pretended not to notice as he continued driving.

Daeron, gallant as always, changed the subject. “This is Elenar’s first Yule. What did you all get for him?”

“A stroller that looks like a dragon,” Aemond said.

“A picture book about dragons,” Joff said.

“I knitted a dragon poncho,” Lucera said.

“Oh.” Daeron sounded put out. “I didn’t know we were doing a dragon theme. I got him stacking blocks that are supposed to look like the Hightower.”

“I’m telling you, Aegon trained that mini-him to do it on purpose.” Daemon threw his puke-stained shirt into the garbage bin. It was a designer brand imported from Pentos, but he refused to wear it ever again.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Daemon. Babies can’t vomit on command.” Rhaenyra was wrapping the gifts he purchased at Spicemart a few hours ago. “Signs and Portents? Is this book for Joff? I think she already has a copy.”

“This one has a shiny special edition cover. It’s fine.”

“If you say so,” she said dubiously. She tossed him a pen. “At least write the names on the tags yourself.”

They emerged from their room with their haul of gifts. Across the corridor, Jacaera and Aegon also emerged with Elenar, freshly bathed. Daemon eyed the little monster suspiciously, but Elenar didn’t appear in the mood to excrete any other bodily substances.

Downstairs, Alicent lamented the loss of Elenar’s tuxedo as she took him in her arms. She squinted at his onesie, which was bright yellow with the words DADDY’S DRINKING BUDDY and the outlines of a wine bottle and baby bottle printed on it. “Doesn’t he have any other clothes, Aegon?”

“Sure,” Aegon said. “There’s a onesie that says Super Duper Pooper, and another one that says I Heart Boobies. Which would you prefer?”

Alicent sighed. “Never mind, this is fine.”

There was a loud crash from the LEGO room. Alyssa’s guilty “oopsie” drifted down the corridor.

Otto sniffed as he raised a glass of whiskey to his lips. “Daemon, perhaps you should consider controlling your children before they cause further property damage.”

“It’s LEGOs. They’re supposed to break apart,” Daemon snapped as he stalked toward the LEGO room.

Viserys seemed unbothered by the catastrophic destruction of his Harrenhal LEGO set. “I can just remake it. I was running out of sets to do. Just as long as we find all the pieces…”

Daemon abruptly pointed at Viserra, who was innocently standing to the side. “What is that?”

She stared wide-eyed at him. “Nuffing,” she mumbled, puffing her cheeks.

“What’s in your mouth? You’re six! You’re too old to be eating random shit you find on the ground. Spit it out.”

She spat it out with surprising force. The LEGO piece landed on Daemon’s cheek and slid down his face, leaving a trail of saliva in its wake.

The doorbell rang, and there was an excited flurry as the latest arrivals stepped through the front door. A vein throbbed angrily in Daemon’s forehead when he heard Aemond’s smarmy voice. Daemon had only glimpsed the lecherous, one-eyed snake from a distance a handful of times since last Yule, and now he would be forced to be in close proximity with him for the entire weekend. Surely this counted as cruel and unusual punishment, which Daemon had done absolutely nothing to deserve.

Daemon lingered in the LEGO room until Viserys used his cane to whack the back of his brother’s knee. “Come along, Daemon! We must mingle.”

Grumbling, Daemon trudged into the den where everyone else was gathered. Immediately, Aemond met Daemon’s eyes, smirked, and placed a hand on Lucera’s hip, perilously close to her buttock, while she spoke with Jacaera.

Daemon glared. Aemond’s smirk grew, then he turned to say something to Aegon, who glanced at Daemon before sniggering.

Daemon really hated them both. And he really needed a drink.

“Thanks for having me. Sorry we’re late,” Cregan said as he shook the plethora of hands sticking out at him. “We already have a bit of snow up North so our flight was delayed.”

“We’re just glad you arrived safely,” said one of Baela’s stepsister-cousins. “It’s so wonderful to finally meet you! Baela said you two met at work, but not much else.”

“Yeah, on a surveying expedition beyond the Wall. First time I saw her, I mistook her for one of the free folk who live up there.” Cregan frantically tried to remember the stepsister-cousin’s name. So many names had been tossed at him in the last five minutes, they all blurred together. Why was the ae combination so popular in this family? She kept glancing at the baby who was being passed around the family like an appetizer platter, so he hazarded a guess. “You work at Targ Corp, Jace?”

She smiled and didn’t correct him, which must mean he guessed right. “Yes, I’m in our marketing division. Aemond over there is in mergers and acquisitions. Luce works in finance at our other grandfather’s company, Spicemart…”

Jacaera was in the middle of telling Cregan about how Aegon’s Ravengram channel went viral (“People really like it when a good-looking man sings with a cute baby and dog in the background. I shouldn’t have been so surprised.”) when Baela said loudly, “Dad, there you are! Come meet Cregan.”

Cregan drew himself up to his full height—which was considerable—and braced himself to meet Baela’s infamous father. Baela had told him to expect Daemon to behave thornily and interrogate Cregan with borderline rude comments (and sometimes comments that were just flat-out rude).

Daemon’s eyes narrowed as he swirled a glass of amber liquid in his hand. “Stark,” he drawled, somehow drawing out the name to three syllables. Sss-tar-kuh. “You all own that tree company. Timberfell.”

“Winterfell.”

“Mm,” Daemon said. “I suppose you do business with the Hightowers?”

“Everyone does business with the Hightower Company.”

“Mm.” Daemon sipped his drink. “You’re one of those gluten-free fad diet people?”

“No, I have a gluten intolerance. I’m a potatoes kind of guy, anyway.”

“Mm.” Without another word, Daemon wandered away.

“That went very well,” Baela said.

Cregan looked sidelong at her. “You’re joking.”

“I’m serious. When he found out Aemond and Luce were together, he punched Aemond. Although to be fair, Dad did catch them having a quickie in the hall closet.”

Cregan glanced at the coat racks in the foyer.

“And Dad almost killed Aegon when he found out about Jace. But that’s because we thought she was kidnapped from school and Dad tracked down her location to Aegon’s apartment in Dorne.”

“What?” Cregan said.

“I’ll tell you about it later,” Baela said as Alicent clapped her hands and announced it was time for dinner.

“Aegon,” Aemond snapped, “stop throwing peas at me.”

“It wasn’t me, it was Cheeseball, and you can’t yell at a baby or else you’re evil,” Aegon said without missing a beat.

“I saw you throw them!”

“Are you sure? You only have one eye so your vision is wonky sometimes.”

Sitting next to the two brothers, Lucera and Jacaera chatted while the latter spooned pureed chicken and smashed peas into Elenar’s mouth.

“I can’t believe Clement Celtigar is still bothering you,” Jacaera said. “It’s been over a year since you went on one date. Doesn’t he know about Aemond?”

Lucera sighed. “He’s convinced it’s a fake PR relationship, no matter what I tell him. At this point I’m starting to think the only way to get the message across is if I fuck Aemond in front of him.”

“Nah, that won’t work,” Aegon said as he and Aemond were distracted by the sisters’ conversation. “Clem will probably just think you’re doing it to raise money for charity or something.”

“What are we raising money for?” Helaena asked, leaning over from Aemond’s other side.

“Tits for Tots, apparently.” Giggling, Aegon grabbed Elenar from Jacaera while Lucera and Aemond glowered at him. “Nobody kick me, I’m holding a baby.”

“Tits for Tots? Never heard of them,” Baela said, turning from Cregan. “But like a good bra, I always support titties. Why are we talking about titties?”

Jacaera covered her face. “Please behave yourselves. There is a child present.”

Baela grinned mischievously. “I’m pretty sure Elenar knows what titties are, and he’s a fan.”

“Maybe we should stop discussing breasts during a family dinner where our parents are several seats away?” Rhaena suggested.

Baela booed her.

“Yeah, you’re right.” Aegon held Elenar in front of him like a shield. “Let’s go back to talking about Aemond and Luce’s sex tape.”

At the end of the table, Rhaenyra and Alicent choked on their wine at the same time. “The what tape?” they both shrieked.

Daemon stared into his glass of bourbon as if contemplating how to drown himself in it. Otto poured himself more whiskey.

“What are they talking about over there?” Viserys cupped a hand against his ear. “Do they need tape? We have extra tape in the crafting room.”

“Aegon,” Aemond said, deceptively calm, “I’m going to take you out behind the garden shed tonight and kill you.”

“You can’t kill me, I’m holding a baby.”

“A toast to my dear family!” Viserys raised his glass of eggnog as he leaned on his cane. “It is difficult for us all to be gathered in one place, and it warms this old man’s heart to see all your beloved faces tonight…”

It was the same speech Viserys gave every year. Rhaenyra, Alicent, and Otto were the only ones paying attention.

Joff sipped her non-alcoholic cider as she surveyed the room, trying to distract herself from her nerves (the existence of which she would never acknowledge, ever). Daemon’s eyes were glazed over as he stared in the direction of Alyssa and Viserra, who had been given gingerbread cookies to decorate but were instead licking the bowl of icing. Rhaena was braiding Helaena’s hair. Cregan was trying to listen to Viserys’s speech but kept getting distracted whenever Baela suggestively patted his thighs and knees. Jacaera did her best not to expose herself unnecessarily while she nursed Elenar, and Aegon was rationing the last few drops of his wine as he played with Elenar’s feet. Aemond stared at his phone, and Lucera sat halfway on his lap as she munched on a piece of cake.

When Joff looked at Daeron, he smiled encouragingly at her as if to say, You’ve got this!

Her stomach flipped anxiously. She drank more cider, wishing she’d opted for the alcoholic version.

Viserys finished his speech, and there was a smattering of obligatory applause throughout the room. Beaming, he sat back down. “Would anyone else like to say a few words?”

Joff’s tongue felt heavy. By the time she was able to move it again, Rhaenyra had already stood and raised her glass. “This was a year full of blessings, and the greatest blessing of all was the introduction of my first grandson into the world!”

Jacaera blushed as everyone looked at her while she was breastfeeding. Elenar was too busy enjoying his dairy dessert to notice the attention.

When Rhaenyra finished her toast, Alicent stood and made her own. Then Otto said something about prosperity and good fortune, then Helaena said something about friendship being the best gift, then Cregan thanked everyone for letting him join the celebration…

As the toasts winded down, Daeron smiled again at Joff. Her fists clenched in her lap.

“Well, I think that’s everyone,” Viserys said. “It’s the little ones’ bedtime, so perhaps we should all—”

Joff surged to her feet. “I have something to say.”

Everybody except Daeron looked at her in surprise. Joff was not prone to toasts or speeches.

“Of course! Go ahead, Joffrida.” Viserys sounded delighted.

Joff had written and memorized an entire speech, which she practiced on Daeron, who wholeheartedly approved it. Now, as her entire family gazed curiously at her, she couldn’t recall any of the words.

She took a breath. Just say it. Don’t be a timid mouse. Just say it.

“I’m demisexual.” Joff sat back down in her armchair, not looking at anybody.

There were a few seconds of surprised silence. Then Jacaera started to stand, trying not to jostle Elenar. Aegon helped her to her feet, and she said, “Thank you for telling us, Joff. I’m glad you told us.”

“Yasss! Join the club.” Baela stuck her feet up in the air to show off the bisexual flag-colored sock on her right foot. Her left sock was a mismatch, decorated with eggplant and peach emojis.

Lucera handed her cake plate to Aemond, stood, and stalked toward Joff.

“Don’t hug me,” Joff warned, bracing herself.

“Too late!” Lucera tackled Joff in her armchair. Baela, Rhaena, and Helaena swiftly piled on top of them. The last thing Joff saw before she was buried alive was Daemon raising his glass toward her.

“Denim sexual? What is that?” she heard Viserys say over the chorus of squealing. Rhaenyra and Alicent’s voices buzzed unintelligibly in response. “Oh. I see. Do we need to take out the rainbow flags again?”

Once the clamor died down, Joff straightened her clothes and glanced at Daeron. When their eyes met, his smile widened, and he nodded. She prepared herself for her second announcement. She took another breath. “Also, I’m dating Daeron.”

Daemon, who had been mid-swallow, choked on his drink.

Everyone else exploded into paroxysms of excited disbelief.

“Why didn’t you say anything in the car?” Lucera shrieked as she leapt onto Joff again.

“Congratulations,” Cregan said awkwardly before shuffling to hide his massive bulk behind Baela.

“Is she allowed to do that? Didn’t she just say she’s denim sexual?” Viserys asked nobody in particular. Rhaenyra and Alicent whispered to him again. “Oh. I see. So is that a yes or no to the rainbow flags?”

Otto sighed as he poured his last glass of whiskey for the night. Yule celebrations with the Targaryens were never boring.

“Me too please.” Helaena held out her pink butterfly mug, which had previously held hot chocolate.

Otto stared at the mug, horrified by the sin of mixing single malt forty-year-old whiskey with cocoa dregs, before shrugging and pouring her a generous portion. “Next year, I’m celebrating Yule with Gwayne’s family. My heart is too old for all this excitement.”

“I think Rhaena and I might come with you.”

“I’ll allow it. You two are the only sensible ones here.” They clinked their cups together then took a very, very long drink.