Archive of Our Own

Aemma Targaryen waited in the airport for ten minutes before one of the gate agents announced her connecting flight from Driftmark to King’s Landing—because of Sevenmas—was delayed.

A groan echoed through the small group she’d stood with.

“We know it’s not what you want to hear,” one of the gate agents said, “but there’s nothing we can do.”

“I have to see my family!” a woman shouted hysterically. “I promised I’d be home before the Day of the Mother!”

Aemma’s mother Alicent, if she had her way, would’ve wanted her home for the Day of the Mother too. Not because Alicent Hightower was an exceptional mother—quite the opposite. She’d rather spend time with her half-sister Rhaenyra and her large brood of children, all eight of them, which included her stepdaughters Baela and Rhaena.

Rhaenyra, for all her faults, was a much better mother than Alicent. Rhaenyra at least tried. For as long as Aemma had lived in the Red Keep, all Alicent seemed to do was treat her like her precious golden child, and then when the incident happened, was more than happy to kick her to the curb and pretend she didn’t exist.

Aemma’s grip on her suitcase handle trembled as she tried to shake the memories from her head. Someone asked when the next flight would be, and shouts broke out as the gate agent answered three days after the Day of the Stranger.

She’d have three weeks—practically a month to find a place to stay. Staying with Corlys Velaryon and her aunt Rhaenys was a viable option. Going home (would the Red Keep be considered home anymore?) wasn’t a viable option. Aemma wouldn’t be caught dead being in the same room as her mother—Seven Hells forbid her grandfather.

Calling a taxi to take her to Dragonstone where Rhaenyra lived wouldn’t be too bad; but it was an hour drive away.

Of course, there was—

Before Aemma realized what she was doing, she lugged her suitcase to find an empty chair. Once she sat down, she pulled out her phone from her back pocket, went into her contacts, and unblocked a number. Pressing the call button, the line rang twice before it went through.

Then, a feminine voice spoke on the other side. “Aemma? What’s wrong? Did something happen?”

A moment passed before Aemma answered her. “My connecting flight to King’s Landing got delayed. They said I probably wouldn’t get a new flight because of Sevenmas.”

“Are you still at the airport?” she queried.

She made a confirming noise in the back of her throat.

“Alright—give me ten minutes. I need to feed Arrax and I’ll come pick you up at the airport.”

For a second, Aemma didn’t want to hang up. She hadn’t heard her voice in six years.

“Lucy?” she murmured.

“Yeah, Aemma?”

Another pause. “It’s good to hear your voice.”

“It’s good to hear yours, too.”

Lucerys Velaryon slipped her phone into the pocket of her jeans and petted her cat Arrax’s head before leaving her cozy loft apartment to get to the airport.

Well, first she had to wrangle getting to the subway station. By the Valyrian Gods she loathed getting to the subway station—simply because of shitty drivers. Her grandfather Corlys thought it was hilarious every time she visited High Tide to bitch about stupid drivers and the fact that most people in her apartment building were shit at parking.

Then again, people who lived on Driftmark usually were shit at driving anyway. Lucy didn’t know why people liked to drive when the subway trains worked perfectly fine. Being a princess and the heir to her grandfather’s company, Lucy grew up being transported places in SUV’s with private bodyguards, and then after college she moved into her own apartment, much to her family’s chagrin.

You know what she did, she’d argued with her parents three days after that day. I can’t stay here knowing Alicent Hightower is sitting in the fucking Red Keep and pretending she gave birth to three kids and not four.

And then after that, she moved into her loft apartment. Lucerys wouldn’t lie—she knew she’d gotten the apartment because Corlys and Rhaenys helped her. Being the heir to Corlys Velaryon’s empire meant she had a lot of money to burn. Still, this also meant she could pursue her art in peace.

For the past six years, she grew from infamy, stepping higher into the art world. None of the Targaryens or Velaryons before her were vaguely interested in art, but still, Lucerys still dealt with the usual snide remarks—titles—of nepobaby.

She could handle that. Her talent spoke for itself, and now she ran her own art studio. When Corlys retired, she’d take over the company, but for now, she was free to run her art studio with her personal assistants Addam and Nettles.

Lucy sighed as she stepped into the train, walking to an empty seat. More people poured into the subway train and she pulled out her headphones and clicked a song from her iPhone. As the song crooned in her ears, she leaned back into her seat and waited until her stop was called, and then walked the rest of the way to the airport.

When she walked inside, she pulled out her phone to text her aunt.

Lucerys Velaryon: did u want me to pick you up at baggage claim?

Aemma Targaryen: Yes.

Lucerys Velaryon: ok

She headed to baggage claim and when her eyes scanned through the crowd, looking for a head of white-blonde hair, finally saw the woman who she tried to put into the back of her mind for the six years. Aemma’s hair had grown out, now past her shoulders, straightened and sleek. She wore a simple off-the-shoulder light blue cropped shirt that revealed her stomach, and a muted orange skirt with gold sandals.

When Aemma spotted her, Lucerys stayed rooted in her spot, unable to move an inch, and before she knew it—her aunt stood before her, looked at her with a soft expression that she hadn’t seen in years.

Despite the unreeling emotions that was surging through her, Lucy’s mouth quirked into a small smile as she said: “You packed light.”

Aemma didn’t have to glance at her suitcase when she replied, “I didn't pack light, I packed efficiently.”

The corners of Lucerys’s lips curved into a bigger smile. “I know.”

Her aunt tilted her head, a moment of silence passing between them, cutting through the chatter and busybodies of the airport. When the moment clicked for her, that Lucerys was being humorous, Aemma straightened her head and the corner of her mouth curled into a faint smile.

“Of course you do,” she finally said. Tightening her hold on her suitcase handle, Aemma said: “Let’s go home.”

Something in Lucy’s heart warmed at the word. Home.

Twenty minutes later, when they arrived at her loft, Aemma glanced around her apartment. “Cozy place,” she drawled.

Arrax, upon hearing that her owner had returned, scurried into the room. She stopped in her tracks as she noticed that Lucy had brought someone home, and she tilted her head to the side and let out a curious meow.

“This is Arrax,” Lucy introduced her aunt to her cat as she took off her shoes at the door. “Arrax—this is my aunt Aemma. She’ll be staying with us for the month for Sevenmas.”

Arrax approached her visitor carefully, circling around her once, sniffing the air with her fluffy gray tail in the air—cautious—and she rubbed her pink nose against Aemma’s leg. Rubbing her face against her leg, she purred with endorsement.

“Oh, she likes you,” Lucerys chuckled. Aemma reached down to gently pet Arrax’s head while her eye flickered to where Lucy was walking to the kitchen, and saw her open her fridge and take out two drinks—her niece’s favorite sparkling purple grape Braavosi drink.

Growing up as rich as their families were—and their families were very rich—access to alcohol was inevitable. Aegon, Aemma’s older brother, was infamously a recovering former alcoholic. Aemma would admit she’d swiped a drink in the past when she shouldn’t have; being a princess (both of them) meant that they could have alcohol if they wanted to. No one would deny King Viserys’s third daughter and his oldest granddaughter from his favorite child an alcoholic beverage.

But Lucy wasn’t a big drinker. Aemma knew she’d socially drink, but when she was lone, she drank the fizzy, bubbly non-alcoholic drinks. And having an older brother (knowing what alcoholics acted like), Aemma wasn’t a big drinker either.

“I got you one too,” Lucy said as she walked over to her and offered the can.

Aemma pulled the tab open, the sound of the soda fizzling filled the space. She watched Lucy raise her open can to her lips, taking a sip of the drink. A droplet of the drink lingered on her lips, and her sex throbbed, pulsed inside her when Lucerys’s tongue darted out to collect it. She stopped for a moment, the world around them seemingly crawling to a stop, even as the faint sound of Arrax returning to her bedroom barely echoing in her ears as Aemma placed her sparkling drink on the table.

Lucerys looked at her, eyes gleaming with slight confusion before they widened slightly when she realized what she was doing. Aemma claimed her mouth into a kiss—needy, hungry, desperate. Somehow, never breaking the kiss, she grabbed Lucy’s drink and put it beside hers, so she could pull her niece closer, so she could lick at the seam of her mouth, coax her to part her lips so Aemma could taste her again.

Every fiber in her being told her to gorge on her niece, to finally have the opportunity to have her, taste her, make her hers again. Aemma thought she knew what ache was; what desire was toward her niece; but as she kissed her, took control of her—the control she was always given by Lucerys—she didn’t know what this ache, to desire her niece was at all.

But what she did know was that she needed her. Needed to feel her body pressed up against hers—every inch of her—needed to feel and touch and consume herself in her niece.

Lucerys gasped into her mouth when Aemma grasped her leg, threw it over her hip to press their bodies together, pressed their clothed cunts together. She was bent over the counter, her back sinking into the marble countertop (something her body would definitely scream about later), but all of it vanished from her mind when Aemma ground her cunt against hers, sending a jolt of pleasure up her spine.

It was enough for her to break the kiss, and a moan slipped free from her throat. Lucerys was only allowed to breathe once before Aemma’s lips found hers once more and she began to grind her cunt on hers. Their muffled moans spilled into the kitchen, the only noise that echoed as Aemma and Lucerys greedily chased their pleasure like the first time they gave into the carnal feelings toward one another that they finally decided to pursue. Fully clothed, grinding their clothed pussies against one another until they both came—lost in the pleasure that they chased then breathing heavily to allow themselves to relax again, and then murmur that they ought to do it again.

Lucy’s cry when she came was muffled, but the orgasm that rippled through her body was anything but brief. It spilled from deep inside, overflowed through her and made her body shake. Because she was pinned to the counter, she couldn’t move as Aemma moaned into her mouth, and then sighed, pleased.

Then, they lost themselves in a kiss, and when Aemma finally broke it, Lucerys was momentarily confused, her brain stopping for a second as Aemma dropped her leg and untangled their bodies.

A yearning tugged at Lucy’s chest, but she swallowed as Aemma’s mouth curled into a smile. “You’re a good host, little Lucy. Are you always this nice with your guests?”

“I try to be a good host,” Lucerys said when she finally found her voice.

Aemma chuckled and went to grab her drink. “I think I’ll like it here, then.”

And then her aunt walked out of the kitchen, leaving Lucy reeling as she heard Aemma turn on her TV, and greet Arrax, her cat meowing at the attention this new guest was giving her.

Lucy didn’t blame her. Not one bit.

Lucerys opened her sketchbook and began to mindlessly sketch something as Aemma moved to kneel in front of her. Her pink lips curled into a small smirk when Lucy met her eyes for a split second, her mulberry eyes widening slightly at what she was doing.

“Don’t you miss it?” Aemma asked softly. “What we used to do all the time?”

This. Lucy watched her unzip her jeans and part her thighs open, a shiver running down her spine at the gentle brush of her aunt’s fingertips against her inner thigh, and her breath stuttered in her throat when Aemma pushed her underwear aside to circle her forefinger inside her niece’s cunt. She bit down on her tongue to keep the pathetic whimper that threatened to leave her throat at her aunt’s little noise, feeling how wet she was.

“Yeah,” she admitted after a long silence, feeling warmth continuously burning inside her, slowly giving into the hedonist pleasure that was coursing through her veins. “I miss this—I miss us.”

Aemma circled her clit with the fingerpad of her thumb, thrilling in the little whimper that left Lucerys’s lips. “Put the sketchbook down,”she murmured, “we both know you were too distracted by me to draw anything.”

A second later, the soft thud of Lucy putting her sketchbook and pencil aside on the floor echoed through the otherwise silent room. Aemma murmured for her to scoot closer to the wall, to prop her legs up so she could spread them further and take off her jeans and underwear.

“Our color,” Aemma said with a little sigh, looking at the dark blue fabric, loosely stroking the crotch of her underwear to feel how her arousal had leaked, an appreciative hum vibrating in her throat when she tossed it aside to focus on her cunt.

“Take it off,” she whispered, her eye shifting to look at her. Her Lucerys. Her Lucy. Her little mutilator and angel. “I want to see you with everything I am.”

Lucy surged forward, her hand outstretched to grasp her eye patch, and then removed it in one full swoop. Her sapphire glinted back at her, gleaming like the most precious thing on earth. Her hand pressed into her aunt’s cheek, moving toward her eye, and Aemma moved to press her mouth firmly against hers.

Aemma’s kiss was all-consuming, all hunger, passion, and no softness. She kissed her like a woman possessed—all of the anger and hunger she’d been forced to keep inside her after the incident that’d cost them everything. She pinned Lucy in her place, her tongue sweeping against her plump lips and pushing her way into her mouth, eager to taste her, to have her once more.

Lucerys moaned when Aemma sucked on her tongue and bit her lower lip with her teeth, all the way until it bled. Her pussy grew wetter—damper—at Aemma’s pleased moan at the metallic tang of her blood mixing in with their spit. Her aunt always liked that after Lucy had taken her eye in that evening in the kitchen when she was merely eleven and Aemma was thirteen—and she’d felt a certain way three years later when she was fourteen and Aemma was sixteen, and her aunt sneered at the sapphire she’d given her.

(“And you think this sapphire will bring my eye back? The eye you took?” Aemma had mocked her, lilac eye burning with hatred and resentment.

Lucy had shaken her head, said no. Her innocence had been ripped from her—just as she sliced out her aunt’s eye that night.

“If you think this is an apology for that night…” then Aemma had come closer and whispered. “You should give me something in return.”

Her insides had felt like ice as she thought if her aunt wanted her eye. An eye for an eye. But surprise filled her bones when Aemma suddenly moved forward and planted her mouth on hers.

As a little girl, she’d daydreamed what it would be like to experience her first kiss. She never had a face to think about, and she thought it would feel like fireworks.

But the only feeling that coursed through her veins when her aunt kissed her—and she’d kissed her back—was nothing but a burning inferno that only grew hotter, burned brighter inside her… and then Aemma bit down on her bottom lip, making it bleed.

Instead of yelping in pain or pulling away, Lucy moaned. She moaned—a noise that startled her and Aemma. Aemma pulled away and reared her head back like Lucerys had slashed the other eye out. Then, her eye found the blood that trickled down her chin, and she moved forward, lapping up the blood with her tongue. Aemma licked at her lip, cleaning it free of the wound she’d created, and pushed her tongue back into Lucy’s mouth.

She didn’t know how long they’d kissed this second time, but her hand wandered. She’d never kissed anyone before, never touched anyone like how her classmates giggled about. Lucy’s hand moved down Aemma’s body, feeling her aunt’s form, and then her hand moved over the length of her clothed cock.

Like before, Aemma pulled away and jerked back with surprise. Instead of kissing her again, her lilac eye grew hot with irritation. “Do you think you can touch me like that?”

Lucerys was confused, and in her confusion, she shook her head.

“Don’t touch me,” she snapped, and then, before Lucy could apologize, Aemma strode out of the room, her cock hard and Lucy feeling like something had shifted between them.)

Lucy broke out of the memory when Aemma broke the kiss, cool air brushing over her lips, and a string of spit that separated their mouths. Her eyes were cloudy with lust when her aunt tilted her head upward to look at her—look at the blue sapphire that gleamed bright and her lilac eye that was stormy with desire; with need just for her.

“Come here,” she rasped. “Crawl, sweet pearl.”

Lucerys obliged her. Crawled to her like a needy cat and her eyes were drawn to Aemma lifting up her skirt and pulling down her underwear to expose her pussy to her.

“Touch it,” she murmured. “It’s yours.”

Lucerys looked at her aunt’s pussy—one of the things Aemma had wanted so badly. Every time they met in the hallways of the Red Keep, secretly and away from their family's eyes, Aemma would bury her face between her niece’s thighs, lap at her clit with her tongue, memorizing the length of her sex with her tongue and eyes, and then pin her to the wall and fuck her with her cock.

Then, when they’d satiated themselves, lost themselves in the pleasure, Aemma would trace her outer lips that was coated with her arousal and her spend, collect it on her index finger and bring it to Lucy’s lips. And Lucy would take it in her mouth every time, moan softly at the taste of them together, while Aemma would murmur how special she was to have a cunt.

(“You don’t know how beautiful you are,” her aunt used to whisper. “How jealous I am of you that you have the body I want.” She’d crook her finger that was in Lucerys’s mouth to make her deep throat her finger, coax her to suck her finger like how she sucked her cock. “It would be so easy for me to ask you to slice off my cock just as you sliced out my eye.” Then Aemma would look at her with vulnerability swimming in her eye as she would whisper how much she hated the body she was born into.

“You love me, don’t you?” her aunt whispered. “You love every part of me—even the ugly. I hate that I love you sometimes. You’re all that I want to be.”

Loved. A woman. Herself. Aemma took out her finger from Lucerys’s mouth, and then Lucy gently pushed her aunt’s head down to her bare sex, spread her legs, and murmured: “Lick it as if it’s your own. Use me.”

Aemma needed no other instruction—or invitation. She dove in and licked her until Lucerys was biting down on her lower lip and resisting the urge to moan aloud as her thighs trembled around her aunt’s face, coming on her tongue.

“Mine,” Aemma rasped after she’d made her come on her tongue thrice after. “You’re all mine, aren’t you? Mine to have? You’ll do anything for me, won’t you?”

“Yes.” Lucerys agreed without question.

Then she pulled her down to place her just shy of her cock, half-hard, pre-cum leaking out of the tip, and Lucy looked at her as Aemma told her to treat her as if she was a woman.)

She’d often wondered, in the years that they were forcibly apart, if Aemma found the body she’d always wanted. Now, as Lucy looked at her aunt’s bare sex, saw the light pubic hair that covered her mound, as she spread her aunt’s pussy open with her forefinger and thumb—heard Aemma’s shaky breath—felt nothing but content before she raised her face to her sex and latched her lips to her cunt.

(Her aunt had gotten the body she’d wanted, and Lucy couldn't be happier.)

Aemma moaned, sinking her pale, long slender fingers into Lucerys’s dark curls, positioned her head in the right spot so when Lucy licked her folds, forced them to open so she could lap at her clit, pleasure shot up her spine. It curled inside her belly, the gratification of everything overtaking her mind as she jumped straight-forward into the hedonistic feeling; let it consume her completely.

Many times at night, alone in her apartment in Braavos—with her dog Vhagar in another room—Aemma would lie in her bed, her hand (a pathetic replacement for Lucerys’s everything) between her thighs, stroking her clit as she imagined Lucy before her, heard her soft giggle, felt her fingers and tongue inside her cunt.

She never dreamed she’d get to be here. See Lucy on her knees, lapping at her clit, her hands grabbing her thighs to keep her legs spread and moaning. It was just a fantasy; but now it was a fantasy that was real.

A breath rushed through her, and for the first time in a long time, Aemma felt like she could actually breathe. She was finally in the body she always wanted—and had the woman, the only woman she’d ever wanted to have in her life. Love couldn’t even scratch the surface of how she felt toward Lucy. Her Lucerys, her Lucy—she was everything. She loved her. She was jealous of her. She yearned for her. She wanted her all to herself.

Aemma whined when her thighs trembled, and she came on Lucerys’s tongue, her thighs quaking around Lucy’s face as Lucerys continued to ravish her with licks, lapping at her clit in the position Aemma forced her to be in, licking and sucking her clit until Aemma came on her tongue again for a second time, and Lucy didn’t lift her head until her legs stopped shaking.

Lucerys rose to meet her, still a few inches shorter than her—always would be—and whispered for her to lie down. Aemma did as she asked, and Lucerys joined her on the floor as her hands reached out to pull her shirt up and over her head, and then went behind to unclasp her bra to expose her breasts. Aemma’s breasts were almost the size of hers, her breasts being something that Aemma would jape about while tracing her niece’s nipples with her tongue.

“It isn’t enough for me to memorize your body sometimes,” her aunt would murmur while tracing her body with her tongue and hands. “You don’t know how how badly I want your body.”

Lucerys felt arousal surge in her sex as she wondered if her aunt had asked to be molded in her real body—the one she’d always wanted—to be nearly identical as hers. Aemma undressed her too, tossing her shirt and bra aside, and then she lowered her head to Aemma’s breasts, swirling her tongue on her areola, taking her nipples between her lips and sucking softly.

“Harder,” Aemma breathed. “You don’t need to be gentle.”

Lucerys traced her nipple with her tongue with more force this time around, and then bit down on her areola with her teeth, the light sting of pain causing a ripple of pleasure down her body. Aemma let out a noise between a gasp and groan, the noise foreign to her ears. But Lucy simply soothed the sting with her tongue, swirling it around her areola before releasing her nipple with her eyes on her, and then moved to the other, never breaking eye contact.

When she ceased her torment on her tits, Lucy allowed the string of spit that separated her mouth from Aemma’s breast to linger, and then she darted her tongue out to lick at the air, breaking the connection between their bodies. Then she slid her legs underneath hers, pressing their bodies together, and leaned down to connect their mouths again. Their naked bodies were pressed against each other, and Lucy raised her hips slightly, never breaking the kiss as she ground her pussy against Aemma’s.

“You want to feel it, don’t you?” she breathed through kisses. “Feel your cunt against mine—in the body that you’ve always wanted?”

“Yes,” Aemma managed to say through the pleasurable haze that lulled her mind.

Lucerys chuckled, the noise throaty, and then she subtly raised her hips again, grinding her bare cunt against hers, and rekindled their lips. The muffled breathy noises, the muffled moans, and the building friction as Lucy ground her cunt on Aemma’s until her aunt cried into her mouth, her pussy convulsing and her thighs shaking as she came, her arousal spreading on her thighs and her own cunt made Lucy gasp, and Aemma reached between their bodies to find her clit, stroking it—once, twice, and then three times—and Lucy whined as her orgasm swiftly followed.

But Aemma continued to kiss her, circle and stroke her overstimulated clit between her fingers, and guided Lucy’s own hand to play with her clit as she did with hers, and they both keened when their climaxes washed over them moments later.

Lucerys pressed herself against her, pressed their pussies together, and only lifted her head when Aemma muttered, “Did you get your tits pierced?”

“Huh?” She lifted her head to look at Aemma for a split second, and saw that her aunt’s gaze was fixated on her tits. Glancing down at her breasts, Lucy saw the gold bars with little blue sapphires on the ends that ran across her nipples. “Oh, yeah,” she said causally, like she told her aunt what the weather was, “I got my nipples pierced a couple years ago.”

“When?” Aemma questioned, moving her head down to her tits, and her tongue stuck out to tease the gold bar with the tip of her tongue.

Resisting the urge to shudder, Lucerys answered weakly, as Aemma wrapped her lips around hr piercing: “S-Six months after you left. I—ooh—I needed something d-different.”

Playing around with the gold bar, Aemma rolled it around with her tongue, lapping and stroking, even wrapped her lips around her nipple to suck at it hard—eliciting a gasp—and then sank her teeth around it.

“I n-needed to do something after you left,” Lucy stuttered between her words, panting and grinding her pussy pathetically against hers, the friction between her thighs building up to a sensation she couldn’t ignore.

“I missed you,” she admitted after Aemma raised her head, releasing her momentarily from her sweet pleasurable torment.

Aemma moved toward her, closer, so she could look at her with a lilac eye and a sapphire one. Lucerys’s pretty little carving she’d molded, tainted for herself. “You wanted something that reminded you of me.”

“They didn’t let me have anything that reminded me of you,” she whispered, her voice hollow—almost empty. “Mother let me keep your pictures in a flash drive I was forbidden to touch. I don’t—I don’t know where she’s kept it. I was too scared to look for it, and Alicent told me to lose your number, but I couldn’t do that.”

Tears began to roll down her cheeks as she croaked out, “Father fought for me to at least block your number. He put it all the way at the bottom, told me to never look at it after he bought me a new phone. He said he knew how I felt, a-and… so that’s why he wanted to have me keep some part of you.”

“But it wasn’t enough, was it?” Aemma murmured, reaching closer to her, their lips nearly brushing.

“No,” Lucy breathed out. “I was selfish—I wanted more. I wanted more reminders of you. That’s why I—” She stopped herself for a second, choosing to swallow her words.

“And they’re pretty reminders of me,” her aunt whispered, her eyes flickering down to look at her tits again. Her hands grasped her breasts, squeezing them and playing with her piercings with her thumbs before lowering her mouth to Lucy’s pierced nipples and took one into her mouth.

Lucerys’s breath stuttered in her throat at the first jolt of Aemma’s warm mouth hitting her senses. A whine spilled out of her throat as she felt Aemma’s tongue and teeth tease her nipple before she let go, only to do it again to the other nipple—leaving her a flustered, panting mess when Aemma finally let go, pulled her mouth from her nipples, watching how Lucerys wriggled, her body warm as she took in her niece’s rumpled appearance.

“I like them,” Aemma said, playing with her nipple piercing, watching how the blue sapphire caught in the light.

“Yeah?” Lucerys asked.

“Yeah,” Aemma replied.

Lucerys wiggled slightly, and moved to sit on Aemma’s lap as Aemma continued to play with her nipples, twisted them until her nipples strained against the bar and she was whining, rubbing her wet cunt on her aunt’s thigh.

“You poor thing,” Aemma cooed. Her fingers—pale and slender—moved to slip between her thighs, feeling how Lucy’s arousal had slickened on her skin, coated her fingers, and even further when Aemma slid her them inside her needy cunt.

Lucerys gasped. Then she whined; her hips buckled, grinded on her palm to try and make some friction to soothe the ache that burned steadily in her stomach. When Aemma didn’t move her fingers, her hips moved to try and grind her sex on her palm, but Aemma leaned to press her lips on her ear.

“Stay still.”

Biting down the whine that threatened to leave her throat, Lucy stilled her hips from moving. A few beats of silence came and went as she held her hips in place, before Aemma tilted her head to press her wet lips on hers. The kiss was slow and lazy, and when Aemma pulled away from her, Lucerys’s eyes were hazy and her pupils were dilated.

“Good. You want to feel better, don’t you Lucy?”

She feebly nodded.

“Ride my fingers.” Aemma watched her move her hips finally, a soft breath leaving her niece’s lips as she lifted her hips, easing her cunt slowly from her fingers, teasing Aemma with the sight of her arousal-coated fingers, and how Lucy’s pussy lips clung to her fingers, forced to let go before Lucy rolled her hips down and took her fingers all the way to her knuckles.

The cry that left Lucerys’s lips sounded holy to Aemma’s ears. Lucerys could feel every finger inside her, every joint of her aunt’s fingers buried deep, never wanting to leave. Slowly she built a rhythm that made her lips part, little pants echoing in the room as the wet noises that came from her pussy sounded in her ears. It should’ve made her feel embarrassed like the beginning of her relationship with Aemma; when they were younger and more reckless—thinking that they were on top of the world as they snuck around under their parents eyes.

But it didn’t embarrass her. Lucy rode her aunt’s fingers until her thighs began to shake—a signal that she was close to coming—and she came. Her inner walls clamped down on Aemma’s fingers, preventing her from leaving while her pussy convulsed.

Aemma helped her through her climax, until finally, Lucerys slumped over, breathless with her fingers still inside her.

And they didn’t move for a while. Which, Aemma was perfectly happy about.

“Does it feel different now that you’re yourself?” Lucerys asked later when they were in her bathtub. It was a vintage thing—claw foot tub that was nice and deep, and whenever she was in the mood, she’d turn on her little TV that was hung on the wall and watch a TV show or movie.

“What? Having sex?” Aemma replied, humor dancing in her voice. She turned her head a little so she could look at her niece properly, and the water sloshed between them as she reached to trace her jaw, and then the outline of her lips. “It does… kind of. Sex with you always feels the same; I always feel whole when we fuck. Before, when I didn’t”—her eyes fell down to the lower half of her body that was encased in the water—“when I didn’t have this body, I always felt… altogether, even when I had a cock. But when I had a cock, when I was still… Aemond—I always had to tell myself one day, I’d get the body I wanted. A cunt instead of a cock. A pair of tits that looked like yours. Now that I have them both, I suppose I don’t need to hide anymore.”

Lucerys sniffed.

“You aren’t crying, are you my little niece?” Aemma cooed. “You were always such a gentle little creature—even Rhaenyra thought so. Always so sensitive and caring.”

She sniffed again, but this time, she wiped her tears away. “You’ve always wanted to be a woman; that’s who you’ve always been. I’m just happy you can finally be yourself.”

Aemma chuckled, the noise making her sex pulse. “Maybe to you. But certainly not to my mother. She probably still wants to see her son”—she spat out the word venomously—“for Sevenmas.”

“Was she the one who helped you to Braavos?” Lucy asked, a furrow between her brows.

“No,” Aemma answered. The reply was swift and easy on her tongue. “It was father. Father, he… he always suspected I was a girl. You know father—he never mentions anything to keep the peace.”

Lucerys knew that all too well. When she took out Aemma’s eye as a child, Viserys had tried to play peacemaker, to try and appease her mother and Alicent’s wounds. But it accounted to nothing—both women still loathed each other to this day.

“So he gave you money?” she said softly. “Gave you a new phone and took you to the airport to live without me?”

“He did everything but drive me to the airport,” Aemma recounted with a snort. “He thought it would smooth things over if I left. I think, now that I’m here with you, it was for the best. Father paid for my surgery when I decided I was ready. I was on estrogen for four years before I decided to do the surgery. Father provided the funds. I guess that was his way of showing me he cared.”

It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to tell her I missed you. My life was empty without you. I felt lost—like my life had no meaning without you. She wanted to tell her that she hadn’t accepted any olive branch that Alicent tried to offer the family after everyone discovered their relationship.

But instead, all she did was trace Aemma’s collarbone with the tip of her forefinger, and saw Aemma’s lips quirk upward into a smirk. “You can touch me more, if you want.”

Lucerys allowed her finger to trail down past her collarbone to the swell of her breasts, circle her areola and then circle her nipples with her thumbs until they were hardened buds, and she raised Aemma’s tits so she could lower her head to wrap her lips around the buds, sucking them with a satisfied moan.

Aemma hummed softly, pleasure thrumming through her as Lucerys played with her nipples, doing as she wished with her tongue, teeth, and lips. She stroked her dark curls with a wet hand, and a little groan leaving her lips as Lucy pressed her body against hers; the feeling of Lucy’s breasts pressed against her belly causing a sharp feeling of desire shoot up her spine, and her toes curled in the water as her back arched slightly.

When Lucy lifted her head, her eyes cloudy and dark with lust, Aemma’s lips curled into a smile. The little wanton thing she’d made her niece into—she was a terrible influence.

Later, when they finally got out of the tub, Aemma and Lucy sat on her couch, Arrax lounging on Lucerys’s lap while Aemma scratched between her ears.

“I have a dog,” Aemma told Lucy as they all sat on the couch, watching The Vampire Diaries.

On the TV, Enzo was speaking with Bonnie, and Lucy didn’t turn her head when she asked: “What’s their name?”

“Her name is Vhagar.” Then Aemma looked to the TV and then back at her and demanded: “Is Enzo and Bonnie more interesting than me?”

“No one’s as interesting as you,” Lucy answered easily. “Well… Enzo is very interesting. Did you know his actor puts on an accent for Enzo?”

“No?” Aemma was baffled at the fact that the dark-haired Italian vampire took more of her niece’s time than her. “Wait, he’s not British?”

“He is,” Lucerys said. “He was raised in Ohio and he has an American accent.”

Aemma made a noise as she returned her attention to the TV screen, watching Enzo and Bonnie gaze lovingly in each other’s eyes, and then share a kiss. “He sounds better with the accent.”

“He does,” Lucy agreed, and Arrax meowed in agreement. Aemma scratched behind her ears again, and Arrax purred as Enzo suggested something, and the scene changed to Damon and Stefan and Elena.

“Seven hells,” Aemma groaned. “Can we go back to Enzo and Bonnie?”

“I can mute it,” Lucerys suggested, grabbing the remote.

“Please,” Aemma practically begged.

Lucy laughed, and then she pressed the mute button for the rest of the scene.

A week later, as Lucerys was coming downstairs from her loft, she heard a knock at the door.

“Coming!” she called. Hurrying to the door, she unlocked it and surprise showed on her face when she saw her grandfather and grandmother standing on the other side.

“Grandfather,” she said, “grandmother, is everything okay? Did something happen?”

“We’ve been trying to reach out to you for a week, Lucy,” Rhaenys said, concern in her voice as she asked: “Is everything alright?”

Her face grew warm. The past week, all she’d done was have sex with Aemma, closing off anything else that wasn’t being entangled in bed with her aunt or feeding Arrax. Aemma shared pictures of Vhagar—a German Shepard she’d adopted from a rescue. Vhagar was ten now, three years older than Arrax. Aemma had adopted her after hearing that Vhagar got into a tussle with her former owner, remarking that the scar that had nearly slashed Vhagar’s left eye was a sign.

“Ole girl was meant to mine, just like you,” Aemma had told her. “Vhagar’s a fighter—just like me. Like us.”

“Do you want me to visit you sometime?” Lucerys had asked her.

Aemma’s pale eyebrows furrowed together as she queried, “Just visiting?” She’d moved a little closer, pressed their thighs together, side by side, adding: “You can stay for a while. I have enough room.”

A shiver ran down her spine at her aunt’s words. What Aemma meant was enough space for them to share. She wouldn’t be staying in a guest bedroom while she would be there. Lucerys would be where Aemma—and she—wanted to be: in her bedroom. Preferably naked.

But she’d hesitated and said, “Grandfather Corlys needs me here. He told me he wants to step down in a couple years and retire. And I have the art gallery to run with Addam and Nettles. I probably would only be in Braavos for a few weeks. Not… not as much as I would want.”

As we would want, were her unspoken words. Aemma had looked at her, her eye hardening at her words. Lucy knew what she would say. She’d say that she was choosing someone—something—over her. Aemma had always wanted to have her all to herself; her aunt possessed the same proprietorial streak the Targaryens before them had.

So she gently murmured for her aunt to come closer, spreading her thighs open and shuddering when Aemma flipped her skirt to her stomach, tugged her underwear to the side, and secured her mouth on her throbbing clit.

“…Lucerys?” Rhaenys asked, concerned. “Are you alright?”

Lucy slowly shook her head and covered up her awkwardness with a small smile. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy these—”

“Arrax,” Aemma’s voice called from her cat’s bedroom down the hallway, as her cat dashed to meet Corlys and Rhaenys. “Come back here.”

Her grandparents exchanged a look as recognition filled their faces. But Corlys picked up Arrax, scooped the gray-furred cat and she wrapped around the back of his neck.

As Aemma stepped out of Arrax’s room and asked who was at the door, she stopped in her tracks. She looked at Lucerys, who looked like a deer caught in headlights when they met each other’s gazes. Then her eye flickered to her aunt Rhaenys, who gazed at her with an unreadable expression.

“Niece,” Rhaenys said softly.

The word stirred something inside her. Aemma remembered that night—the night she left King’s Landing, left Westeros, left Lucerys. When she found her father sitting on her bed, old, a shell of the man he used to be, gazing out the window deep in thought. She’d gingerly joined him on her bed, and Viserys told her about his first wife—the woman whose name she’d chosen.

(“Aemma would’ve liked you,” Viserys chuckled. “She would have tried to rein you in—she was never the wild sort. She used to rein in Rhaenyra when she’d get particularly wild.”

Her father, since his first wife’s death, was haunted by ghosts. Aemma, Daemon, his and Daemon’s mother Alyssa, their father Baelon.

“It was why you named me after uncle Daemon, wasn’t it?” Aemma asked, a twinge of bitterness in her voice. “Because you missed him.”

Viserys chuckled quietly. “Every one of my children holds a ghost that haunts me even now. All of my children and grandchildren—even my nieces. Baela and Rhaena remind me so much of their grandmother Jocelyn and their grandfather—my uncle Aemon. But you…” He turned to look at her, a tender expression—something he’d never looked at her before in her life. “You remind me of Aemma most of all.”

“Because I chose her name?” Aemma answered sardonically.

Her father’s mouth curved into a sad smile. “Because you are one of my greatest failures.” When he noticed that her face had fallen, he added: “Losing Aemma, being distant with your sister Rhaenyra and knowing that you are my daughter—and yet I did not do anything.”

Aemma stared at Viserys—her father—with disbelief swimming in her expression. “Father,” she finally said, “Aemma dying—you had no control over that.”

“Her health was frail because of me,” her father confessed. “When your grandfather Baelon died suddenly after your uncle Aemon, Aemma and I were told by grandfather Jaehaerys to have a boy. He’d already slighted your aunt Rhaenys for control of the company; he gave it to me, when I had no desire for it. I’d always want to build, you know.”

“I remember, father,” Aemma said, and a little laugh had escaped her lips when she remembered the large LEGO set he had in his bedroom.

“I never wanted this.” Viserys glanced around his daughter’s bedroom. “Never wanted to have control over the company. I’d wanted to give it to your aunt, but she’d refused. She didn’t want to be given the company—she wanted to earn it. And she felt being given the company when our grandfather was on his deathbed—she felt she didn’t deserve it.”

Her father returned his gaze to her. “Your sister Rhaenyra will do an amazing job with the company, I’m positive of it.”

Aemma hesitated for a moment before she asked: “Father, about the camera footage—”

“I know, Aemma.”

It was the first time he’d said her name—her true name—and the way it rolled off of his tongue made her freeze. Disbelief showed on her face, was clear in her voice when she said, “You do?”

“Of course I do, my dear. I’ve known it the entire time. I may be an old man—”

“—you aren’t that old, father—”

“—but that does not mean I’m a blind one. I know your relationship with Lucerys. I’m very happy for you, darling.”

It was the first time anyone said they were happy for her. Tars prickled in her eyes—even the one that Lucy had sliced through. But Aemma didn’t sniff.

“I understand your mother is… disapproving of it.”

“Disapproving is a nice way to say it,” Aemma snorted. “Mother doesn’t believe I’m a girl. She calls me her son in public whenever she is with her friends. It—” Her voice suddenly welled up in her throat as she admitted: “It hurts me, father.”

“I imagine it does,” Viserys agreed softly. Then, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a new phone, her passport, and to her surprise, and a plane ticket.

“What’s this?” Aemma questioned, dread filling her belly. She took the three things from him, seeing that the plane ticket read ONE WAY TICKET: KING’S LANDING → BRAAVOS.

“I’ll only be able to quell your mother’s fury for a little while,” Viserys said. “I know you aren’t happy here, Aemma.”

Aemma, speechless, couldn’t offer a reply. When she did, she protested weakly: “Father, I can’t leave Lucy.”

“Lucy is the only thing that has you here,” Viserys said. “She is the only thing that keeps you tethered here, but you aren’t happy. You won’t ever thrive here, my dear. Not around your mother. Lucerys has her own part to play here—in King’s Landing. You’ll be happier in Braavos.”

For a split second, she wanted to rebuttal; wanted to argue that her father was wrong—that she would do just fine in King’s Landing. But then she remembered her mother. How her mother would refer to her as my son Aemond and not my daughter Aemma. How her mother and grandfather Otto thought her saying she was a woman— dressing like a woman, planning to take estrogen that she’d pay for—was just a phase.That she’d get over it and realize she was a man.

Any protest died on her tongue and she ended up saying nothing at all.

“What… what happens when I’m ready?” Aemma said, scared.

Viserys reached over to pull her head on his shoulder, and he gently caressed her hair, like a father would with their daughter. “When you’re ready to be as you really are?”

Aemma meekly nodded.

Her father reached into his pocket again and handed her a sleek black card. “There’s enough money for your surgery when you’re ready.”

Aemma let out a pained sob. Viserys pulled her onto her lap and let her weep on his shoulder, murmuring comforting words, and then that night, Aemma boarded the flight to Braavos.)

“Aunt Rhaenys,” Aemma said after she managed to recover from her shock.

“It has been a long time since we’ve seen you,” Rhaenys said as she stepped inside, Corlys following beside her. She took off her shoes at the door as she remarked: “How long have you been in the city?”

“Just a week,” Aemma answered, her body on auto-pilot as she walked to stand beside Lucerys.

Rhaenys made a considerable noise in her throat.

“Have you come to King’s Landing for Sevenmas, Aemma?” Corlys asked.

Somehow, she nodded her head. “My connecting flight to King’s Landing was delayed, and Lucy offered me a place to stay.”

“Have you been treating her nicely, little pearl?” Corlys asked his granddaughter. “Have you been a good host?”

“Yes, grandfather,” Lucerys answered, her body warm with embarrassment. “I have—don’t worry.”

“That’s good.” Corlys said. “Can I speak with you for a moment?”

Lucerys blinked. “Er, yes. We can go in Arrax’s room.”

“You would make an old man climb up to your loft?” Corlys playfully japed. Lucy shook her head in a good-natured fashion and they walked down the hallway into Arrax’s bedroom.

Aemma and Rhaenys, as soon as they heard the door close, Aemma looked at her aunt with slight uneasiness.

“Come,” Rhaenys said, “sit on the couch with me. You and I have much to discuss.”

She followed her to the couch—one of the places she and Lucy had sex. Memories of last night played in her mind as she sat down on a cushion, Last night, while they’d watched a movie, Aemma allowed her hand to wander, sliding into Lucy’s underwear, lazily stroking her niece’s clit while Lucy squirmed on her spot on the couch. It’d led to Aemma straddling her on the couch after she’d coaxed an orgasm from her, to looking down at her as Lucerys reached to remove her eye patch from her face, and she fingerfucled her until Lucy came shuddering around her palm. And then Aemma turned her to the armrest, pushed her niece to lie her head on the pillow before she slid her underwear and tossed it somewhere before sitting on her face, crying out around Lucy’s tongue.

Aemma looked at Rhaenys as her aunt’s eyes swept over her and felt like she was observing her from the inside out.

“Your father is worried about you,” Rhaenys said. Her sudden words made Aemma’s head tilt as she took a moment to allow her words to sink in.

“He knows I’m not being reckless,” Aemma replied, feeling antsy as she wondered what Lucy and her grandfather were discussing in Arrax’s bedroom.

Rhaenys sighed. “Your father misses you, Aemma.” Then, her gaze softened as she said, “He wants to see you for Sevenmas.”

Aemma’s face hardened. Seeing her father meant seeing her mother. She hadn’t kept up with the family after she’d chosen to go to Braavos—get her Masters in High Valyrian and Valyrian History. Most of it was on purpose; her heart was still bruised from licking her wounds. She didn’t doubt her mother had hired some people to keep on eye on her in Braavos—if her mother even had figured out she was in Braavos now—but her mother had no indication she knew (nor did she try and contact her) and selfishly, Aemma liked to keep it that way.

“Will my mother be there?”

“Your mother has been attending Sevenmas in Oldtown with your grandfather,” her aunt answered. “I imagine it will be the same this year.”

Aemma relaxed—just a little. “I’ll go if she isn’t there.”

Rhaenys sighed. “I’ll make sure and ask my cousin to confirm for you.”

A small beat of silence fell over the room before Arrax’s bedroom door opened, and Arrax ran out into the living room. She hopped into the middle cushion that was left vacant, and purred at Aemma and Rhaenys who gently pet her.

“What happened?” Rhaenys asked, getting up from the couch to get to her husband.

Corlys looked at her, his lips twisted into a small line. Aemma saw the expression on Lucy’s face—something that didn’t look pleasant.

“You’ll be joining us at the townhouse for Sevenmas this year, won’t you, Lucy?” Corlys asked after he and Rhaenys put on their shoes, ready to return back to High Tide.

“Of course, grandfather,” Lucerys replied gently. She bid them goodbye—hugged them both—before she closed the door. When she locked it, and Aemma heard Corlys and Rhaenys’s footsteps fade into the elevator, she pushed her niece against the door and pressed her lips against hers.

It took Lucy by so suddenly that she barely had any time to react before her aunt’s tongue sank past her lips into her mouth. But then her fingers sank into Aemma’s white-blonde hair, felt her soft tresses between her fingerpads, and kissed her back until she needed to pull away for a moment to breathe.

“What did your grandfather want to discuss with you?” Aemma asked, her breath hot as it fanned on her neck.

She openly shuddered, goose flesh bumping down her arms. “Grandfather wants to step down next year. He said… it’s time. He’ll be putting his affairs at rest and slowly intergading me more into the office. I’ll be announced as CEO two months after Sevenmas.”

Aemma’s hold on her body tightened as she questioned: “But is that what you want?”

Lucy paused for a moment, and then gently pulled away from her hold. She walked to the kitchen to grab a can of the sparkling grape Braavosi drink, hearing her aunt’s footsteps following behind her.

“Lucy?” Aemma asked.

She cracked the can open before she answered. “Yes.” Lucerys turned around to look at her, offered the second can to her, and then sipped her own. “I’ve always known that grandpa Corlys wanted me to take over. It wasn’t ever going to be Jace. He’s going to take over when mother retires. I’ve always been the one who’s interested in High Tide. Almost everybody knows me by first-name basis anyway. And I don’t mind taking over.”

Lucerys has her own part to play here—in King’s Landing. Aemma heard her father’s words echo in her head at this very moment. She looked at her niece; looked at how her dark ringlets curled perfectly past her shoulders, her dark mulberry eyes absolute. Lucerys looked like the perfect person that Aemma always wanted to be—even when she was a girl.

Aemma always had known she was envious of her niece. Lucerys had everything that she always wanted: love from her family, a position she was promised to inherit as soon as she left Laenor Velaryon’s body into this world, and most of all—she was a woman.

But through all of her jealousy, Aemma didn’t want her niece to have anyone else but her.

“What about us?” Aemma’s fingers curled around the can, her lilac eyes focused on her niece. “What about…” Her voice trailed off, and with a horrifying realization, her voice cracked, like her weakness was finally discovered.

Her Lucerys. Her Lucy. Her greatest weakness.

Lucy put down her drink on the counter and walked to her calmly. Her hands reached out for hers, grasped her free hand as she murmured: “I want to take over for my grandfather when he retires because I’ve always known I was made for it. It’s what I’ve always been meant to be.” Her head moved slightly, looking at her with tenderness in her eyes. “I want us, too. I want you. I’ve always wanted you. I want you so much that I don’t know how to want anyone else as much I do you.”

Aemma's throat felt constricting—closing in on her—when she finally croaked out, “But I don’t belong there. I don’t have a place in King’s Landing.”

“I don’t either.” Lucy’s reply was swift as she grabbed her sparkling drink without turning around and taking a longer gulp of it. She did, however, turn around when she put it back. Her hair bounced when she met her gaze again and confessed:”King’s Landing has never been anything for me since the day you left. I’m much happier here on Driftmark. I still visit my family, but I don’t live in King’s Landing anymore. Grandfather and father always said that before we became as we are now, the Velaryon’s were made of salt and sea. I think that’s what I am.” A small chuckle escaped her lips as she added: “I’m not as temperamental as mother.”

“Or like me,” Aemma added amusingly.

“Or like you,” Lucy agreed with a soft laugh.

Aemma looked at her, watching how the sun caught the glimmer in her eyes, making the ring of her pupils appear almost a soft light pink. But she raised the sparkling drink to her lips and gulped some down before Arrax trotted back into the kitchen and hopped onto the counter, meowing for a treat.

“You’re hungry?” Lucerys sighed to her cat. “I just fed you an hour ago.” Playfully bopping Arrax on the nose, she reminded her, “The vet said not to feed you too much. You know you’re at a good weight right now.”

Arrax meowed in injustice. She even swiped her paw at her, crying for another treat. But Lucy shook her head and reprimanded her softly: “No more treats before your dinner. You need to be at a good weight—or else the vet will put you on a diet. You know what a diet means, don’t you?” She leaned in conspiratorially and whispered: “A diet means less food.”

Arrax meowed again, the concept of a diet horrifying to her ears. She laid on the counter and rolled over for belly rubs, something Lucy enthusiastically gave as Aemma sat at the counter sipping her drink.

“Are you really going to Sevenmas at your mother’s this year?” she queried.

Lucy, without stopping from her current activity, looked up and answered: “Probably.”

Aemma frowned. “Probably? What kind of answer is that?”

This time, she did stop petting Arrax (much to her horror) and sighed. Lucerys looked at her for a moment that stretched on a little too long before she admitted, “I always go every year. I started going after you left because mother said she’d hold her own Sevenmas at the penthouse. Everything… fractured after you left. Alicent started going to Oldtown for Sevenmas and grandfather Viserys never seemed to stop her. With her gone every year, I guess it became easier. And mother’s never been that religious.”

“No one is religious as my mother,” Aemma commented bitterly. Memories of attending the sept every week with her mother flooded her mind. She recalled the first time her mother spotted her wearing a dress; her mother had told her to take it off; told her to wear a shirt and jeans because a dress was girls clothes and Aemond Aemma wasn’t a girl. Not physically, then.

Alicent Hightower’s marriage to Viserys Targaryen made her more devout, more pious, if such a thing were possible. From discussions with her half-sister Rhaenyra, Alicent was always a believer of the Seven as girls, but Aemma supposed clinging to her faith while her husband saw her as a replacement for his first wife—and the only woman he’d ever love—was a way to cope.

“It sounds fun,” Aemma said, “celebrating Sevenmas with your family.”

Sevenmas was celebrated every day for a week—dedicated to every face of the Seven, but others who were causal believers of the new gods or others who celebrated the holiday spent it with their friends and family.

Case in point: Rhaenyra and her family. Compared to her mother, Rhaenyra was a follow of the Old Valyrian gods, even if the Old Gods of Old Valyria weren’t worshiped as devoutly in Westeros. She built a temple and shrines to every one of the Valyrian gods, and she (accompanied by her children) would go pray, and offer offerings. But considering the Faith of the Seven was the dominant religion, they celebrated Sevenmas.

“It is,” Lucy agreed with a small hum. “Father makes the best cheesecake.”

Aemma let out a small snort as she recalled a memory. “Do you remember the incident that made Laenor get booted off of the PTA board?”

Lucy giggled. “He got into an argument with your mother over cheesecake. Father takes his cheesecakes really seriously—anyone would’ve been horrified if they found out Alicent’s cheesecake was store-bought and not homemade.”

Aemma nodded. “They got into a fight in front of the board and scandalized mothers. I’m pretty sure someone recorded it and leaked it onto the internet.”

Lucy’s mouth curved into a smile as she confessed: “I still have the video on my phone.”

Aemma cocked her head. “Has anyone ever told you that you’ve got a vindictive streak?”

Lucerys bobbed her head as a grin played on her lips. “You.”

She watched her niece giggle again, and then Aemma leaned forward to press her lips on hers. Kissing Lucerys was air filling her lungs. The familiar ache that always seeped into her bones—a feeling that she’d grown used to throughout six years—consumed her again as Aemma deepened the kiss, let her tongue slip past Lucy’s lips and into her mouth.

“I want you, too,” she murmured when they finally parted—broke the kiss. “I want you more than anyone I’ve ever wanted before. Wanting you… that’s the only thing I know. Wherever you are is where I want to be. If this is where you want to be… I’ll be here too.”

“I’ve heard Braavos is very nice this time of year,” Lucy said, her voice a touch breathy. “You could show me and Arrax around. I think Arrax and Vhagar would get along.”

Aemma’s hand drifted down her body, felt the length of her on her palm, and she settled her hand on top of the side of her neck to feel her pulse. It thumped on her hand in a steady rhythm, hypnotizing her.

“I’d like that,” she replied. “We can go to Braavos after Sevenmas, if you’d like.”

“I have a week off in March,” Lucy offered.

Her aunt hummed. “Good enough. And Lucy?”

“Yeah?”

“What would your mother say if I wanted to go to Sevenmas at her place?”

A week and a half later, Lucy was breathing heavily. She was in the shower under the shower spray, her entire body convulsing after Aemma had coaxed an orgasm—her third—from her. If it weren’t for Aemma pinning her to the shower tiled wall, she would’ve slid down to the floor.

“That’s three,” her aunt said as she lazily flicked her eyes to look at her. A smirk played on her lips as Aemma looked at her—one lilac eye gleaming with triumph while the other was a gaping, empty hole where she’d removed her sapphire. “Four more for Sevenmas—that’s our tradition.”

“W-We can’t be late to the—” Lucerys was cut off, a moan replacing her stuttered words as Aemma pressed her back to the shower tile, and slid three fingers in her quivering sex. Her pussy clenched down on her fingers, kept Aemma’s fingers encased in the warm, heavenly place that’d just been occupied by her tongue.

“No, of course not, darling,” Aemma crooned in her ear. “We’ll be right on time.”

She worked at coaxing another orgasm out of her, circling her clitoris with her thumb, sending Lucerys spiraling and her thighs quaking around Aemma’s hand.

“Four,” Aemma said, her teeth scraping on her earlobe, uncaring as she fucked her with her fingers, helped her through the current orgasm, and then gave her another, and then another, and then the final seventh.

Lucy whined once Aemma pulled her fingers from her cunt, bringing it to her lips and tasting her niece on her tongue. Her sex throbbed at her aunt’s pleased moan, and her breath wavered in her throat.

Then, Aemma pressed her mouth to hers. Lucerys moaned when the taste of her arousal hit her tongue, unable to move as Aemma kept her locked in place, kissed her until she needed to breathe, and only then did Lucerys break off the kiss to catch her breath. She was sure her lips were bright red, swollen from her aunt’s kisses, and she whimpered when Aemma’s palm slipped between her legs and teased the lips of her cunt with her forefinger.

Aemma’s own cunt throbbed when she felt Lucy’s sex pulse. Her lilac eye darkened, and a moan slipped past her lips when Lucy slipped her hand between her thighs to sink her fingers into her folds, teasing her, slicking her folds with her arousal until she found her clit, and Aemma tipped her head back, moaning at the first stroke on her clit.

“Shouldn’t we be gracious?” Lucy whispered. “Follow in the modest steps of the Maiden and praise the Mother Above?” She stroked her aunt’s clit with more purpose this time, making Aemma’s thighs quiver.

Aemma saw Lucy blink her eyelashes—curled, long and dark—coquettishly. She was reminded of a siren—alluring her, enticing her niece to stroke her clit a little quicker. Lucy looked at her, dark mulberry eyes stormy with desire before she sank her fingers inside Aemma’s sex, thrusting her fingers in a steady rhythm as she continued to rub her clit until Aemma cried out, her thighs quavering around her niece’s hand.

“Seven orgasms for the seven.” Lucerys lifted her head to press her lips on Aemma’s ear. “We ought to worship properly. Our tradition, remember?”

Aemma’s pussy clenched around her fingers as Lucy laughed softly. Her niece helped her through her climax and then pulled her fingers from her pussy, and Aemma watched her slide her fingers past her lips and moan delightfully at the taste of her.

After they left the shower and finally decided to get ready for the party, Aemma applied some lipstick on her lips, painted her mouth dark red with a smoky eyeliner, and watched Lucerys apply her lip gloss and then press her lips together.

Arrax came into the room and hopped on her owner’s bed, meowing pleasantly and then purring when Aemma scratched behind her ears.

Lucerys looked at the both of them through the mirror’s reflection, and her lips curled into a smile when Aemma turned back around to glance at her.

“You ready to go?” she asked.

“Ready whenever you are,” she replied.

Fifteen minutes later, they sat on the subway, watching the subways speed by in the tunnel, their hands intertwined as the subway stopped at every stop, watching people hop on and off.

“Does this make us terrible people if we see someone fighting on the platform and record it?” Lucy wondered in High Valyrian.

“No,” Aemma answered lightly. “It would make us terrible if we didn’t share it with the family.”

Lucy made a considering noise, and they fell silent as the subway doors closed. Three stops later, they arrived at the station. After getting out of the station, Aemma glanced around.

This part of King’s Landing hadn’t changed. It still looked the same—even after six years. Rhaenyra Targaryen lived in a nicer side of the city, and her penthouse was large enough to house all of her children—all seven of them including her stepdaughter Baela Targaryen—and her three partners.

“Have you told your family that I’m coming?” Aemma inquired.

“I’m sure Corlys and Rhaenys told my mother,” Lucerys said.

They arrived at the penthouse ten minutes later, and they were alerted by a loud noise in the penthouse, followed by a shout.

“Joff! Did you knock over a lamp?” A familiar voice—Jace—yelled.

“No, that was Viserys!” Joffrey shouted, offended at the accusation he’d knocked over a lamp.

“Nope,” Aemma muttered, “haven’t changed a bit.”

Lucerys chuckled and then tugged her to the door. She knocked—once, twice, thrice—and they waited a few seconds before the door opened.

“Lucy!” The youngest child of the Velaryon-Targaryen-Strong brood, Vissera, shouted. Her white-blonde hair was in disarray, a wild mess as her chubby cheeks were tinted pink from running away from her parents to answer the door. Viserra glanced to Aemma, and then turned her head and proclaimed: “Lucy brought Aemma to Sevenmas dinner!”

Then, Viserra yelped as her older sister scooped her into her arms, beginning to protest as Lucy tugged Aemma inside the penthouse.

“Your hair looks wild,” Lucy commented. “Were you running away from our mother to answer the door?”

“No,” Viserra said in a voice that pointed to the fact that she was lying.

“Yes, she was.” Rhaenyra Targaryen came downstairs in a red dress, her white-blonde hair braided back in a similar hairstyle that Visenya Targaryen, their ancestor used to wear. Her festive socks slid across the hardwood floor as she took her daughter from Lucerys’s arms.

Viserra hurrphed when her mother put her on the floor, crossing her arms slightly.

Rhaenyra looked at Aemma. “Happy Sevenmas, sister.”

Aemma’s chest constricted just a bit, grew a tad bit warmer when her ears lingered on the word. Sister. “Happy Sevenmas, Rhaenyra.”

Lucerys grabbed Viserra, telling her mother that she’d brush Viserra’s hair in the bathroom, leaving Rhaenyra and Aemma alone. In the open patio area, Harwin’s booming voice—Keep an eye on Vivi, Daemon—and the slightly wafting smells of the barbecue filled Aemma’s nostrils.

“Is Harwin making his ribs?” Aemma asked—to break the silence.

“Laenor bribed him with his cheesecake,” Rhaenyra informed her as they walked into the kitchen. The kitchen and living room were all one open space, and Rhaenyra opened the fridge, reaching inside to grab two drinks, and handed one to her.

“Rhaenys told me that Father is… worried about me,” Aemma said after she took a few sips of her drink.

Rhaenyra paused for a moment, looking at the rim of the glass before she met Aemma’s gaze. “He thinks about you often. Since you left Westeros.” A smile played on her lips as she added: “He was very happy when he found out your surgery went well. But he wishes that you were home.”

Aemma’s mouth fell into a line as she said, “He knows why I left. Everyone does.”

Rhaenyra’s eyes softened. “I know. Maybe Father’s grown soft in his old age, but… he wants to have all of us together again.”

“And do you?”

Her sister looked at her. The corners of Rhaenyra’s mouth tugged upward. “Want all of us together? Of course I do. But that’s up to all of you.”

It shocked her enough to the point where Aemma couldn’t find it within herself to manage a reply. Just then, the sound of the bathroom door opening alerted them to the fact that Lucerys had fixed Viserra’s hair, and they came downstairs. Viserra’s white-blonde hair was combed in a simple braid that fell down her back, and she accepted a small cup of apple juice from her mother.

“Lucerys?” Laenor walked into the kitchen from the patio.

“Father!” Lucy ran to him, and was engulfed into a hug. She laughed when Laenor picked her up without any issue, twirling her around once before setting her on her feet.

His eyes flickered to Aemma, and he held his hand out. “Happy Sevenmas Aemma.”

Aemma slipped her hand in his, hesitant in returning the handshake as she replied, “Happy Sevenmas Laenor.”

Laenor smiled at her, released their hands, and then spoke to Rhaenyra. “Mother just texted me. She’ll be here with Father and Viserys in fifteen minutes.”

“It’ll be just enough time for Harwin’s ribs to be done,” Rhaenyra said.

Aemma’s body froze in place. Lucy, noticing that her aunt had stiffened, excused them by giving a flimsy excuse—that her parents probably didn’t buy but Viserra would—that she needed to show Aemma something in her childhood bedroom, and they headed upstairs.

As Lucy led Aemma upstairs, memories of their relationship before everything had crashed and burned flashed in her head. All of the times when Lucerys would sneak her upstairs to her bedroom and have sex whenever they knew Rhaenyra or Laenor or Harwin—even Daemon—weren’t home. Unlike the Red Keep, the penthouse wasn’t littered with cameras everywhere.

(But Lucy and Aemma hadn’t cared about the cameras in the Red Keep either. They’d fucked anywhere with cameras there too.)

“…Have I ever shown you the jewelry collection you bought me a while ago?”

Aemma, snapped out of her thoughts, blinked in surprise. “You still kept it?”

They entered her bedroom, and a thrill ran down her spine when Lucy locked the door behind her. “Yeah,” she answered when they locked eyes. “I just didn’t bring it with me when I moved.”

“Why?” she queried, moving to sit on her bed. Lucerys’s familiar blue comforter was still as soft as she remembered, with five pillows on the bed. When she was younger, when they were more reckless, Aemma used to wonder if Lucerys had ridden her enough, her scent would rub off on her comforter and blankets and pillows—that her niece would have a piece of her whenever she wasn’t here.

A memory of Lucerys straddling her, her cock nestled in her niece’s cunt, mixed in with Lucy’s soft cries and her soft breaths flooded Aemma’s brain, and her pussy pulsed. She shifted slightly on the bed when Lucy sat beside her.

“I just didn’t want to,” Lucy said. “It just… didn’t fit.”

“Didn’t fit?” Aemma echoed.

Lucerys got up from her bed and walked to her dresser. She rose to her tiptoes, giving Aemma a glimpse of her ankles. Her eye trailed upward, going past Lucy’s dark blue skirt of her dress, eyeing the zipper in the back, and her body grew warm as Aemma looked at her niece’s dark wavy hair. She remembered how she’d tugged Lucerys’s hair, how her strands felt between her fingers. Then she saw Lucerys pull out something from her drawer—a gold necklace with a blue sapphire heart; the first necklace that Aemma had bought her.

Aemma felt a pull in her body. A possessive feeling surged through her, and before she could think, she got up and walked to be by her side, gently taking the necklace from her niece’s hands, and murmured for her to pick up her hair.

Lucerys lifted her hair and felt the small shudder that ran down her body when Aemma fastened the necklace around her neck.

“I bought you this for your birthday,” Aemma murmured, a pale finger tracing the golden chain, going down to the blue sapphire heart. “And for my birthday, you bought me the same necklace, but with a red sapphire.”

“Do you still have it?” Lucy asked.

“Of course I do,” Aemma said. Her eye flickered to her face, and she asked: “Why didn’t this come with you when you moved?”

“I couldn’t part with this necklace,” Lucy confessed. “I couldn’t… part with any of the jewelry in this box. When you left, I felt… an emptiness. I tried to move on with my life. And when I look at this”—her eyes glimpsed down at the sapphire, and then she looked up at her—“I think about you—and I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you, Aemma.”

The emotion that ran through Aemma Targaryen’s body was a surging feeling that made her reach for her niece. Made her press her hands on either side of her face and lean forward to kiss her.

“I love you,” Aemma said between her kisses. “I love you. I’ve never stopped loving you. And I won’t ever stop.”

Lucy and Aemma stumbled to Lucerys’s bed, and Aemma didn’t break the kiss when her body fell onto her niece’s bed, and cool air brushed against her lips when Lucy pulled away and sank to her knees. Aemma’s breath hitched in her throat when she glanced down to see her lift up her skirt. Lucy’s hand brushed on Aemma’s knee as she parted her legs gently, and Aemma continued to watch as she felt Lucy’s breath caress her skin while she moved closer to her clothed cunt, and a burst of electricity ran down her spine when Lucerys pushed her underwear to the side; her fingertips were smooth and gentle—and Aemma’s breath came out shaky and hitched when Lucerys’s tongue finally swept over her clit.

Aemma didn’t take her eye off of Lucerys. She kept her gaze firmly on her while Lucy lapped at her clit, brought her to an orgasm that was silent—because Aemma wasn’t looking to alert any of the family upstairs to her niece’s bedroom—but her mouth fell open whilst her body wriggled on Lucy’s bed until her climax quelled, and Lucy moved her head from her thighs.

Lucerys rearranged her clothes, and finally rose to her feet. Some of her lip gloss rubbed off, but Aemma didn’t care. When Lucerys came to her, lips glistening with remaining lip gloss, her spit, and Aemma’s arousal, Aemma thought she was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen.

“Let’s go downstairs,” Lucy said, “before mother starts coming upstairs and starts asking what’s taking us so long.”

They returned downstairs. In the dining room, Lucy’s brothers were standing near the side door that connected to the patio—Jacaerys and Joffrey turned their heads in Lucerys’s direction, and laughter filled the room when her brothers came to engulf her into a hug.

“Hi, Aemma.” Joffrey was the great to greet her. He pulled out his phone from his pocket and unlocked it to show her a video of his dog Tyaraxes.

“He’s very well behaved,” Aemma noted, impressed.

“He’s my best friend,” Joffrey chuckled as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. “Daeron and Desmonda adopted him for my birthday.”

Aemma blinked. “Daeron? My brother Daeron?”

“Unless there’s another Daeron, other than Uncle Vaemond’s son I don’t know about.” Joffrey shrugged.

She blinked again. Another one of Alicent Hightower’s children who’d rebelled against her, it seemed. For a moment she wondered what Aegon and Helaena—her two older siblings—were doing at this moment. She thought about them from time to time, especially after hearing down the grapevine that they’d moved out of the Red Keep. Aemma didn’t keep too tight of a network to keep up on her siblings, but even Daeron?

This was giving her whiplash. “Is he coming?” she finally asked.

“Oh, yeah.” Joffrey pulled out his phone again and sent off a text—to Daeron and Desmonda, Aemma presumed—and told her to smile (which she did, albeit awkwardly), before the sound of the text being sent whooshed in the room. “Now Desmonda’s really going to convince Daeron to come.”

Aemma arched an eyebrow, questioning: “My brother needs convincing to go somewhere?”

Joffrey gave a toothy grin. “Sometimes. He’s so uptight sometimes you know. Daeron just… needs a little push; some convincing to do something that Desmonda and I want.”

Jacaerys and Lucerys made mock disgust noises. “I didn’t need to hear that,” Jace said.

“I don’t rub it in when I tell my family I’m going home to my two girlfriends,” Joffrey huffed. “So excuse me if I tell Aemma that my girlfriend and I have convincing methods to take her brother anywhere and everywhere we want.”

Jace rolled his eyes while Lucy giggled. Then, Jace looked at Aemma, and said: “Happy Sevenmas, aunt Aemma.”

Aemma hesitated for a moment, and then replied: “Happy Sevenmas, Jacaerys.”

Ten minutes later, while Lucy and Aemma were in the kitchen helping Laenor frost cookies—I don’t think the cheesecake will be enough, Laenor had said, I think we should make cookies too—the doorbell rang and Joffrey hopped off the couch, shouting “I’ll get it!” before sprinting to the door.

“It’s probably Daeron and Desmonda,” Lucy said without lifting her head to glance at the door. “Well, it could be Baela and Floris too. Jace said they were gonna run a little late.”

“A little late?” Aemma questioned, before she exchanged a knowing look with Lucerys, and they shared a smirk.

“You’re disgusting,” Joffrey said over his shoulder in a sing-song voice, and then opened the front door.

“Hi Joff, sorry, we bumped into Baela and Floris at the store.” Desmonda Manderly looked apologetic as she looked at her boyfriend. “And Daeron was debating on which bowl looked nicer for the noodles.”

“Is it the stir-fried noodles?” Daeron inquired and stepped aside to let in Desmonda, Daeron, Baela, and Floris. He glanced out the door and squinted his eyes before waving and calling out: “Over here Helaena!”

“You invited Aegon and Helaena?” Aemma aked Laenor quietly.

“Rhaenyra did,” was Laenor’s simple answer, followed by a small shrug. “She wants all the family together—well, except your mother of course.”

“Good riddance,” Baela agreed with her uncle as she walked into the kitchen, having taken off her shoes at the door. She opened the fridge to put the bottles of sparkling apple cider away.

“Baela,” Floris sighed as she joined them in the kitchen, her dark tresses getting tied up into a ponytail to keep her hair away. “Do you need anymore help on the cookies?”

“Cookies?” came the small voice of Jaehaera Targaryen. The little girl ambled over, followed by her twin Jaehaerys. “Can I have a cookie, auntie Lucy?”

“Hera, I think it’s too early for cookies,” a rough male voice said.

Aemma saw the moment Aegon looked at her. Her older brother looked surprised for a moment, and then chuckled softly. “Look, Hel—it’s Aemma.”

“Hello, Aemma.” Helaena greeted softly. “You look well, sister.”

“You’re auntie Aemma?” Jaehaera looked at her with wide eyes. “Mama and papa talk about you a lot.”

“Do they?” Aemma raised an eyebrow in Aegon’s direction.

“Only the good things, little sister,” Aegon said.

"Auntie Lucy told us about the time you dumped water on papa’s head,” Jaehaerys said.

Lucerys hid her smirk as she finished frosting a cookie, while Aegon shuddered the memory.

“It was to help your father to not sleep in,” Aemma informed with a cheeky smile.

“Does that mean we can do it?” Jaehaera asked.

Aegon’s face became horrified when Aemma nodded in agreement. “Of course,” she replied sagely. “It’s always nice to—”

The doorbell rang again.

“That must be my parents and Viserys,” Laenor said, wiping his hands on his apron. He moved to answer the door, leaving the children to stand in the kitchen.

“Traffic was terrible,” Corlys said after Laenor let him, Rhaenys, and Viserys inside. The door closed behind them as he added: “Now I understand why Lucy always complains about terrible drivers.”

“The world needs more and better public transport and less cars,” Lucy piped up, not looking up from frosting another cookie. Putting down the piping bag, she grabbed two cookies—her first ones, the terrible ones—and gave them to Jaehaera and Jaehaerys.

“Wait,” she said just before she handed them over, “do you mind if they’re a little ugly?”

“Papa always says the taste is what matters,” Jaehaerys said.

Lucerys’s eyes flickered to Aegon for a moment before returning to her cousins. “He’s a smart cookie.” Jaehaera and Jaehaerys giggled at her comment, and then took the cookies from her hands.

“Giving out cookies early, Lucy?” Rhaenys said, walking over to greet her grandchildren, and two giggling great-grand niece and nephew.

“Just for Jaehaera and Jaehaerys,” Lucerys said with a grin.

“Playing favorites,” Joffrey said as he side-stepped to join his partners and Baela and Floris on the couch.

“Am not,” Lucerys refuted.

“Are too,” Joffrey said.

“Am not—”

“Are too—”

“Joffrey, I swear—”

The side door opened. Daemon stepped into the house, followed by Harwin. He saw the bickering Lucerys and Joffrey and sighed. He looked at Viserys, calling out: “Do you see what I have to deal with, brother?”

“That is the life of a father, Daemon,” Viserys chuckled.

Daemon shook his head, walked to the kitchen to put the pans of ribs on the counter, and then asked Aemma if she could grab the aluminum foil from the top of the freezer.

Helaena helped her father to the living room to play with Jaehaera and Jaehaerys, and by the time Aenma glanced to the living room, their father was already engrossed in watching the TV.

She didn’t get a chance to talk to him after everyone gathered in the dining room and ate. She sat between Jaehaera and Jaehaerys while Lucerys sat across from her, sandwiched between Jace and Joffrey.

“I heard you and Aegon were talking about moving to the Dornish Marches, sister,” Rhaenyra said to Helaena.

“The Dornish Marches?” Joffrey asked. “Doesn’t Clementina Celtigar live there with Criston’s uncle?”

“I don’t blame her,” Floris said with a little laugh. “Everyone knows Cuger’s the better Cole.”

“Do you find him more attractive than me?” Jacaerys asked, a hint of horror in his voice.

“No one’s as attractive as you,” Floris reassured. But the corners of her mouth quirked into a smile as she turned to Helaena’s direction and added: “I’ve been to the Dornish Marches. I think you’ll do just fine there with Aegon and the children. There’s a bit of farmhouses in the mountains and the lakes there are gorgeous.”

“I heard it’s quieter there,” Aegon said.

Floris nodded in agreement. “Father used to take me and my siblings there for vacations. It’s great if you’re looking to get away from all the noise.”

Aegon and Helaena exchanged a look. “Do you know if there’s any housing available?”

“I can check for you tonight,” Floris answered. “Can I text you the details?”

“That’s sounds great,” Helaena confirmed with a smile.

After everyone had satiated themselves with food, Aemma murmured to Lucerys that she needed to step outside for a smoke, and she slipped away to the patio.

The sounds of the city below her filled her ears. It reminded her of all the times she used to sneak out with Lucerys while the Red Keep slumbered—determined to have time together while evading her father’s guards.

Just as Aemma rested her cigarette on her painted lips and pulled out her lighter, the side door opened, and her head whirled around to see her father step out and close the door behind him.

“Do you have one more?” Viserys queried when he joined her at the balcony.

Aemma plucked her cigarette from her lips, leaving a ring of dark red lipstick left behind as she asked: “Did your doctor say it was alright?”

Viserys gave her an impish smile when he replied, “I’ll tell him it’s Sevenmas. I ought to spoil myself with one cigarette—it’s the holidays, dearest.”

They shared a mischievous look before Aemma pulled out a cigarette from the box and handed it to her father. She flicked open her lighter and the cigarettes burned before she turned to look out at the aimless sprawl of King’s Landing.

Aemma, after inhaling a hit of nicotine, watched the cigarette butt burn orange, breathed out the smoke before inquiring: “Did you know Aegon and Helaena wanted to move?”

Viserys blew out some smoke and tapped the end free of ash. “Somewhat. Helaena called—she said they were discussing the thought of moving. Your mother is relentless trying to keep her children near her. After you left, it seemed all your siblings fell into place with leaving your mother.”

Aemma cocked her head. “Does she blame me?”

Viserys took another drag of his cigarette before he sighed. “She never tells me, but I believe she does.”

“Do you…” Her voice wavered when she managed to finish with: “Do you blame me?”

Her father’s eyes softened. “No. No, of course not. Whatever gave you that idea, darling?”

Aemma swallowed the lump in her throat. Anxiety had bubbled up in her chest, traveling to her throat as she remembered her mother’s words the night everyone had discovered her relationship with Lucerys.

“I’ve dealt with your nonsense long enough,” Alicent Hightower’s words came back to her as Aemma took another hit of her cigarette. “All these years of dressing in women’s clothes, going by your father’s dead first wife’s name. When will you stop this, Aemond? And now you’re with Rhaenyra’s harlot daughter? Don’t you remember what she did to you?”

She averted her eyes slightly as she muttered: “Mother told me it was still phase. All… all of this.”

Viserys’s lips curled into a frown. “That was uncalled for.”

Aemma took a longer drag of her cigarette before blowing it out, watching the gray wisps of smoke disappear into nothing. “She called it nonsense, too. Being a woman, being with Lucerys—all of it. You can’t blame me for thinking this way, father. I leave, then Aegon and Helaena follow, and now I find out that Daeron’s dating Joffrey and Desmonda Manderly?” She chuckled, the noise bitter as she finished with: “You know why I think this way, father. You’ve chosen to be blind for a long time—but you can’t be blind to this. Not this. Not with your wife.”

She turned to look at him, holding her cigarette between her fingers. Aemma watched her father for a while. She watched the muscles in his jaw work as the guilt melted from his face, and then resolve washed over.

“You’re right,” Viserys finally said.

His admission caught her by surprise.

“Your mother does blame your siblings leaving her on you,” her father confirmed. “She blames my pulling away on you as well.” Viserys sighed and took another drag of his cigarette to calm himself before he chose to speak again. “After Daeron moved from Oldtown to King’s Landing three years ago, your mother presumed he would move into the Red Keep. At least, she told me, one of her children would be by her side; to fill her days when three of her children chose to leave her. But Daeron chose to be with Joffrey and Desmonda.”

“Did mother know Daeron was with Joffrey and Desmonda?” Aemma queried.

Viserys chuckled. “No. Neither did I, I must confess. Daeron met Joffrey and Desmonda while on break from university. Another one of my children keeping their relationships right underneath my nose.”

“It must’ve wounded mother,” Aemma said.

“It did.” Her father’s shoulders lessened. “When I began to pull away from her, I suppose she realized how alone she was. Your mother and I have been separated for quite a while. Aemma. I wouldn’t be surprised if she served me divorce papers in the new year.”

“Would she?” she questioned.

“Stranger things have happened, Aemma.”

They stood in silence for a while, finishing off their cigarettes until the side door opened, catching their attention. Lucerys stepped out into the patio, smelled the leftover lingering nicotine in the air, but had a smile on her face as she closed the door behind her.

“There you two are,” Lucy teased. “Mother’s been asking for you both to come back inside before Jaehaera and Jahaerys eat all of the cheesecake and cookies.”

“Well, we ought to get back inside then,” Viserys mused.

“You go ahead, father,” Aemma said. “I’ll be behind you.”

As Viserys crushed his cigarette and reached the door, he told Lucerys: “You’ll make sure Aemma comes back inside with you?”

“Of course, grandfather,” Lucy reassured him.

When Viserys closed the door behind him, leaving them alone, Aemma heard Lucerys approach her from behind, and wrap her arms around her. Aemma took the last drag of her cigarette, inhaled the nicotine in her lungs before exhaling the gray smoke that danced in the breeze.

Crushing her cigarette on the balcony, Aemma lazily turned her head when Lucerys let go of her to stand by her side. Lucerys’s cheeks were glowing with a beautiful red glow from playing with her cousins, her dark mulberry eyes bright from laughter. She leaned forward to grasp her chin with her forefinger and thumb and brought their mouths together, intent on kissing her until Lucerys pulled away, muttering: “That tastes awful.”

Aemma chuckled, the noise throaty. “I don’t smoke often.”

“I see why.” Lucerys wrinkled her nose. “You’re lucky I love you.”

“I’m lucky every day,” Aemma agreed with a soft hum.

They stood on the balcony for a few more moments before they headed back inside. Upon joining their family in the living room, Jaehaera handed Aemma a cookie.

“Thank you,” Aemma said. Jaehaera beamed before she rejoined her twin on the floor to play.

She met Lucerys’s gaze, watched her slide a forkful of cheesecake into her mouth, and saw her lips curl into a smile when Jaehaera fell into heaps of giggles at a smear of cheesecake on Daemon’s nose.

“You should be more careful brother,” Viserys teased.

Daemon rolled his eyes. “Easy for you to say, brother. You’ve piled your plate with cheesecake and cookies.”

“Well, when Laenor makes them, how could I not?” Viserys replied, a hint of amusement in his voice.

“He may take me away from you, Daemon,” Laenor japped playfully from where he sat between Rhaenyra and Harwin.

“Over my dead body,” Harwin grumbled.

Lucerys giggled into her palm.

Aemma and Lucerys arrived back into the loft apartment with Lucerys’s giggles that filled the air. Arrax scurried to greet them. She purred with satisfaction when Aemma scratched behind her ears, and flopped happily on her back for belly rubs—something else Aemma was more than happy to provide while Lucerys took her shoes off at the door.

When Arrax was scooped up into Lucy’s arms so Aemma could take off her shoes at the door, she cooed to her cat, “Poor thing, you were probably so lonely while we were gone.”

Arrax meowed in the affirmative, rubbing her nose against Lucerys’s cheek. While Lucerys cooed over her, Aemma walked to the bathroom, and Lucy followed after her aunt. Arrax was put on the floor, and she scurried back to her bedroom just as Lucy closed the bathroom door behind her.

After they took off their makeup, Aemma and Lucerys brushed their teeth—and put on their skincare—and went to the living room. Arrax sprawled out on their laps, meowing contently as Aemma gently stroked her spine, and Lucerys patted her head.

“I hate him,” Aemma said as she watched Stefan and Elena interact on the screen. “How long before he dies?”

Lucerys didn’t move an inch when she answered: “Longer than you think.”

Aemma grumbled unhappily. “Should’ve died a long time ago.”

“Your words to my ears,” Lucerys agreed with her.

After Arrax enforced her bedtime routine of ten p.m, they went to bed. Lucerys had tucked in Arrax, pulled the blanket over her, and patted her head as Arrax snuggled into the pillow, and fell asleep.

Aemma sighed when Lucerys slid into bed beside her, a small shudder running down her body when her niece’s hands grasped the hem of her sleeping shirt and tugged it up and over her head. She kept her gaze on her, watched her as Lucy looped her fingers into the waistband of her sleeping shorts and tugged those down too, followed by her underwear, leaving her bare.

Then, with a mere flick of her eye when Lucerys shifted on the bed, Aemma watched her tug off her nightie, light blue silk that rippled on her body and joined Aemma’s night clothes with a soft thud.

Lucerys moved closer to her, placed her knees on either side of her body before lowering her head to kiss her. Lucy’s kisses were softer than Aemma’s—something that Aemma could occasionally do. Her possessiveness always overruled her gentleness for her niece. The thought of wanting to corrupt her, posses her, remind anyone who looked Lucerys’s way with the intent to try and woo her always lingered in Aemma’s mind. In her eyes, Lucerys was hers and hers alone. She’d marked her, a mark everlasting that tied them together forever, caused them to be in each other’s orbit no matter how hard they tried to be separated.

Lucerys kissed her until she broke away, leaving a string of spit to be the only thing that’d connected their mouths, and then dragged her spit-covered lips down from her breasts to her stomach, and stopped just shy of her cunt. Her eyes were transfixed on her sex, looking at the soft dusting of her pubic hair that covered her pussy, and then her eyes flicked to her inner thighs. With a hungry expression in her eyes, Lucerys slid her hands to Aemma’s inner thighs and parted them, revealing her folds.

Aemma’s breath stuttered in her throat and a weak whimper vibrated in her throat at Lucy’s tongue darting out to press on her folds, force them to open so she could lap at her clit—needy and wanting of attention.

“It’s Sevenmas,” Lucy said in a husky voice when she brought her to orgasm, uncaring of Aemma’s squirms on her bed, watching with dark eyes how she wriggled on her comforter, and leaned to brush her spit and arousal—Aemma’s arousal—coated lips lightly on hers. “Seven orgasms for the seven.”

Aemma’s head became murky. Her head lulled, and pleasure consumed her mind as she mindlessly nodded. But she saw enough when Lucy’s index finger slid down her legs, crooked inside her cunt, and Aemma’s lips parted open to taste her niece on her tongue.

Lucy sighed, whimpered, when Aemma’s teeth scraped on the first joint of her finger. But she kept her eyes on her, watched as she dragged her lips to the tip of her finger, and then take her finger to the knuckle.

“Little showoff,” she muttered. “You make me do it, and then you do it yourself to prove you can just do it better?”

Aemma smirked between her finger. Lucerys chuckled softly—shaking her head—and then slowly slid her finger out of her mouth, keeping eye contact with her; she watched every expression on her face changed—the desperation that dawned on Aemma’s face when Lucy wouldn’t move, choosing to watch her instead, and allow the cool air to nip at her body.

“Lucerys,” she said—and the demanding tone in Aemma’s voice made the assertive feeling that coursed through her veins lull her momentarily; knowing that she had this affect on her aunt and was the only one who could, well, no one could not say it was a horrible thing to feel proud about.

“I know, I know,” she murmured, then shifted lower, returned to Aemma’s cunt, and parted her thighs and moved forward.

Aemma’s shaky gasp filled the loft as Lucerys continued with her ministrations on her clit, and even a pleased hum vibrated in Lucy’s throat when Aemma’s hand sank into her dark tresses, to keep her head planted between her legs, lapping at her clit until her back arched and she announced her orgasm with a soft cry.

But her hand remained gripping her niece’s dark hair, encouraged her to bring her to the brink of orgasms—two, three, four—and her hiccuped cries and her body wriggling on the bed didn’t deter Lucerys from bumping her nose on Aemma’s overstimulated clit—the motion making her let out a full-body shudder.

Lucy raised her head from Aemma’s pussy, her lips and chin glistening with her arousal as she rose her body, murmured for her to sit up.

And Aemma did as she asked. She’d do anything—everything—for her. She watched her with a look of awe as Lucerys turned to lie linear on her bed and tug her to slide her slippery sex on her tits, and the sensation of her nipple piercings brushing on her clit made Aemma gasp, and the realization filled her face as Lucerys made her do it again. Lucerys’s hands slid underneath her thighs, grabbing them to keep her in place as she gently coaxed her to to ride her tits—make her herself come on her breasts, to let her feel how her piercings would rub on her needy clit, again and again until she came.

Aemma couldn’t stop looking at her, looking at how pleased Lucy looked as she rode her tits, moaning as her nipple piercings rubbed on her clit perfectly, stimulated her closer to an orgasm that slowly crept on her, starting from her spine to her belly. When the coil in her belly snapped, Aemma came on her niece’s breasts—on the nipples that were pierced with the gem of their color, the symbol of her branded on her niece’s body.

She nearly thought her vision went black for a moment. The intensity of this orgasm—her fifth one—she thought it would be the one that would make her plea that it was too much, that Lucerys could just give her two more and fall asleep, but the little voice in the back of her head told her no. Told her that she needed to come like this—wet and messy and for it to be all for her, her niece, her mutilator, her lover, her everything.

When her thighs ceased shaking, Aemma thought Lucy would carefully pry her off, put her in a new position to give her sixth orgasm to her, but to her surprise, Lucy gently rocked her hips, made her breasts slicker than they already were with more of her arousal; made her nipple piercings brush on her clit once more, making her whine.

“You’re doing good,” Lucy whispered. “You came so pretty for me. I want you to come on my tits again—can you do that for me, aunt?”

A shiver ran down her spine at the praise. It made her cunt throb—pulse—made her feel a surge of energy that wasn’t there before to make her slide her slick sex on Lucerys’s bosom, made her slip into the intoxicating hedonic feeling that called out to her like a sinful temptation that the Seven told her to resist.

You must be pious, she remembered the teachings of the Seven. You must never sin. And if you have committed a sin—you must repent. Everyone must be pure and clean in the eyes of the Seven.

This was purity. This was what it meant to be clean. To be broken down and remade anew. Aemma rode her—felt every caress of her niece’s piercings on her clit that brought her closer to come—and reached her peak with a cry that wracked her entire body. Aemma moaned and tipped her head back, her lips parting to allow herself to be consumed with ecstasy.

She slowly came down from the pleasurable haze that warped her brain, her moans becoming soft breaths as she finally was released from her high.

Lucerys gently murmured for her to move, and Aemma slipped off of her breasts with shaky thighs. Lucy told her to get off the bed—words that caused her to pause for a moment.

“You don’t want me on the bed anymore?” Aemma asked, her voice a little dazed.

“We can get back on it later,” Lucy said, a light tone of reassurance in her voice. “You want to touch me, don’t you?”

(She always wanted to touch her. Always wanted to have her writhing beneath her, to take her pleasure again and again until Lucy didn’t protest—to just let her take whatever she wanted. To be where she molded her just as she did to her once.)

Aemma slid off the bed and heard Lucerys join her side, and when her niece’s hand slipped into her own, she let her guide her, put her wherever she wanted her to be.

Lucerys put her before the window, and Aemma watched her walk to gently open the curtains just enough to let a silver of moonlight into the room, washing over their bodies, painting them in light.

Lucy came back to her, stood in front of her while her backside was exposed to the window, but before Aemma could ask what she was doing, Lucy sank to her knees and leaned up to look at her.

“You trust me, don’t you?” she asked.

Aemma nodded. Of course she did.

Lucerys didn’t say anything more, only locked in her knees and let her hands travel to Aemma’s thighs, pry them open and expose her bare cunt to her again. Then, she raised her head to wrap her lips around her clit, and sucked.

Aemma nearly swayed. She let out a soft noise—pleasure sparking inside her, electrified her to the very bone. But she was transfixed on her niece; on watching Lucy’s tongue dart out and lick her clit, circle it with the tip of her tongue, lavish it with even strokes that didn’t conceal the whimpers that left her lips, and Aemma closed her eyes and tipped her head back, her moans becoming soft, fast breaths as she reached her high, let it consume her, let it eat her and spit her out when her cry filled the bedroom again.

Lucerys, on her knees, felt her thighs tremble when Aemma’s climax made her cunt tremble on her face. But she didn’t care. Tonight was Sevenmas—and they’d celebrated as they always did. She helped Aemma down from her high, licked her until Aemma was keening, telling her she had enough and only then she released her mouth from her aunt’s cunt—the cunt she made her own.

Her body thrummed with energy, everything she needed—getting out of her art block, inspiration burned through her veins as she looked at Aemma from head to toe. Aemma, naked, and bathed in moonlight.

Lucy’s fingers itched, wanting her art supplies. She wanted her paints, wanted her paint scraper, wanted her paint palette, wanted her paint brushes, and she wanted to stand before her canvas and paint her aunt from memory.

“What’s wrong, Lucy?” Aemma murmured. “Are you alright?”

“I need—” she knew she looked crazed, consumed by her need to draw. To make art. Lucerys swore she even bounced on her heels, and she would’ve started to even pace if it weren’t for Aemma coming to her, pulling her in her arms to pull her back. To center her.

“I need to draw,” she confessed. “I want to draw—I want to paint you so bad.”

Aemma chuckled. “I’m honored, sweet pearl. But you can wait until tomorrow. We have”—her hand slipped between her thighs, crooked her fingers inside her cunt—“something more important to do right now.”

Lucy whimpered when she slid her fingers inside her further, pressed her fingers on the spot that made her squirm.

“It can wait,” she heard Aemma murmur in her ear. “Come to bed.

Finally, after what seemed a long silence, Lucerys nodded, and a small shudder left her lips when Aemma pulled her fingers from her cunt and brought her arousal-coated fingers to her lips, tasting the sweetness on her tongue; her cunt throbbed at her aunt’s pleased moan at the taste of her, and Lucerys was led to her bed, and she crawled inside, underneath the covers, a soft sigh leaving her lips when Aemma’s body pressed against hers.

Then, her aunt’s hand crept between her legs again, and Lucerys sighed as her fingers slipped inside her. She looked into Aemma’s eye—one lilac and the other a gaping hole. But all she could see was the most beautiful woman she knew, and she wouldn’t trade anything for her.

Nothing at all.