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Summary
Aemond fights. Aemond loses. Dragged before his half-sister he has a choice: death or servitude. He will never bow to her, no matter the consequences.
He doesn't expect Lucerys Velaryon to try and change his mind. But then, he never expects Luke.
*
“No cunt in the world is worth changing your allegiances for. So if that is your ploy, I have to disappoint you.”
Luke smiles. “I thought you would say that. So I have not come alone, Uncle.”
His hands rise and cup around the loose fabric of his tunic, of his robe. Only it is not that, Aemond suddenly realises, as Luke parts the fabric. His belly is thick and swollen, curved outward, dark lines going down from the navel.
“Will you not have us? Or them, at the least?”