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Of the Sea and Fire

Summary:

With the touch of his hand, the gaze of his amethyst eye, and the desire in his words...Lucerys Velaryon knows that we are meant to burn together.

Notes:

(See the end of the work for notes.)

Chapter 1

Notes:

(Rewriting)

Chapter Text

 

 

Being on a dragon's back made Lucerys Velaryon feel free.

 

Free from titles. Free from responsibilities.

 

It also made him feel more like an ordinary human. Dragons were magnificent creatures. Humans were so small and fragile compared to them. It made him feel humble to think about this.

 

Arrax soared up into the sky. Lucerys was tempted to yell ‘Dracarys’ but remembered that his mother wouldn’t like it if he dirty a sea-green embodied silver thread cloak that he just received as a gift for his name day.

 

Lucerys Velaryon turned four and ten. He did not feel like a grown-up but in Westeros being four and ten was considered to be a man, ready to fight war or take a wife. Sadly, his mother, Rhaenyra Targaryen, the heir to the iron throne still considered him a babe, along with his step-father, Daemon Targaryen, and his older brother Jacaerys Velaryon. He had also stayed the same height for a couple of years, mother promised he would grow more but Jacaerys joked that he would remain the same height forever.

 

Arrax circled Blackwater Bay, almost too far from the shore for Lucerys to reach Dragonstone. The sky was clear and the wind was kind, so he stayed a bit longer in the sky. Arrax seemed not pleased when Lucerys commanded him to go back to Dragonpit, his dragon hissed which sounded more like a sigh before flying back to the keep. 

 

The dragonkeepers were waiting for them when Lucerys and Arrax landed in the middle of the Dragonpit. He got off Arrax's back and laughed when his pearlescent dragon nudged his head with Lucerys, he could see his reflection in Arrax's golden eyes.

 

'You reek of dragon'

 

'Better than the mud smell of yours'

 

Jacaerys laughed out of satisfaction. Lucerys seemed to be getting better at snapping back now. He could tell Jacaerys had just returned from training thanks to the smell of mud. This was mesmerizing since Lucerys had lost count of the number of times he had fallen on his back.

 

'How is your training?'

 

“Daunting”

 

'I’m not amazed. Cole despises us. He won’t let any opportunity to knock us down slip away.'

 

'Well. Whatever makes men stronger'

 

'…I wish Ser Harwin was still here'

 

Both of them fell silent. Lucerys knows he shouldn’t say this but Ser Harwin was more patient towards them and gentler. Lucerys didn’t mind being knocked down for the sake of training. Cristen Cole, however, would not let them learn but kept swinging his sword at Jacaerys and Lucerys until they fell.

 

'It's training time. Go now.'

 

After a change of clothes, Lucerys grabbed his sword and headed out to the courtyard. He saw his life flash before his eyes when Cole swung a sword at him. As expected, but unknowingly, Cole struck the sword's pommel on his nose, knocking him to the ground.

 

Lucerys Velaryon always knew he would never master the arts of war; thus he put time and effort into the arts of literature, history, and ruling as he was the heir to Driftmark. He still admitted that the moment he lay flat on the ground made him feel vulnerable.

 

No one helped Lucerys up but he didn’t mind lying on his back for some time. The rain started falling.

 

The taste of metal on his tongue made him hope that this would not be the second time his nose broke. Lucerys finally got up when the rain began to pour. Rain fell like the gods' rage, making it harder to see the surroundings.

 

But amidst the rain, Lucerys saw a glimpse of a blue gleam.

 

Then it disappeared.

 

 

 

 

-

 

 

 

 

'Mother. Daemon'

 

'Lucerys'

 

Lucerys’ smile combined greetings and apology to his mother and stepfather. He was the last one to reach the supper table. He sat down next to Rhaena Targaryen who smiled warmly at him. On his left was Jacaerys who sacrificed himself to sit next to Aegon—their uncle who consistently stank of ale and scented oil, which they assumed the latter he got from whorehouses on the silk street. They dared not say yet everyone knew.

 

Lucerys smiled at his aunt, Helaena, who he thought of as bright as the sun but many thought she was a different Targaryen. Queen Alicent Hightower sat next to Ser Otto Hightower, the hand of the king. Lucerys tried to stay away from those two as much as possible. He was young but not a dimwit to know that the Hightowers would pursue any evidence to declare that he, Jacaerys, and Joffrey were bastards.

 

That everyone also knew but was afraid to say.

 

Lucerys knew his grandsire loved his mother more than anyone. He refused the obvious look of brown hair, brown eyes, and a pug nose—not a single drop of Targaryen. Even though Lucerys' grandsire was old and tired, the king loved him as his own child. The king remembered his name day, remembered his dragon’s name, remembered his lack of combat skills; the king truly cared for him.

 

A piercing stare pulled Lucerys out of the sea of thoughts.

 

Across the table, Aemond Targaryen stared at him. Lucerys looked away and pretended to be listening to Rhaena’s story of a letter exchange with Baela who lived with her grandmother, Rhaenys Targaryen, at Driftmark.

 

He still felt the stare but he was not afraid.

 

More like regret.

 

The scar lay across Aemond’s right temple down to almost his jaw—it was Lucerys who did it. He tried to convince himself that he did it to protect Jacaerys, but he knew deep down that it was just a lie to make him feel better.

 

The scream of young Aemond still rang in his ears. Pain, tears, blood—everything felt like it had just happened yesterday. Sometimes Lucerys woke up in the middle of the night from that scream in his nightmare.

 

His love of the sea made Lucerys feel like a true Velaryon. It gave him comfort that the Red Keep could not.

 

The nightmare kept Lucerys awake during his stay in King’s Landing. Mother and Daemon came to King’s Landing once in a while to visit the King, but Lucerys spent most of his boyhood in Dragonstone. Dragonstone appeared as a grim place to the people of King's Landing, but it was home to Lucerys. The magnificent Stone Drum, the Great Hall, and Aegon’s Garden—all felt more like home than the Red Keep. Redkeep was always a foreign place for him.

 

Lucerys wandered around Maegor's Holdfast, out to the Godswood, lingered a little longer in the library where he never felt less entertained to read some pages of Aegon the Conqueror's story and stopped in the throne room.

 

The Iron Throne looked dangerous, literally. The iron throne sat atop an unlikely platform—twisted, massive, and unpleasant. Mother said it was the most dangerous place in the world, and Lucerys knew she meant it both literally and metaphorically.

 

'Are you lost, boy?'

 

That voice.

 

He turned back to see a tall figure at the throne room’s entrance. Aemond’s long pale blonde hair glistered under the moonlight. His uncle always looked composed, stood solidly, and held those hands behind his back as if he were ready to grab a weapon as soon as a threat approached.

 

'Uncle'

 

Lucerys paused a little.

 

'I’m not lost, nor am I a boy'

 

'How wonderful'

 

Lucerys escaped his nightmare to face the real one.

 

'Running away from the fight?'

 

'No'

 

Aemond stood between Lucerys and the entrance, so Lucerys knew he couldn't easily get through, but hopefully without violence. He noticed Aemond’s hand on the grip of the dagger hanging at his waist. He knew what Aemond was after.

 

'I’m right here, uncle'

 

Aemond smiled slightly.

 

'If you wish to do what you have been thinking about for so long, then slay me down'

 

'A boy wishes for death'

 

'No. I wish for the nightmare to end'

 

Aemond seemed surprised by his statement.

 

'So you dreamed of me?'

 

'I fear. I dream of the deeds I’ve committed'

 

Lucerys did not back away when Aemond stepped forward—closer to him.

 

'Things I committed and wish to take back, wish they had not happened'

 

'Like what?'

 

'Your eye…your eye is one of them'

 

Lucerys knew it was Aemond’s triggering word because as soon as it slipped from his mouth, his body got pummeled down with sudden force. Lucerys fell on his back. Fortunately, his head didn’t hit the ice-cold floor of the throne room.

 

When Lucerys opened his eyes, he saw Aemond’s menacing expression and the dagger's blade so close to his face. His uncle's strong body pinned him down on the ground, leaving him helpless.

 

'Shall it be now then? That I will take my debt'

 

'If you wish, uncle'

 

Lucerys felt hot breath on his face.

 

Now.

 

Just for the nightmare to end.

 

Then he closed his eyes. Aemond only needed one of them. It would be quick. He wouldn’t feel pain for a long time since Aemond was a skilled swordsman.

 

The sudden grip on his jaw made Lucerys open his eyes in confusion to see Aemond's face closer to his own. Aemond leaned even closer—perhaps to mock Lucerys' cowardice and helplessness by seeing the fear in his eyes.

 

'Aemond?'

 

Uncle’s name slipped from his mouth. The grip on his jaw made his lips part slightly. Still, with confusion—a slight cold brush of the dagger's blade on his lips sent him into a state of confusion. He lifted his hand and pushed Aemond's chest.

 

Lucerys felt a rapid pulse in his palms instead.

 

Aemond still looked at him.

 

'Uncle? What do you…'

 

'Bastard'

 

Then Aemond got up and left him.

 

The throne room door closed loudly, and Lucerys could not process what had just happened.

 

In his palm, he still felt that heartbeat.

 

He woke up the next morning to the sound of the city bell. Lucerys rubbed his face, still half awake when mother pushed the door into his chamber.

 

Something was wrong.

 

Mother's face was pale and her violet eyes looked vulnerable as she shed a tear. She smiled before hugging Lucerys tightly.

 

'Mother? Is something wrong?'

 

'Your grandsire has passed'

 

His body froze as if he had fallen into the cold sea during winter.

 

'Mother…'

 

'We are going outside the gate. Prepare yourself.'

 

If he was to be the Lord of the Tides, that meant everyone would die. Lucerys recalled what he said to Lord Corlys Velaryon, his grandfather. He didn’t want to lose anyone, anyone in his family. The atmosphere was gloomy and melancholic. Lucerys held his tears in while mother, Queen Alicent, and Helaena could not.

 

Syrax awaited on the hill. The dragon knew that mother needed some time to see the king one last time. Lucerys held Joffrey’s small hand and smiled to console him even though he was certain Joffrey was too young to understand grief.

 

'Dracarys'

 

Fire and blood.

 

The Targaryen were made of blood, died in fire, and flew into the sky in ashes as if they were on a dragon's back. Like now—Lucerys' grandsire soared high in the sky, riding Balerion. He looked up at the black smoke and ashes that were carried up by the wind.

 

Lucerys hoped his grandsire would have a pleasant passage.

 

Dragons have a special bond with their riders, a bond that cannot be explained in words. Arrax whined a bit when Lucerys stepped into the Dragonpit. The creature seemed to sense what he felt. Arrax pushed him with its nose and nibbled his hair, giving him comfort.

 

That made Lucerys laugh.

 

'Avy jorrāelan, Arrax'

 

'How depressing. Having only a dragon to say that to'

 

Hearing that voice, the hair behind his neck stood up. Lucerys grabbed the rein tightly as Arrax hissed at the newcomer. Aemond was in flying gear as well, but Vhagar was not in the Dragonpit. She's too large.

 

'He is not just a dragon to me, he is my friend'

 

Arrax seemed pleased with his statement. He bent down like hugging Lucerys.

 

'Uncle'

 

Lucerys turned back to find that Aemond was still looking at him. He didn't know what that look in his eyes meant.

 

'What?'

 

'Are you going back to Oldtown?'

 

'Why the fuck would I go back there?'

 

'I heard…some lords said that the queen might go back to reside in Oldtown after mother becomes a queen'

 

'That sounds like good news for you'

 

'No'

 

'Hmm?'

 

'I wouldn’t like that… because we’re family'

 

As Lucerys looked away from Aemond, Arrax still watched every move he made.

 

'Mother says we are stronger together. She would never want Queen Alicent to leave the capital. Well—Aegon might be a drunkard but he is genuinely pleasant. He used to take it easy on me when we were kids. Helaena, oh Helaena is one of my favorite people in the Seven Kingdoms. She always tells tales and stories to me and gives me sweet plums. She also gave me embroidery for my name day. And Queen Alicent…I know she never was especially fond of me but she is kind, she loved grandsire as well'

 

'What of me then?'

 

'What of you?'

 

'You wish me to stay. It means that I’m a part of your little life'

 

'We hardly talk…I never dare to speak to you'

 

'That I knew'

 

'But I regard you as my family, always'

 

Aemond laughed hysterically.

 

'Being kind will get you killed someday, boy'

 

'Mother likes that I’m kind. Lord Corlys said that to be a good leader, a man must be good-hearted. Being kind makes people feel comfortable around me…which makes me happy'

 

'How depressing'

 

Dragonkeepers took Arrax down the Dragonpit after Lucerys decided that he was not in the right state of mind to ride. Aemond still stood in his way.

 

'What do you want?'

 

'Why? My sweet nephew wants me to stay, so here I am'

 

Lucerys didn’t mean right now.

 

'Uncle'

 

'What?'

 

'Why—did you do that last night?'

 

'That?'

 

'You leaned into me as if…'

 

The words escaped his mouth.

 

'What are you intending to imply?'

 

'Doesn’t matter'

 

Aemond seemed irritated and demanded an answer. The strong hand grabbed his jaw. The force felt like Aemond was trying to strangle him.

 

'Speak now'

 

'I—'

 

'It appears that your mother taught you to be kind but not brave'

 

'I…thought you despise me. Disgusted of my presence and existence after…'

 

'After what you did?'

 

Lucerys had cold sweat on his forehead, but he was certain that Aemond wouldn't let him go if he didn't say anything.

 

'I’m sorry, uncle. I’m sorry for what I did. I’m sorry for making fun of you when we were young, I’m sorry about the pink dread. I…'

 

'Shut up'

 

It became harder to breathe once Aemond gripped harder.

 

'Uncle…I…'

 

'Don’t presume things with your stupid little head'

 

Then he let go.

 

'I don’t despise you'