Chapter Text
"Somebody send me a fucking maester!" Aemond Targaryen demands, entering Lord Baratheon's halls carrying his nephew in his arms.
It was only mere moments ago that he demanded one of Lucerys' eye be taken out in these very halls, hence the confusion that met him when he comes back calling for a maester for said nephew.
After seconds of people becoming statues at the sight of them, he hears Lord Borros exclaiming. "Gods be good." Whether irritably or incredulously, Aemond does not know, and he does not care until Lucerys is properly tended to.
For a beat, nobody moves. "Well? Somebody go fucking get a maester! I will not have a prince die under the roof of my House." They watch as people scurry, and as a number of maesters start pouring in.
One tried to pry Lucerys away from his arms, but he insisted to be the one who carry him into a guest chamber where they could take a proper look at him. Albeit shivering and wet, he proceeded to carry him, running as fast as he could, refusing any help that was offered.
He will keep this until the moment he's reduced to ashes by dragonflames, but he knew in this instant that he was afraid of losing him. He could tell by his heart that pounded loudly against his chest, and how his knees almost buckle every time his feet made contact with the ground.
It infuriated him. It shouldn't be like this. He should be happy. Seeing Lucerys fall from the sky should have brought him joy. Peace. His nephew finally got what he deserved. But some part of him knew - A small part of him that was the boy who would laugh with little Luke, the boy inside of him that he did not.
Aemond carefully lays Lucerys on the soft bed placed in the middle of the room, being extremely careful with the younger's head that was already bleeding. He didn't know whether it was due to his fall or the lightning, but he didn't waste any more time making way for the maesters to examine him.
He watched as they fussed over him, and as one of them approach him. "My prince, it is apparent that the Prince Lucerys has taken a fall, but we have noticed some oddities. May I ask what has happened to him?"
He gulped. "He- The Prince Lucerys was on dragonback when a lightning struck him, he then fell from his saddle, and I.. I caught him with Vhagar." Aemond tried to sound composed and as unfazed as possible, but he knew that it was of no use with his callous demeanor gone.
The maester falters. "C-Come again? My prince, you say that Prince Lucerys was hit by a lightning?"
"Yes. That is exactly what I said, have your ears become useless?" The maester takes a shaky breath, but not out of fear of him. "No, my prince. If you'll excuse me." He bowed his head, whispering the information to others.
Everything became a blur of a dozen maesters tending to his nephew, yet he remains there unmoving. He refused to leave the room, and leave Lucerys out of his sight.
Aemond hears a familiar screech outside, and a pair of dragon wings flapping closely. Arrax. The dragon did not land. He did not stop by for his rider. Instead, the pearlescent dragon flies past and away. On his way to Dragonstone, Aemond assumes. Only then did he realize the gravity of what had happened. What he'd done. He starts to steel himself, preparing for the wrath and fire of Lucerys' mother, his half-sister, Rhaenyra Targaryen.
Exhaustion had settled in his bones, and he could feel his own joints aching. Still, he did not budge. His own mind was still a muddle of confusion, anger, and shock.
He only moved when he thought he saw a movement from Lucerys. The collective gasps from the maesters confirmed that it was not just a product of Aemond's fatigued mind. Could it be that he was waking up?
But the murmurs and fussing only increased, leaving him unable to see what was happening. Lucerys was stirring awake.
Aemond was about to push his way through, but a maester pulls him away. A growl escapes his throat as he retracts his hand. "Out of my fucking way!"
"M-My prince, it is best if you leave this to us. Prince Lucerys is currently going through a convulsion, but do not fret, from the records of people who suffered the same fate as him, it is only normal. In fact, some of the texts I've read regarded this as something that could be positive."
It took all of his self-control not to wrap his hands around the man's neck. "Positive how?" He sneers.
The man takes a step back from him. "His body is reacting to what happened to it. Since the mind controls the body, it is said that it could be its way of releasing the stress and shock."
He clenches his jaw. "Would he be alright?"
It was this question the paled the maester. "We s-simply cannot tell, my prince."
"What do you mean you cannot tell? isn't that your fucking job!?"Aemond steps forward, evidently fuming, sending the man staggering back.
"There is no telling on what could happen to the prince, is what I mean, Prince Aemond. Cases like these are rare. Some of the people who were struck by lightning, simply ended up dead. It is a miracle that Prince Lucerys is even alive, considering the fact that he was struck in the sky. People who survived...They were never the same after."
If Aemond was not frustrated then, he surely is now. "Quit speaking in riddles, and cut to the chase!"
The maester sends him a wary look before speaking, "The prince may be blind or deaf when he wakes up. There is also a chance for him to be paralyzed..." He hesitates continuing for a second, but the look Aemond gives him pushes him to continue. "O-Or he might suffer all of it, which I pray is not the case, Gods be good... We don't know which yet. I do hope that there would be none, but it is highly unlikely. I apologize for this, my prince. It pains me to say that aching muscles and sporadic chest pains would also be a part of the prince's everyday life now."
He kept his head bowed down, which was good, Aemond thinks. Because if he hadn't, he might not be able to keep himself from striking his face.
There is a voice inside of Aemond. It was a little boy weeping. Weeping for someone he held very dear. Weeping for someone he cherished. The little boy was familiar to Aemond, because that little boy inside was him.
The air inside the chamber starts to suffocate him, so he left.
In fact, he leaves entirely, not wanting anybody to see him.
He reaches the edges of the castle, where nobody was around. Where there were no eyes watching. There he lets out a scream. An agonizing wail, less like a human and more like a dragon.
Aemond would have thrown anything he could get his hands on if he was inside. It was better here, no eyes of judgement. Just him and his unbridled rage.
Yes, a part of him that was still bitter. Bitter for the eye he lost. Angry that it had been taken away without any consequences for Lucerys to face.
He wanted him to feel - to know that there was still a debt to pay, but he did not mean for any of this to happen.
You see, Aemond had only meant to scare his nephew. That was all.
Had he known that this would happen, he wouldn't have gone after Lucerys at all. With his mind clouded with the thought of vengeance for his eye, he could not think the situation through. It was a foolish and impulsive move.
A decision that almost made him a kinslayer if he didn't catch his nephew on time after he was struck by lightning.
"No, Arrax! Serve me!" He barely hears his nephew cry out before the small dragon attacks Vhagar with his dragonfire. Aemond could feel it agitate his dragon as he struggles for control.
He fought to keep Vhagar calm and controlled, "No, no, no, no!" Having to swallow the panic that rose from his chest, lest he wanted Vhagar misbehaving even more when she's already thrashing from his hold. "No, Vhagar. No!" He repeats over and over again. "Daor! Serve me, Vhagar. Dohaeras!"
Aemond catches a glimpse of Lucerys flying upwards before he could tame his dragon. The boy was frantic, unable to notice the lightning poised to strike in his direction. "Lucerys!" His throat manages to call out before the blurred image of his nephew falling from his dragonback unfolds in front of him.
His body seemed to be frozen by the cold and heavy storm that wet every single inch of his being, until he forcibly snapped himself out of it. It took a while for his limbs to work again, but he manages to shout a command, "Vhagar, Dive!"
Lucerys was falling and so was the realization that dawned on him. This has been a very bad idea. For a while, he'd forgotten that Vhagar was a war dragon. A war dragon a few times bigger and heavier than Arrax, not to mention that she was more mature and very much experienced. Sending her after his nephew is a command for cold-blooded murder.
It was foolish and dense of him to overlook this obviously crucial information, but Aemond knew that there was no going back now. All he can do is hope to catch his nephew, and hope to catch him alive.
He grunts as he positioned Vhagar to scoop up the free-falling prince with her wings. Aemond almost winced at the impact, knowing that the boy likely has a few broken bones or at least dislocated joints on top of the injuries he acquired from the lightning hit.
Releasing a breath, his shoulders slumped in relief. He commands Vhagar to stay steady while his shaking arms reached for Lucerys.
He almost cried out finding a pulse on his nephew, but his lips were blue and his breathing wasn't right which meant that he had to go get a fucking maester as soon as possible.
It was right at this moment where he thanked the Old Gods and the New Gods for his build that made it easy for him to hoist Lucerys and place him in the saddle, secured with him.
"Fly, Vhagar!" He orders the old dragon. The very same one that almost killed the little boy in his arms. He flew as fast as he could and all the way to Storm's End, it was his own voice that tormented him.
What have I done?