Chapter Text
"Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."
The voice of Alicent Hightower demanding one of his eyes to be taken out was ever present in Luke's mind. It sits there taunting him, reminding him, never allowing him to forget what he had done.
"There is a debt to be paid."
He tried. Over and over again, he did.
He'd apologize, sent gifts; Lucerys never grew tired, even when his uncle rejects him every single time, never hearing out what he had to say.
Countless doors were shut on his face. Taunts thrown at his way. Threats made to his name. None of what he did was ever enough.
"I should apologize, mother. It's the least I can do." He tells his mother while she was getting her arm stitched. He has mutilated his uncle, and had done the same to his mother, all in the same day.
The guilt he felt sweeps him over like a great wave approaching the shore.
His mother cupped his face with her good hand, and her thumb brushed his cheeks. She smiled at him as if she was not wounded as a result of his actions. "Of course. Perhaps you can explain your side to your uncle."
"Would it make him feel better?"
Rhaenyra shook her head. "I do not know, darling. But it is the good thing to do."
He looked at her eyes, tears ready to spill. "I don't want him to hate me."
She pulled him closer, embracing him. She placed gentle kisses on the top of his head, "Oh, sweet boy."
"I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."
This will be the first time he hears that voice inside of his head, not knowing that it will be his acquaintance for a long, long time.
That same night, he knocked at the door of Aemond's chambers. He heard that he refused to leave all day. Lucerys stood there, and he waited anxiously. He wanted to apologize to his uncle before they take their leave on the morrow.
He knocked for a second time, tears already pricking his eyes. He hated how tears came to him quickly, it has become the subject of Jacaerys and Aegon's teasing lately. He laments their friendship that was surely stained after what happened.
Lucerys waited, but to no avail, no voice would answer him. So he decided to enter, even without permission.
His uncle sat there, back facing him. He did not turn around. "I did not allow you to come in."
"Uncle." He called
Finally, Aemond looked at him. His eyelid all stitched and swollen. It was still red, but it looked somewhat better. He was welcomed with bitterness; instead of the reluctant, yet warm smile Aemond always gave him. Used to give him.
"And what brings you here?" He sneered, looking at him with clear disdain on his remaining eye.
That was all it took for him to know. His uncle loathed him now. "I-"
Before Lucerys could even say what he came here for, his uncle shuts him down. "What? Have you come to take my other eye too? You bastard." Bastard.
But he promised. He promised...
Lucerys slumps down at the chair beside Aemond, creating noise in the otherwise quiet library. "What's gotten you sniffling and snotty again, dear nephew?" He asks without moving his sight away from the book he's reading.
"I overheard the maids talking again."
Aemond slings one of his arms around him, pulling him close. He still didn't look at Lucerys.
The younger buried his cheek into Aemond's chest, attempting to read the book that his uncle held in front of him.
"Do you think that I'm not my father's son?" He blurts the question out before he could even stop himself.
Aemond held him closer. "Never. Ser Laenor himself has said it countless of times already, did he not? You are his son, and he is your father."
"You promise?"
Aemond chuckles. "Yes, I promise."
Lucerys nods, relief finally washing over him. "I'm sorry, uncle."
"Whatever for?" Aemond looks at him with intrigue.
"For laughing. Earlier, when Jace and Aegon presented the 'pink dread' to you. I found it funny, then. But I see now, it was very cruel."
Aemond ran his fingers through his curls, "I would have found it funny, too. I think. If the jest was not aimed at me. But I am frustrated." He admits. "You are younger than me, yet it is I who still remain dragonless."
"Don't worry, uncle. I've heard of other Targaryens claiming their dragons even at an age even older than you are right now. I'm sure you will claim yours one day." Lucerys offered him a smile.
He could see a soft smile beginning to paint Aemond's lips. "Yes, that is what everyone keeps telling me. I wish it would be sooner though."
"I wish too. That way, we can both ride on dragonback and play in the skies. Just imagine it, uncle." He giggles. "Us chasing each other even in the midst of a storm."
Lucerys' laugh might be infectious, and Aemond was certainly infected. "But it'll be dangerous, and we'll be all wet."
"Yes, but it would be fun. Don't you think so?"
Aemond's gaze lingers on him a little longer, a look of fondness in his eyes. "Yeah... I think it would be too."
The tears he was holding back now free falls, cascading on his soft baby cheeks as he shook his head. "No. I want to apologize, uncle. I didn't mean to-"
"But you've already taken my eye out. Nothing you say will ever make it grow back."
Lucerys gulps. "I know, but I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. I truly am."
Aemond didn't spare another glance at him. "Out."
He hesitated, sniffling. He was about to speak again when his uncle yelled at him. "Out, now! Go snivel in your mother's skirts."
Lucerys scurries away, wiping the endless tears that came falling from his eyes. He sobbed all the way to his mother's chambers, hoping she could take away the heaviness that sat upon his chest. He thinks about the promises and plans they've made, and how little the possibility of them happening is now. Aemond has claimed his dragon, and not just any dragon. He claimed Vhagar. The queen of all dragons. He was happy for him, but all of his hopes to fly with Aemond quickly diminishes, escaping through his fingertips like grains of sand.
Unbeknownst to him, it would take years for him to free himself of the heavy burden that came to him that day.
"That is insufficient."
Lucerys tried making amends again the next time he visited King's Landing. A lot has happened since.
Shortly after his father, Laenor, has passed, his mother marries again. They have moved from Driftmark to Dragonstone. Uncle Daemon was kind to Jace and him, he tried his best to make them happy. He trained them, cherished them like they were his own.
Yet Lucerys still couldn't take his mind off of Aemond. He still wanted to apologize. The weight on his chest did nothing but get heavier and heavier everyday, sometimes he feared it would crush him.
It has been a fairly long time since the incident, and he hoped that his uncle would have a clear mind once he faced him. He hoped that he would hear him out this time. It had been foolish for him to hope. A naive child he was.
He holds a necklace that he had crafted for him. Jacaerys helped him collect small seashells before they departed from Driftmark, and his mother assisted him in stringing them into a necklace. For a final touch, Lucerys places a sapphire stone in the middle. He thinks it would suit him.
He would go on to cry about it later when Aemond destroys the necklace in front of him.
No amount of tears could take away the weight, it didn't matter how much he clawed for it every night when his dreams come to terrorize him again. Lucerys realizes that it might never be lifted at all. He was stuck with his regret, and he cannot help but think that he deserved it, no matter how much everybody says that he didn't.
"Good will cannot make him whole."
Over the years, Lucerys would come to understand one thing. Nothing he does or gives will ever suffice for the eye he's taken. Nothing, but one of his own.
"You can always write to him." It was Jacaerys who suggested it, despite his disfavor towards Aemond.
Lucerys was adamant to pay his debt, and Jace would always support his brother no matter what. It stays that way even after what happens.
"How do I know that he reads it?"
Jace shrugs, "We do not know for sure. But it's worth trying, brother. At least, you can explain yourself without interruptions."
The idea grew more and more appealing to him, and eventually, he did it.
He sent Aemond letters after letters, expressing his regret. He tells him how much he is sorry for that night. He did so over and over again until Lucerys lost count of all the letters he'd sent.
In it, he asks his uncle how he has been; how his day went; and he tells him all about his own day. He tells him how much he misses their friendship so.
Sometimes, he sends Aemond gifts during his namedays. He tells him his wishes for him, which will always only be the best.
There were also times when Lucerys would write to him, weeping. He would let his hand write the contents of his mind, pouring his heart out into a piece of paper that he knows Aemond will never read. Lucerys would beg for his uncle to help him stop the pain - for he knew the truth that only he could truly take it away. Only Aemond could banish the cold, hungry monster that sat atop his chest, slowly gnawing on his insides - on his very being.
He never once got a response, but he kept writing. With every raven that he sent, a part of him goes too, chipping away, drifting aimless with the winds.
Lucerys knows that one day, none will be left of him.
He thinks it's for the best. Maybe then, he'll be able to repay his debt.
He would not.
Lucerys would lie awake at night more often. Avoiding the nightmares that would chase him the moment he closed his eyes.
After a few years of this arrangement, Lucerys could not find it in him to have an appetite, he would eat less and less with each day that passes; preferring the confines of his own room more than anyone else's company. Even Jacaerys.
Jacaerys, who harbored a deep hatred for their uncle Aemond. He had already disliked him the moment he threatened to bash his head with stone, but he would grow to hate him more and more as he watched his brother self-destruct because of him - for him.
It wasn't long before everyone worried for Lucerys.
Especially his mother, his perfect mother. She would mutter soft assurances to him, reading him tales of their heritage. She would make him smile. Something that he rarely does nowadays.
"There we go. Just breathe, Luke." She whispers to Lucerys after pulling him out of his nightmare, embracing him.
Every time they plague him is when his chest is the heaviest. It is when the monster is most vicious. Every night, he would struggle to find his breath, and it was getting harder and harder to do so. He could do nothing, but curl up in Rhaenyra's arms and cry.
Helpless. How can you be Lord of the Tides someday? A simple debt you cannot repay. Still cowardly hiding behind your mother.
A new voice joins Alicent's in his head. A new tormentor acquaintance for him.
Lucerys Velaryon had become more of a recluse. Servants grew scared of him. They reported to have been hearing the prince talk all to his own.
They believed he was haunted... cursed, and Lucerys thinks that maybe he is. Haunted by the past he could not let go of, cursed with a burden so heavy he forgets how to breathe.
Even his mother could no longer recognize him, for she knew the boy better than he knew himself. And she's known that something was wrong. Her only regret is not acting upon it sooner.
The outgoing boy full of smiles and laughter was nothing but a distant memory for her.
She vaguely recalls him mentioning something about a monster, and how it had already started to devour him. "It's eating me alive, mother. I'm scared." Rhaenyra's first thought is that it was due to her son's delirious state, having only been pulled out of yet another night terror.
Maybe he was right. Maybe a monster really preyed on her son. Eating him slowly, but surely. Painfully so.
She'd seen him scream and writhe in pain, she'd witnessed him begging for mercy in his sleep.
The monster had taken his son, and replaced him with nothing but a shell of a boy. Her sweet boy.
"Mother." His voice broke as he called for her desperately.
Rhaenyra ran up to him. Tears poured down his face like raindrops in a storm. "I don't know what happened. I didn't mean to. Please, mother. You must believe me."
She choked out a sob of her own. "Oh, Lucerys."
It broke her. It would break any mother's heart, to see their son in such a state.
His hair was disheveled, clothing ripped up in some places. His hands and knuckles were bloodied. His chamber was a mess: Tapestries ripped up, pillows slashed open, and ornaments shattered.
The most noticeable thing was his desk. It was cluttered catastrophically: crumpled paper littered all over, and ink splashed everywhere.
Ink was smudged on his fingers, his face, and his hair. Some were even smeared in the walls, smothered hastily and inconsistently.
He doesn't wince when his mother takes them into the palms of her own.
In fact, he didn't show any emotion after that night. He failed to recount any of the event that happened when questioned the day after. No one ever found out what truly took place in the prince's chamber.
Rumors were inevitable, and the one most whispered around was about a beast, a monster, an entity... the word was lost on the lips of many, but they believed that it had been lurching, observing the prince for a long time; and that night, it found the perfect time to strike. Some believed he was attacked and it had changed him, some believed that he was taken and replaced.
But one thing remained true: Lucerys Velaryon was a ghost of what he was before.
As for Rhaenyra, it would be the last time she would see her son's eyes so alive and expressive in a very long time. For many moons, her only wish is that she looked into it longer that night.
Lucerys would commit himself to training, slowly working his way into being a great fighter. Daemon and Jacaerys would shower him with praises, and he would revel in it.
"And you've bested me once again." Jace smiled as he took Luke's hand, standing up. He ruffled his little brother's hair, and Luke's chest would flicker with satisfaction and happiness. He wanted to smile, at least. Let his brother know that he enjoyed his presence. But none would come, with his body failing him.
Some kind of Lord you will be. You can't even show your brother gratitude.
Lucerys was trapped in his own skin.
Whereas before, his large doe eyes expressed every emotion and reaction he had, it now held nothing. Lucerys smiles occasionally, still. But he's heard of whispers. He's heard that his smile never really reaches his eyes anymore. That it was daunting to look at.
It frustrated him. More so, it scared Lucerys. Every passing day, he would look at a mirror, scarcely recognizing the boy that stood in front of him. Gone was the boy that his mother calls sweet, gone was the child that easily weeps.
And how he wants to. So, so badly. Sniveling and sobbing was better than this. It was better than his body betraying him. Shoving every little feeling in his chest, for the growing monster to feed upon.
He knows that someday, that monster will grow. That monster will break loose. It will rip him open, and it would stand in his place. Lucerys can already feel it doing so.
He turned every ounce of what he could into rage, after finding out that it was the only emotion that his body allowed him to display. He had almost ripped his hair out in frustration trying to reduce himself into tears. It did not work.
Instead, Lucerys felt exasperated. He was furious, the only thing he seemed to feel these days aside from fear. It would only occur to him that he was still tugging on his own hair when Jacaerys uncurls his fist softly with his own hands. "Stop it, Luke! You're hurting yourself."
Jacaerys looks into his eyes, but he would see no fear, no disgust, unlike the other people that would look into it. Lucerys would only ever see concern in Jace's eyes. "What's gotten you all worked up?"
"I- I don't know." His voice cracked. He just wanted to drown in his own tears. He just wanted to feel something besides the trepidation and the boiling fury that always looms over him. The emptiness grows larger and larger, and fear then became his constant friend.
His mind would beg for help, it would scream, and it would crack little by little. It was what turned him to training in the first place. Though, Lucerys would not ask for help.
Everyone has their own responsibilities, most of them even bigger than yours, yet they do it with little to no help at all. Go and ask for help, Lucerys. Show them how weak you really are. Show them how much you truly did not deserve.
You might ride a dragon, but you might also be a bastard after all. A fool wearing a dragon's skin.
Lucerys could not ask anybody for help.
Everything would change for him. Everything except his family.
His mother still calls him her sweet boy.
Daemon would ruffle his hair when he's proud of his progress.
Jacaerys still holds him close.
Joffrey is still far too young to understand what is happening around him.
Nothing has changed within Dragonstone's walls. Nothing but Lucerys Velaryon.
True dragons, they are. How about you, Lucerys?
They would come to King's Landing again for the celebration of Aegon and Helaena's wedding. It was too loud and bright, and that day is still a blur to him even now.
Lucerys could make out very little of what happened at the function, and a lot of it was mostly Aemond goading at him. Provoking him little by little.
Above all, he remembered Aemond presenting a toast. An excuse to further antagonize them, calling he and his brothers "Handsome, wise, and Strong." A compliment to other people's ears, but they knew what he truly meant by that, and the glint of mischief in his uncle's eye tells him he's right.
Jace was about to retaliate when he stops him. And of course, his brother, ever so soft-hearted for him, keeps quiet.
He would remember locking himself within his chambers, and none after that.
Next he knows is that he was awake, and that his mother was beside him. Daemon was asleep in a large seat specially placed in front of him, likely with the intent to watch over them.
"You're awake." His mother smiled.
Yes, awake and confused. "Mother? What happened?" Had he gotten drunk? He only downed a goblet or two of wine, he cannot be.
He reached out for his eyes, wanting to rub it, but a bandaged hand comes in to view. It was his hand. In fact, both of his hands were bandaged. "What?"
His mother doesn't answer his question. "Do you truly not remember?"
He shakes his head. He sees how his mother suppressed her own tears, he expected to feel a shock of pain in his chest, and he expected it to bring him to tears, but it doesn't. Nothing seems to anymore.
Lucerys thinks that he should be happy. It was one of the things he did not like about himself. He did not like how easy it was to sway him to tears. But he realizes now that it was better than this.
That is what you are good at, Lucerys. Realizing things a little too late.
She caressed his face, "Oh, Luke."
Sorrow was evident in her eyes. Dejection, and he was the cause.
Oh, little Luke. Always the catalyst of everything awful that happens in the family.
The voice was starting to irk him, but his mother holding him closer stopped him from doing something about it. His mother embraced him, and he felt nothing. He doesn't feel the giddiness like he used to. It sends a chill down his spine.
Pieces of him were chipping away, and he's here to see everything crumble. He's here to witness himself fall apart, and there's nothing he can do about it.
There is something, really. You can always go and tell your mother... But would you risk showing her how weak you really are?
The voice mocked him.
"I'm not weak." He responds, verbally.
Rhaenyra didn't seem to be bothered, instead she replies, agreeing: "No, my sweet. You are not."
"Mother." He called, contemplating whether he should tell her all about it.
He gasps for air. "Shh, sweetheart. Don't do it, your hands will bleed again." She was holding both of his hands, stopping them from making contact with his head. It had become a bad habit for him, and he doesn't like how it brought pain in everybody's eyes whenever he does it. Even Daemon's.
He envied it. He wanted that. He wanted the pain. He never meant for them to feel it. It was meant for him, so why?
Why?
Luke feels his eyelids getting heavier and heavier, the last thing he heard were his mother's sniffles, and her words. "I wish you would stop hurting yourself."
He feels her kissing his temple, and her cheeks were wet. She was crying, "My sweet boy..." He wanted so badly to open his eyes, and stop his mother's tears, but alas, darkness swallows him whole.