The grief that hung over the funeral party like a shroud had only deepened Lucera’s already sour mood, leaving her unable to truly enjoy the brief respite from Dragonstone.
The island offered much in the way of adventure, with its winding caves and hidden coves, its bustling dock town below the castle fortress.
But no matter how many times she explored those secrets, how many markets she scoured for interesting trinkets, her adventuring had lost its appeal.
Because she was missing someone to share them with.
Someone whose absence made every discovery feel hollow and every victory empty.
Why has he not answered my letters?
She had written four of them since arriving on Driftmark, four carefully composed messages filled with descriptions of her explorations and questions about his life at court.
And all four had yet to receive a reply.
At first, she had reasoned that it would take time for a raven to fly from the island to King’s Landing and back.
But as the days passed one after another, she slowly came to terms with the possibility that she would not get a response at all.
The solitude weighed heavily on her, pressing down on her shoulders like a physical burden.
She tried to seek comfort in playing with her brother, hoping that his presence might fill the void left by Aemond’s silence.
Contrary to her own restlessness, Jace seemed quite content on the island citadel.
His temper had mellowed out considerably, and he spent his days wandering about the training yard, practicing his swordplay with a dedication that surprised her.
At first he had not been eager to let her join him, the hurt of her callous words still too fresh in his mind.
But slowly, cautiously, they had begun to repair the damage between them.
Then the raven came from Harrenhal, and everything changed.
Ser Harwin was gone, and with him any hope for a safe future.
It was one thing to have people whisper vile things about them in the corridors of the Red Keep.
It was quite another for those whispers to summon the Stranger himself.
People had said it was just an accident, a terrible tragedy that could have happened to anyone.
But her brother was convinced that foul play had taken away their sworn shield.
“It was Ser Criston,” he had told her one evening.
They had sat huddled in the common room by the heartfire, listening to the violent storm lashing the rocks outside.
The flames had cast dancing shadows across his face, making him look older than his years.
“I know it was him.”
“Do not be silly, Jace.
Ser Criston is a knight of the Kingsguard.
He would never dare slay a man like that.”
The flash of thunder coming through the windows made shadows dance across her twin’s face, contorting his features into something almost unrecognizable.
“He hated Ser Harwin.
He hated me too.
He will come for me next, you will see.”
Flustered by his certainty, Luce moved to seize his hand in hers.
The heaviness in his voice made fear blossom in her chest, spreading through her veins like poison.
If the opinions of others could bring death into their lives, how was she supposed to ignore them?
What did it matter if she had her loved ones around her when one cruel word could take them away?
The thoughts worsened when they were told of Laena Velaryon’s death.
Like Harwin, Lucera had not known her aunt well, but her passing had left a most bitter taste in her mouth.
She had informed her grandsire the Sea Snake of that when he had tried to tell her of her inheritance, the weight of his words pressing down on her young shoulders.
“Both my seat and High Tide will be yours one day, Lucera,” he had announced, his voice stern and solemn.
Her grandsire had always cut the image of a most fearsome man, with his weathered face and piercing eyes.
But hovering over her like that in his mourning blacks, Luce thought no foe could stand against him.
“Your brother will be king, of course.
He will sit on endless councils and ceremonies.
But the Lord of the Tides rules the sea.
Or in your case, Lady.”
Lucera fiddled with the wooden seahorse toy he had given her, turning it over and over in her small hands.
“I am sorry, but I do not want it.”
The look on his face was despondent, the disappointment clear in every line of his weathered features.
He quickly knelt beside her, his long arms seizing her shoulders with a fierce grip.
“It is your birthright, lass,” he proclaimed fiercely, as if he could will truth into those words with enough force.
“It is not.
I am a girl.”
Her grandsire’s thick lips curled into a smile, though the expression did not reach his eyes.
“And you think that matters?
Your grandmother would be the first to argue it does not.”
“Yes, but if I inherit Driftmark, that means everyone is dead.” She shook her head, the thought too terrible to contemplate.
“I do not want anyone to be dead.
Not over some stupid inheritance.”
Lord Corlys tried to assure her that he meant to live a long and healthy life before passing down the seat to her.
But he did not understand that she was not even thinking about Driftmark anymore.
The weight of all that death, all that loss, pressed down on her until she could barely breathe.
Dejected, she moved to find Jace so they could head back to their apartments to rest.
She found him with Aemond.
From the moment she had first seen him during the burial ceremony, every ounce of her had yearned to speak to him.
She wanted to know why he had not written back, if he knew anything about Ser Harwin’s death.
But most importantly, she wanted to hold him, to have him tell her that things would be alright, that this terrible conflict would not break them apart.
Because they were family.
That was what mattered most, wasn’t it?
Yet in spite of everything, she resisted.
Jace needed her more, and she could not bear to anger him by running off to Aemond the first chance she got.
She waited until he had settled in their apartments before she ventured out, on the pretext of finding their mother.
Descending the castle steps, she peered over the balcony railing.
Below, she saw a head of silver curls sprawled on the stone.
Aegon was snoring loudly, a cup of wine discarded at his side, his face slack with the stupor of drink.
Just as she had thought, Aemond was nearby, standing watch over his brother, his eyes alert for incoming danger.
As if he could sense her presence, his head snapped up right to where she stood crouched.
With a quick look at his sleeping brother, he dashed up the stairs to meet her in the servants’ passage.
They did not exchange greetings.
Instead, they moved to embrace immediately, squeezing each other so hard that Luce thought she would collapse from the force of it.
His arms wrapped around her like iron bands, and she buried her face in his chest, breathing in the familiar scent of him.
“I am sorry.
I meant to come speak with you sooner, but…”
“Why did you not write to me?” he demanded, a frown creasing his brows.
“You promised you would.”
Luce blinked, confusion washing over her.
“I did.
I sent four letters this past month.
I never received a reply.”
The frown deepened.
“I never got anything.
Are you sure your Maester sent them out?”
“Yes, I watched him release the birds myself.”
Strained silence followed her declaration.
The same thought came to both of them, and Luce sucked in a sharp breath.
“Perhaps the letters just got lost.”
“Or someone lost them,” he spat, his jaw clenching with barely contained fury.
She had no doubt he would be arguing with the Queen later, demanding to know what had happened to their correspondence.
Luce released a tired sigh and moved to hold his hand, her fingers intertwining with his.
“It does not matter.
We are here now,” she gave him a half-hearted smile and slid down the cramped hallway to sit on the cold stone.
They must have spent a better part of an hour discussing all the things they had done while apart.
As terrible as it was, Luce felt glad to learn that he had been just as forlorn without her as she was without him.
The thought that he might replace her with another companion had plagued her for all the weeks she had spent awaiting his letters.
To know that his devotion was still strong was the sweetest relief she could ever feel.
Still, it did nothing to dampen her worry.
The shadow of death hung over everything, coloring even their reunion with sorrow.
“I wish we had reunited under different circumstances.
Ones that did not involve any death.”
Curling into a ball, she hooked her hands around her knees and brought them to her chest, making herself as small as possible.
Aemond regarded her wistfully, the purple of his eyes as dark as cobalt in the dim light.
“I am sorry about what happened.”
“Do not be.
I did not know Lady Laena.”
“I know.
I meant Ser H…”
The words immediately died in his throat, and he averted his gaze as if he had said something unforgivable.
Luce gritted her teeth against the surge of emotion that threatened to overwhelm her.
“I know,” she finally announced, the tightness in her chest leaving her breathless.
“It has passed now.
We can put it behind us and sail home.”
“To Dragonstone?”
She made no effort to reply, her silence speaking volumes.
“I had heard my father say how he means to invite Uncle Daemon and his daughters to court.
You could come too.”
Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she shook her head.
“No, I cannot.
Mother will never leave, not now.
And Jace will not either.
“You do not have to go with them.
You can come by yourself.”
She could not resist looking at him then.
His face was stoic, determined, filled with a kind of burning disdain that made bile rise in Luce’s throat.
The intensity of his gaze was almost frightening.
“I am not leaving them,” she countered, her voice firm despite the trembling in her hands.
“They are family.
Jace is my brother.
I cannot abandon him.”
“He is an idiot.”
“Em!” she hissed, shocked by his cruelty.
“It is true, Cera.
He has been nothing but terrible to me and to you.
He does not deserve your loyalty.”
“That is not true.
He is just hurt and lonely, and he does not know how to express those feelings.”
The truth of those words had become so plain during their time on Dragonstone.
For all his bravado, her brother was and always would be a gentle soul who craved love and validation.
He lashed out because he was afraid, not because he was cruel.
“No, you are wrong,” Aemond shook his head, his disdain quickly morphing into a quiet anger that simmered beneath the surface.
“He is wicked.
Wicked to the bone.”
Her breath hitched at the word.
She stared at Aemond, her own anger rising to meet his.
“If he is wicked, then so am I.”
“No, I…” his expression fell, and he immediately entwined his fingers with hers.
“You are different.
Better.
And you should not let him or any one of them reduce you.”
She sputtered, almost asking him what he meant by them, but decided she lacked the strength to argue.
Her reserves of energy were depleted, drained by grief and worry and the weight of everything that had happened.
“He does not reduce me.
Granted, he is not the kindest person ever.
But what brother is?
At the end of the day, he is still mine own.
And I love him.”
If she thought that refusing his invitation to King’s Landing had left him dejected, this declaration made him positively despondent.
He jerked back as if she had slapped him, his jaw clenching so hard that she could hear his teeth grinding together.
“You are too soft,” he spat, turning up his nose.
Luce could not tell if he meant the words as an insult or as a lament.
Nevertheless, she chose not to pay it mind.
“Good.
Someone should be.
We are never going to end this strife if we are always at each other’s throats.”
“You do not end strife with softness.
You end it with fire and blood.”
She blinked, a strange hollow opening in her chest.
The words hung in the air between them, heavy with meaning.
“I think that is precisely what got us into this mess in the first place.”
Silence lingered between them for what seemed like an eternity.
Finally, Aemond released a sigh and shut his eyes to compose himself.
When he opened them again, the fire was still there, banked but not extinguished.
“I know you are afraid,” he began, his voice low and intense.
“I am too, but you need not be.
I will protect you.
I will find a way to rid you of this terrible stain once and for all.”
The fire crackling in the depths of his purple eyes made her shrink into herself.
She had never seen him like this before, so driven, so certain.
“I do not understand.
What do you mean to do?”
“What I was born to do.
What all great scions of my house have done before.”
She expected him to elaborate, to explain his cryptic words.
Instead, he leaned in to kiss her.
This one was just as forceful as the last, his hand going for her neck while the other held her firmly in place by the waist.
When she felt his tongue part her lips, she jerked back.
Roaring purple eyes stared back at her, alight with the ravenous blaze of dragonfire.
He looked like a stranger, this boy she had thought she knew so well.
“He does not think of you as family.” Jace’s words sounded at the back of her mind once more, but now they took on a different meaning.
It was not that Aemond did not care about her at all.
Perhaps it was that he did not care about her as an uncle would for a niece.
She pondered that thought on her way back to her chambers.
It all seemed so silly.
If he did not mean for her to be family, did he mean for her to be a wife?
No, that was stupid.
Granted, House Targaryen had wed brother to sister for hundreds of years to keep their bloodline pure.
But Aemond was not her brother, Jace was, and the thought of wedding Jace turned her stomach in ways nothing else did.
She supposed that in that respect, wedding Aemond was preferable, but it still meant she would have to be a wife.
Who wants to be a wife?
All the wives she knew were miserable.
The Queen, her Lady mother, the noble women at court.
They all languished inside all day, doing nothing except birthing children and fussing over their husbands.
Lucera thought she would rather die than be caged so.
Her destiny was to fly free, to explore the world on dragonback.
I must talk with Aemond on the morrow.
Surely, she had misunderstood his intention.
He must have only thought of her as his gentle niece who needed his love and support.
In place of her own chambers, she sought out Jace’s.
“I did not find Mother,” she announced when she crept in.
The smell of dying embers filled the dimness as she gingerly approached the bed.
Jace lay sprawled beneath the covers, squinting at the book in his lap.
“No, you found someone else,” he mumbled into his chin.
The image of the kiss Aemond had planted on her made her cheeks redden for the first time, and she averted her gaze.
Jace did not seem to care.
“So?”
“So what?”
“So why are you here?
You can go to him, you know.”
Luce forced down the lump in her throat.
“Well, if you must know, I thought we might spend some time together.
I could read to you for a bit.
Like old times?”
Silence answered her declaration.
The fact that Jace would not even look at her left her shattered.
“I am sorry,” she blurted, collapsing onto the foot of the bed.
“For everything I said.
I never meant it.
You are not terrible, you never were.
It is Aegon and the others who are stupid idiots, not you.”
The emotion overcame her so fiercely that she almost screamed those last words.
She let her head hang in shame, bitter tears welling in her eyes.
The soft thud of a book closing drew her attention.
“No, I am sorry,” Jace announced, his voice thick with emotion.
“For everything I have ever said to you.
I should not have been so callous.
You are the only person in the world who can understand what I am feeling.
I should have cherished that, not derided it.”
She released a shuddering breath, quickly leaning in to hold his hand.
“Jace.”
“No,” her brother fired, cutting her off.
“It was not right.
And I need to change that.
I will change that.” Scooting closer to her, he returned her squeeze, his head held high.
“We are in danger now.
They will all be coming for us.
The Queen, Ser Criston, Aegon, and Aemond.”
His words made her balk, but he yanked on her hand, demanding her attention.
“I know you do not want to hear that, but you must.
They hate us.
No matter what we do or how well we treat them, they always will.
Because of what we are.
And no amount of friendly affection will change nature.”
His fingers trailed across her thumb, the expression on his face grave.
“We must stick together.
Be allies, just like Mother said.
Elsewise we will end up just like our father.”
Hearing Jace acknowledge the truth so plainly made the knot in Luce’s gut burst.
She held his gaze, her head a mess of upsetting thoughts.
“Promise me you will be by my side.” The sweet earnestness of his voice undid her.
The tear slid down her cheek, and she swallowed hard, cursing the Gods for making her as she was.
“I am always by your side,” she whispered.
“I was by your side before anyone else.”
Elation filled Jace’s face, and he wrestled her into his arms.
When they broke apart, he brushed his lips against hers, a quick gentle touch lacking anything other than plain platonic affection.
The kind of kiss family would share.
Luce could not stomach leaving his chamber after that.
They spent hours reading the book together until the grief and fear had exhausted her enough to make her surrender herself to sleep.
It was hushed whispers that forced her awake.
When she turned over to the other side, Jace was not there.
Squinting, she spied him standing in the doorway, exchanging brisk words with two figures with silver hair.
Half a moment later, he and one of the girls disappeared out into the hallway.
“Baela?” Luce called, her eyes finally adjusting enough to recognize her cousin.
“Lucera?” Baela turned to her, her expression dark.
She was bundled in a night shift, her hair a frizzy mess.
It seemed she too had just risen from bed.
“Go back to sleep.
You were not supposed to wake.”
“No, what has happened?
Where is Jace?”
“He has left, he…” Her voice caught in her throat, and she paused.
“Someone stole Vhagar.”
The words were like a splash of ice water.
Luce immediately leapt out of bed, ignoring Baela’s protests to stay in the room.
Her cousin at last relented, and they marched down the corridor to the back entrance that opened into the courtyard.
Loud screams greeted their arrival.
“Vhagar was my mother’s dragon!” Rhaena bellowed, alight with fury.
“Your mother is dead.
And Vhagar has a new rider now.” Lucera just about stumbled over her own feet when Aemond’s voice rang out.
They burst into the narrow passage to find him there, facing off against her brother and cousin.
His hair was a tangled mess, caked with soot and dirt.
But his skin was flush, his eyes burning with pride and elation.
His words slowly sank in.
He had claimed a dragon.
And not just any beast.
The largest, most fearsome mount in the world.
Luce had only the barest moment to feel joy.
His greatest wish had finally come true.
Rhaena made that joy turn to ashes in her mouth.
“How dare you?
She was mine to claim!” her cousin hissed, her hands balled into fists.
“Then you should have claimed her,” Aemond spat, dusting off his surcoat with deliberate carelessness.
“Maybe your cousin should find you a pig to ride.
It would suit you more.”
“Em!” Luce gasped, her heart thundering in her chest.
“What is wrong with you?”
It was then that he finally chose to acknowledge her.
His jaw clenched, and for half a breath she thought he would lower his head in shame.
“Stay out of it, Cera,” he demanded instead, the fire in his eyes blazing red hot.
“I told you, I will handle this.”
“You will not handle anything,” Jace seethed.
Lucera moved to seize him before he could do anything foolish, but the attack came all the same.
With a fierce cry, Rhaena lunged forward, shoving Aemond as hard as she could.
Though the push barely caused him to stumble, he still returned it in kind.
Rhaena toppled over into the dirt, screaming when her knee hit a jagged rock.
Her cry sent Baela into a frenzy.
Growling, she swung at Aemond, her punch landing right on his jaw.
To Luce’s horror, he struck back immediately, socking her cousin in the nose so hard that blood burst from it in a torrential spew.
“Come at me again and I will feed you to my dragon!”
No amount of pulling could hold Jace back then.
He charged, swinging madly at Aemond as if they were in the training yard.
Aemond dodged and parried his blows, giving just as many as he took.
Luce’s head spun with the chaos of it all.
“No, no, stop it, stop it!” she screamed, feeling as if she might retch.
“Stop it, both of you, you are ruining it, you are ruining everything!”
Her cries fell on deaf ears.
Jace had seized Aemond by the throat, his fingers squeezing in a mad fury.
She ceased thinking then.
Charging, she clawed at their entwined arms, trying to break them apart.
The force of her pushing made Jace stumble and release his hold.
Aemond’s hand slipped at an awkward angle, catching her right in the mouth.
The power of the blow was eclipsed only by the pain that spread across her face.
She flew back, landing on the ground with a dull thud.
“Cera!” Aemond screamed.
He quickly shoved Jace away, stumbling to kneel at her side.
The expression on his face was filled with torturous regret.
Luce could not bear to look at it.
“I am sorry, I slipped, I…” His words died on his lips.
With a vicious roar, Jace kicked him down into the dirt.
“You stay away from her!” he shrieked, his hand reaching into his waistband.
All feeling in Luce’s legs severed when he pulled the blade.
“Jace, no…” she breathed, shivering.
Baela and Rhaena rushed Aemond, kicking and punching at him with ferocity.
He blocked their blows as best he could, at one point managing to find enough strength to shove Rhaena away.
When Baela moved to straddle him, he swung at her head.
The sickening crunch that echoed through the passage made Luce scream.
Baela fell to the side, clutching her head.
Aemond forced himself up, a rock in his hand.
Jace ceased hesitating.
Hand wrapped firmly around the blade hilt, he swung at his uncle, aiming right for his throat.
Aemond evaded the slash quickly, blinking away the trickle of blood that had slid into his left eye.
They danced around each other like wild cats, dodging and parrying each other’s strikes.
In a flash, Jace’s foot caught against something and he stumbled.
Aemond took the chance to knock the knife from his hand and kick in his knee.
Her brother fell to the ground with a pained cry, a cloud of dust rising to swallow him.
Aemond came to stand above him, rock raised.
“You will die screaming in flames, just as your father did.”
“My father is still alive, you stupid idiot,” Jace hissed, his bloodied jaw tight.
The smirk blossoming on Aemond’s lips left Luce sick.
“As if you do not know.
Lord Strong.” He sneered, the outline of his profile a mirror to Aegon’s.
“Fucking bastards, the both of you.”
Silence rang in Luce’s ears.
The numbness in her legs was still there, and it spread into her chest, her hands, all the way up to her nose.
They hate us.
It did not matter that they were friends.
That he had held her hand and played with her on the beach.
That he had pressed his lips to hers and promised to protect her.
She was a bastard, and she always would be.
And short of reversing time, there was nothing she could do about it.
Sorrow choked her throat, and she could not breathe.
Aemond raised the rock higher, his lips twisted into a vengeful scowl.
Again, Jace’s words sounded in her head.
Promise me you will be there for me.
She was moving, her hands blindly searching through the dirt.
When her fingers felt the cold wood, she seized it, her flesh shaking.
They are going to kill us.
They are going to kill us both.
Shutting her eyes, she squeezed the blade.
Then, she swung.
Also, feel free to check out