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Luke was five when he realized he did not like his hair.
It was to brown, to dark and much to curly. The exact same as many lords and ladies around the Red Keep. So he tried praying to the Gods for a change.
He wasn't picky. He’ll take white, silver, blond, or even grey if the Gods chose it. But alas, those prayers went unheard.
When he tried complaining to his mother, she chuckled, and kissed his common hair. “My sweet boy, with hair like the trees, how could I not love it so?”
Not wanting to disappoint her, he decided the color was fine. But the curls had to go and once his father walked in, he suddenly knew how.
“Father!” Leaping from Rhaenyra’s arms to Laenor’s, he drew laughter from both. “I want hair worms like yours!” He grabbed onto his father’s rope-like hair.
“Worms, I’ll show you worms-”
Laenor tickled the child into a ball of snorts.
“HAHA-father-HAHA!” It was hard to get out, but Luke was determined. “Pleaseeee!”
Finally stopping, Laenor looked at his wife. “Is he serious?”
“Yes husband.” Rhaenyra grasped her own white hair. “We cannot give him the color, but the style should do, should it not? He is a Velaryon after all.”
Luke smile along. “All Velaryons have rope hair, so I want rope hair.”
“Braids my son, these are braids.”
His father sat him on his lap in bed and attempted to change his hair. “I am not really the best at this, maybe a servant could-”
“I want you father!”
“Ok, ok.”
Laneor never did his own hair. His mother, his sister or servants always did it in the past. He tried parting and twisting the child’s curls. It was difficult with the length. Rhaenyra even handed him a comb. The result was a disaster.
“Is it ready?” Luke ran to his mother’s mirror very happy.
The hair in the mirror did not resemble his father at all. Brown twists were roll together with much hair sticking out. He still liked it.
Laenor felt proud. “They represent our pride for him.”
“Laenor…” Rhaenyra hated it. She did not want her child looking a mess. “I could do better and I'm no Velaryon. Come Luke, I will braid your hair like I did mine as a child.”
“No! I like it!”
Luke ran from the room. He finally looked like a Velaryon and had to show others. Which he soon regretted. Everyone laughed at him, especially Aemond.
The teasing made Luke go back to his regular boring hair. But he didn’t give up.
A servant said Luke’s hair just needed to be longer for proper Velaryon braids, so with patience, he grew it out.
--------------------------------------------------
At age eight, Luke was ready to try again.
Baela and Rhaena were his sisters now. Baela had curly hair so he paid her no attention. But Rhaena had braids. They were to her shoulders and very beautiful.
He begged her to do his. His hair was now down to his neck.
“But mom always did mine.” Rhaena tried to not cry. “She was the best, I miss her.” She finally did cry and Luke felt bad.
“I can do it!” A determined Baela grabbed a comb, a brush and oil. “This helps me!” She dunk oil onto his head, wetting the floor.
“Aw it stings!” While Luke tried wiping his poor eyes, Baela started to madly brush his oily hair. She was rough and Luke wanted to run away.
But if this was the way, he had to endure.
After brushing, she plucked him many times with the comb. Poor Rhaena tried talking him through the pain. “Don't worry Luke, you’ll have Velaryon hair very soon!”
“His hair is weird.” Each time Baela plaited a strand, it would began to loosen. “To much oil!”
“That's your fault!”
Finally helping, Rhaena ended up using threads to tighten the braids. “We’ll give you happy braids!” When everything was completed, he went to a mirror.
The result was a far great difference from what Laenor did before. Luke’s hair was fully braided, pouring down with colorful fabric. It was also very tight.
“It really hurts.”
Pressing his fingers through the hair, his scalp was brightly red. “But I really like it. Thank you Baela. Thank you Rhaena.”
After the proud twins cooed over him, Luke ran off to show others. Rhaenyra was horrified, but a snorting Daemon loved it.
Luke was very happy until they went to Aegon’s wedding.
Aegon spent more time teasing Luke’s hair than speaking to his bride, and Jace punched the groom in response.
Aemond was even worse. He yanked on Luke’s braids, telling him he liked his curls better.
A crying Luke went for his other eye.
---------------------------------------------------
At age ten, Rhaenys sat Luke in front of her vanity.
“You should have come to me sooner.” She massaged his hair gently, easing out any knots. “I will not have my grandchild looking like a fool no more.”
He pouted a little. “I just wanted to look like a Velaryon.”
“I am a Velaryon in all but blood.” She began to deftly comb and part his hair. “The Gods know how much I labored over Laena and Laenor’s own hair. Yours is different than theirs.”
“I know.” By this point, he knew his hair was more like his mother’s and less like his father’s.
“Velaryon braids have meaning you know.” She plaited multiple brown strands tightly. “We have different braids for love, hope, joy and sorrow.”
“What braids will I have?” He was getting excited. “Will I finally look Velaryon?”
“You don’t need anything done to look like something you already are.” His eyes grew a little wet.
When she finished greasing his scalp, Luke looked himself over.
This time, his head did not hurt. The front of his hair was braided, and poured into curly hair where the ponytail connected. It was like a mixture of his mother’s simple braids with his father’s old style.
“I love it.” Overwhelmed, Luke almost knocked his grandmother down in a hug. “What does it mean?”
“You’ll figure it out.”
Once again, Luke ran off to his family.
This time, Rhaenyra was pleased and Daemon didn’t snort. All his siblings complimented him and grandsire Corlys showed Luke off to other kin.
When they went to King’s Landing for Luke’s trial, Aegon didn’t insult his hair for once. But a typical Aemond chased and cornered Luke into a hallway when they were alone.
Luke was prepared for the worse.
Instead, Aemond tied something into his hair. “I like this style better for you nephew, it keeps the curls.”
In shock, Luke waited for his uncle to leave and touched Aemond’s gift, a red bright ribbon, and finally realized what the style meant.
Laenor’s braids for him was pride, the twins was joy, and Rhaenys was family. But with the ribbon, another meaning was formed. This one was love.