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"Have you ever heard the story of sirens?"
Aemond looked up, startled at the sudden question. Laenor smiled down with those easy smile of his. When Aemond didn't reply, the Prince Consort shrugged; his gaze trailed to the yard where his 'sons' are training, then to the sea beyond the Red Keep.
This particular balcony indeed offered them the most beautiful view of the ocean. Aemond can't blame the man for invading his space, but that doesn't mean he can't sulk about it. He had fully prepared to ignore his good brother. It would be so easy, in fact, considering they almost never interacted before.
But curiosity got the best of him. Aemond snapped his book shut, turned to face Laenor. "What are they, these sirens?"
"Sirens," Laenor took a seat next to him. "Are mythical creature of the sea. Some sailors said that sirens can creates an illusion to drag people below. Show them their most desired, and whatnot."
Most desired, the young prince silently trailed his fingers over his book cover. It was another story about Aegon's Conquest, particularly when he burned down Harrenhal, so the cover depicted exactly that. He traced the outline of Balerion, then Vhagar, and a smaller Meraxes. Dragons, their family source of power. Dragon that he doesn't have.
"They were humans, once," Laenor continued, unaware of Aemond's souring mood. He gestured to the vast sea. "Typically women and slaves. Those who died in the sea, those with vengeance in their heart, doomed to roamed as a bad omen to sailors."
The man then turned to Aemond with one eyebrow raised, clearly waiting for a reaction. And honestly, Aemond didn't have one that might be satisfactory. But in the end the young prince puffed out his cheeks, shifted his gaze towards the yard. Someone's yelling, probably Aegon, followed by laughter, probably Jacaerys'.
"... Why are you telling me this?"
Laenor shrugged again. "Nothing, nothing truly. Just wanted to share some stories. My boys loves them."
Aemond scoffed at that. His boys. "Have you ever saw them yourself?"
"Gods, no," Laenor laughed. "But it's good to know, to be wary. The sea is an unforgiving force of nature, so it's good to have some cautions. To be always vigilant."
"I don't need to be vigilant at the sea," the boy stubbornly pouted. "I'll have a dragon. The sea would never be able to touch me."
Something flashed in Laenor's eyes. Pity? Concern? It doesn't matter for Aemond. Then he raised a hand and ruffled Aemond's hair. "You don't know what the future might hold, little one. Who knows, maybe the sea will come to you."
...
Strange, Aemond thinks, as he dismounts from Vhagar. Why does he suddenly being reminded of that conversation?
He looks down to his gloved hands. They're trembling slightly. There's salt in his tongue and wet sands under his boots, his hair in wild disarray. And to his left, there's the sea; wild and fierce, the storm still raging against his skin. He left something in the waves, didn't he? Something precious... To the sea, or to him?
What did Laenor said again? Something about the unforgiving sea and heart with vengeance.
"What is your favorite flower, Uncle?"
Huh?
Aemond whipped his head around, to find Lucerys standing next to him. His nephew is clad in the blue of House Velaryon, complete with pearls and seashells in his dark curls, a soft smile on his face. He twirls a dark red flower between his finger. With the Red Keep garden as his background, Lucerys looks ethereal, like he doesn't belong to this world.
not anymore
"Why would you want to know, anyway?"
He found himself answering. Strange, but he can't put his finger on what exactly is bothering him. Sure, he still can't stand his nephew, but the hatred has boiled down when Rhaenyra ascended the throne. If anything, now he feels immense guilt upon seeing those round eyes and soft cheeks, all bloodied--
Bloodied? Lucerys isn't bleeding. He's standing right in front of Aemond, head cocks to the side. His accessories catches on the mid morning sun, making him glimmer beautifully, like the sea below them.
"Mother loves lavender," Lucerys' eyes narrows to the flower in his hand. "Jace loves poppies, and Jeoff loves peonies. I just want to know your preferences."
He has to answer, but his throat feels like he just swallowed sand. "Oleander. I like oleander."
The beaming smile that Lucerys offers nearly make Aemond's heart bursts in its cage. "Ah, a poisonous flower? Very fitting for you, my dear betrothed."
Betrothed? There's something wrong with that. Aemond couldn't find a fault in Lucerys' words, but he feels shivers down his spine. After all, yes... Yes, they've been betrothed. He had agreed to it, happy even, to finally have his nephew for himself. That's why they're here in the garden, planning their wedding. That's why Lucerys asked him of his favorite flower.
"And what's yours?"
Lucerys startles at that, but he recovers quickly. He lifts the flower he's been holding right to Aemond's face. "This is my favorite, red carnation."
"Hmm," Aemond examines each red petals, red like blood. "Will your mother have these in your funeral?"
"Huh? Funeral?" the Velaryon heir looks visibly confuse. "What funeral, Uncle?"
"Your--"
Aemond stops, frowning. Right... Whose funeral? Because there will be no funeral. There will be weddings, and coronation, and happiness. Lucerys is betrothed to him, he's alive and well. No storms above the sea, no bloodshed, no sharp teeth ripping into small flesh. But for a second there...
"Uncle?" concern laces Lucerys' voice. His hands cups Aemond's face, pulling their faces closer. "Uncle, are you well?"
He isn't breathing, there's bile in Aemond's throat. Lucerys' hands feels cold and clammy on his cheeks, wet with saltwater and smells of metallic tang. He lost half of his body, didn't he? Vhagar had clamped down on him and Arrax, as a desperate Aemond tried to reach for him. He isn't breathing because he's supposed to be dead.
Unforgiving and heart full of vengeance...
"All is well, Uncle," Lucerys purrs in a strangely sweet voice, a voice that does not belong to a dead boy. "All is well. You hear me? Let us see a maester if you still feel unwell."
Aemond's eyes snaps open, without realizing he even closed them in the first place. Lucerys has let go of his face, now one of his hand holding onto Aemond's wrist. The scene changed; they're still in the garden, but everything around them is rotten. The Keep is on fire. Everything has darken under the storm, and the tides rages against the cliff. What the fuck is going on...
Lucerys' smile never falters, but he isn't wearing blue anymore. He looks exactly like the last time Aemond saw him, with dark clothes, no pearls and seashells in sight.
The boy tilts his head. "Should we go, Uncle? Everyone else is waiting."
The scene changes again, and Aemond feels like the earth sways under his feet. Lucerys, his sweet Lucerys, is wearing the traditional Valyrian bride attire. The pearls hanging from his headpiece frames his round face perfectly. Red lines his lips, red like blood. The castle of Dragonstone looms to their side.
Most desired...
The beach is calm, calmer than he ever remembered. Vhagar and Arrax snuggles close. He's holding his nephew's smaller hand in his, marveling at the warmth and softness of Lucerys' skin. There's a sharp pain behind his left eye-- which he promptly ignored. He basks in Lucerys tender gaze and gentle smile instead.
"Come, Husband," Lucerys tugs their hand, taking a step towards the castle. "Everyone else is waiting. We should go back inside."
"Yes, of course," Aemond chuckles. How silly of him to just stand there, as if they have forever.
...
A roar, and Aemond feels his body being yanked backwards.
He gasps.
He's back at the gloomy beach-- the storm's still raging, the waves coming closer and closer, as if trying to reach him. Vhagar is growling above him, one claw still curls around his torso. She stares down at something in the sea. Aemond swears he saw something too, something dark and full of vengeance.
At that moment, he decides he doesn't want to sit around and finds out.
As he make a scrambling to climb on Vhagar, he thinks back on his conversation with Laenor. Maybe the sea will come to you.
"To the Kingswood, Vhagar. I'm never going near the sea ever again."
And he has to figure out how to tell his mother about Lucerys.