Luke stands at his family's side as ships pull into Dragonstone. Their Grandpapa the King arrives today along with the Queen and their aunt and uncles. He isn't excited. Vissie likes Helaena, and she always plays with them when they ask, and Daeron's fine, he supposes, but Aemond and Aegon are rude and short-tempered, and Vissie calls them asshats. He doesn't know what that means exactly, but it doesn't sound like a good thing, so he thinks he agrees.
"Stay still, Luke," Mama says as he rocks from foot to foot. She's holding his newest brother, Aemon, in her arms. Papa had been against it at first, saying how he could get sick, but Mama had replied by saying, "We'll only be out for a moment, and it's important the Hightower bit- the Queen sees him. And besides, it's not so cold. You fretting isn't necessary."
Luke knows that any royal child, especially the heir's, is important. But Mama boasts about Aemon, delights in his black hair and pale violet eyes, and he can't help but feel resentful towards him. Before, Mama's attention was split equally. Now, she spends all her time with her youngest.
"Here they come," Vissie says. Luke glances at her. Her face is set in a neutral expression, eyes unreadable, but she's trembling beside him. He frowns. His sister is their parents' daughter, strong and fierce, and the thought of her being upset makes him upset. He slips his hand into hers.
"What's wrong?" he whispers as the royal party approaches.
"Nothing, Valonqar," she shakes her head.
Luke bites the inside of his cheek. He could push, and she might tell him, but she might also snap, and then he'll never find out. Instead of forcing an answer, he just squeezes her hand in silent comfort. She smiles at him, and he returns the look.
Three dragons circle overhead as they wait for the royal family of King's Landing: Meleys, Seasmoke, and Syrax. Caraxes and Uncle Daemon are missing. Mama frowns up, lips pressed tightly together when she doesn't spot him, and Papa's eyes narrow.
"Summon that uncle of yours, Rhaenyra," Papa mutters.
"And then what, Laenor? Have him stand next to us? Is that what you want?" Mama hisses back. Her voice is so low Luke can barely hear, and he inches closer by instinct. Well, he tries to until he's pulled back.
"Don't worry about what the adults are fighting over, Valonqar," she whispers. Then her face twists and he turns to see what she's looking at.
A litter with the crest of a red, three-headed dragon on a black field, is making its way across the sand. Horses trot to them in a steady gate. Another shadow falls over them, and Luke looks up. His eyes widen.
Dreamfyre spirals down slowly, roaring out in greeting to the other dragons, blue-and-silver scales flashing against the rays of the sun. From her back, Helaena waves eagerly, laughing over the wind and her mount's flapping wings as sand flies everywhere and she lands. Sliding out of her saddle, she races to them.
Luke is envious. It will be years until Arrax is old enough to ride as such.
"Vissie!" his aunt shouts in greeting. She's wearing riding leathers and high boots, but she's still managing to run, a smile from ear-to-ear upon her face.
"Aunt," Vissie curtsies easily. Helaena blinks for a moment, as if confused about why her niece doesn't just go and hug her, before realizing the pointed stares she's getting. She blushes.
"Sister," she bows, "Goodbrother. It is an honor to be with you upon Dragonstone." Mama's eyebrow is raised high, but she nods. Papa smiles.
"It is an honor to have you here, Helaena," Mama replies. Aemon squirms in her arms and Grandmama clears her throat, catching Helaena's attention.
"Is this my newest nephew?" she croons. Walking to him, she stands on her tiptoes. Her mouth drops open. "Why Cousin Rhaenys, he looks everything like you!" Grandmama smiles proudly and moves to kiss his brow. A stab of irritation pierces Luke.
Aemon this, Aemon that. What's so interesting about him anyway? All he does is sleep and cry.
He's cut from his thoughts as warm arms wrap around him. "Luke!" his aunt cries, "You've gotten so big! Why, now you reach my chest!" He straightens with pride. "And Baela and Rhaena! You're beautiful as always! Joff! I see you're a tough man now!" Joff taps at the wooden training sword- and it's actually Luke's- that he insisted on carrying with him proudly. Helaena ruffles his hair.
"What am I," Vissie laughs, "Chopped liver?" There's a moment of confused silence. Sometimes, Vissie says things that don't make any sense. Like right now, or when she says, 'We're on two different wavelengths,' or when she goes off into her own head and starts muttering to herself about dances and dragons before realizing what she's doing and snapping her mouth shut. Mama calls it 'one of her eccentricities.' Papa calls it 'endearing.'
"Chopped liv-" Helaena shakes her head, "You know what? Nevermind. Come and give me a hug!" She flies at Vissie, who spreads her arms open, and they tumble to the sand.
"Helaena!" A voice cuts out across the beach, thick with disapproval. Luke recognizes it. Turning, he sees Grandpapa's wife, the Queen, stepping out of her litter, his Mama's Papa and their children in tow. "Act like the princess youare! You are not some savage!"
Helaena stiffens. Standing slowly, she dusts herself off. "My apologies, Mother," she says. The Queen's face softens and she draws Luke's aunt close and kisses her forehead.
"Your Graces," Mama says, "I welcome you to my seat of Dragonstone." Something flashes across the Queen's face, fierce and ugly, and Luke bristles.
"Rhaenyra!" Grandpapa cries, "It is so good to see you again! And the children, oh, they've grown so much!"
The Queen smiles at the mention of Luke and his siblings. It's not a pretty smile, sharp and angry."Yes," she says, "And I do believe you have another babe now, my princess, and that he is in your arms right this second. Show him to us. I am sure that, like his siblings, he is a strong, handsome child with his… Arryn looks."
Mama's returning smile, which had been so smug before, freezes. Papa's face twists with anger. Grandmama scowls and Kepar-that is the Valyrian term for grandfather, and what Vissie has taken to calling Papa's Papa- stiffens. Luke doesn't know what's so bad about calling him and Vissie and Joff strong, but he stays quiet.
"Alicent!" Grandpapa turns to his wife, voice full of irritation and warning.
"It would be my pleasure to show you my son, Your Grace," Mama says through gritted teeth, "As you know, he is named Aemon, after his grandmother's father." The Queen steps forward, her lip curling, only for shock and disbelief to spread across her face when she catches sight of Luke's brother. For the life of him, he can't understand why.
"Now," Papa says, his tone cheerful but his eyes hard, "Shall we head to the castle?" Luke wonders why the Queen's family looks so put-out, and why his family seems so proud the entire way there.
.
.
.
The feast is in full swing, laden with music and dancers and even Mama's fool, Mushroom, is putting on a show when Uncle Daemon comes bursting through the doors. He's wearing a red-and-black doublet and trousers, his hair cut to his shoulders and flowing freely. Caraxes' whip is still at his hip and he is carrying a wooden box layered with velvet. "Brother," he calls, bowing low, "It is such a pleasure to see you here!"
"Enough of a pleasure that you did not show up to greet me," Grandpapa replies. Uncle Daemon grins.
"I was getting you your gift, brother!"
Grandpapa straightens.
"A gift from you is either a curse or a blessing. Should I be wary?"
"You wound me! I have collected the finest wines in all of Westeros for you, from Dornish Red to Arbour Gold! I must warn about the former, however- it can intoxicate quite swiftly, and cause one to take actions they otherwise would not!"
Luke is sitting slightly below Mama on the daias, but he hears her gasp from here. Looking to her, he sees her face is white. Her hand is gripping Papa's tightly.
What's so bad about wine?
Grandpapa roars with approval at Uncle Daemon's gift, and the court cheers. The case is cracked open and Grandpapa orders bottles to be poured in small amounts for his courtiers and they praise his generosity. Uncle Daemon bows again and takes a seat beside the twins, who latch onto him, nodding to Mama before turning his attention to his daughters.
"Get ready for a long feast, Valonqar," Vissie whispers as the Queen glares at their uncle, "This night is going to end either greatly or terribly."
.
.
.
Luke dances with Baela, stumbling over his feet and tripping as he tries to avoid stepping on her toes, as the court coos. His cousin's cheeks are flushed pink, whether from anger or embarrassment he doesn't know. Joff and Rhaena and Vissie sit to the side, as well as Aemon, Aegon, Helaena, and Daeron. His sister is speaking with their aunt about Dreamfyre- he catches snippets of their conversation- and Luke ends his dance with Baela, tired and curious about Helaena's dragon. Mama's ladies groan softly for a moment, but they're back to squealing when he bows and kisses Baela's hand. Then he pulls her over to the rest of the children.
Aegon looks bored and he's staring distantly into his goblet. Aemond is glaring at the dance floor with his arms crossed over his chest. Daeron is talking with Joff about his training sword. Baela curls beside Rhaena and they begin whispering amongst themselves, so Luke moves to Vissie and plops beside her.
"Luke," his sister kisses his cheek, "Hellie was just telling me about how she takes Dreamfyre flying every day! Did you know that her last rider was Rhaena Targaryen? The Old King's sister!"
She rambles on, her mood light, and he smiles. She is more at ease, now, happier, and that makes him glad. He hates seeing her upset.
Then, of course, Aemond has to ruin it.
"What right do you have to talk about dragons and dragonriders?" he sneers, "The last one you had, you ruined."
Luke goes tense and Vissie's face darkens. Her hands curl to fists.
"Don't be mean, Aemond," Helaena frowns.
"Don't be mean, Aemond," her brother mocks, "I'll say what I like, Helaena."
"No, you won't," Luke snaps, "You don't have the right to insult my sister under our mother's own roof."
His uncle glares at him. "I'm just speaking the truth," he says, "Everyone calls Visenya a genius, but she's the one who was so pathetic her own dragon hatched out as an abomination."
The room is dead silent, and Luke realizes that every. Single. Person. Is staring. At his sister's humiliation, a rage he's never felt before consumes him and he lunges for his uncle, hands outstretched.
"Luke!" Vissie screams and grabs at him, holding him back as he struggles against her. He breaks free and realizes Joff is right beside him, the two of them rushing Aemond.
"You're wrong!" they shout in unison as they shove him to the floor. "Vissie has a dragon, and it's a better one than you'll ever get!"
Then they realize what they've said and stare at one another in horror.
Oh no.
Slowly, they turn to look at their sister, expecting to see rage or betrayal on her face. What Luke sees instead confuses him. She's slumped against Helaena, the beginnings of a bruise on her face- I did that?- and her expression is a mask of relief.
"Luke, Joff," Mama's voice is iron as mutters begin to fill the room, "What did you just say?"
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A/N: This chapter was a bit shorter than I intended, but it felt clunky to just drag it out.
Aemond is kind of a dick, but he's like ten, and all kids are dicks at that age. Stuff changes now. The world now knows that Vissie is a dragonrider, and she just gained a hell of a lot of influence for that. She'll use that to the best of her abilities. Nothing really left to say, so have a great day or night wherever you are in the world :)