Welcome to another OC story! This time, Prince Lucerys of the House Targaryen!
This one will be a bit different to most book/show period Targaryen OC's out there, and I sincerely hope that you all enjoy it!
I own nothing but Lucerys Targaryen and any other characters that aren't named in either A Song of Ice and Fire or HBO's Game of Thrones.
298 AC
The seawater lapped calmly against the hull of the Vhaegon, as the imposing war ship kept its course along the bright blue waters of the northern Summer Sea. On board, close to one hundred men were frantically getting to work preparing numerous long-range weapons for the battle that they all knew was getting closer every second.
Atop the quarterdeck stood two men. One was elder, with greying red hair cut close to the head, and he was looking through a far eye out at an island far in the distance. "We're close." He said.
"Good." The younger of the two grinned. His purple eyes gleaming in the hot sunlight almost as much as the shiny steel armour he was wearing. "Ready the fleet." He commanded the elder.
"At once, Captain General." The red head obeyed.
"I've told you a thousand times Jon, to you I'm just Luke." The younger man said, wiping his shoulder length silver hair out of his face.
Jon Connington, former Hand of King Aerys the Second and now a key figure in the ranks of the Golden Company, shook his head at that. "To me, you're my King. But you refuse to let me call you that as well Lucerys."
"Because my brother is still alive." Lucerys, one of the last members of House Targaryen, reminded the Stormlander. "He may think I'm dead, but he is still my Father's heir and so he is the rightful heir. What we do today is for him and my sister."
"Of course." Jon said knowingly as he'd heard those words hundreds of times. He grabbed the signalling flags. "What do you want me to say?"
Luke placed both hands on the wheel and stared at the island city that was becoming clearer on the horizon. "Exactly like when we faced the Crows Eye." He said with a menacing smirk, taking in the sight of Euron Greyjoy's repurposed ship beneath his feet. "They made fools of my family and stole from them. Take no prisoners."
Jon grinned back before turning around to signal to the other 49 ships in the fleet before walking quickly down the stairs to scream at the men. "The Captain General has decreed no prisoners! Strike true, strike hard. Send these bastards down to the depths and Lys shall be ours by nightfall!"
The men cheered, and Luke couldn't help the smirk on his face. Briefly putting one hand on the ruby decorating the pommel of his Valyrian Steel sword for comfort, he soon focused solely on leading the fleet towards Lys. The bells from the city could soon be heard, as a small number of Lyseni ships began to sail out, rushed and uncoordinated.
"I know those sails." Jon commented as he returned to the quarterdeck. "Salladhor Saan."
The famous pirate sell sail of the Summer Isles, Luke remembered. "This will be easy." Luke told himself, wiping his silver hair away from his eyes again as the sea wind whipped it around. "PREPARE TO BRACE!" He roared, as the men pushed out the assault ramp at the bow of the ship, ready to drop it on the first one they could find.
The Vhaegon was one of the newer ships in the Golden Company's arsenal, having taken a dozen ships from the Ironborn after an assault on the Summer Islands had led the Golden Company to the exiled Greyjoy's fleet. A lengthy battle had been had, but the Company had won, and Luke had taken the Silence for himself, renaming and redecorating it, and incarcerating the remains of the mad Greyjoy in the figurehead for all to know to be terrified when they saw the Vhaegon. Luke soon shook the image of Euron Greyjoy's body out of his mind as he turned the wheel to the left slightly, ready to impact with the first ship they found.
And what an impact it was. Gripping on to the wheel tightly Luke felt himself jolted to the left as the Dragon's mouth came crashing down onto the largest Lyseni ship and the battle soon started. Half of his crew manned the catapults aiming at the other oncoming ships while the other half streamed down the narrow gangway onto the Lyseni in disarray. "Jon! You have the wheel!" He screamed at his friend and mentor, as Luke withdrew the Valyrian Steel sword Blackfyre and sprinted towards the bow and onto the other ship.
Almost immediately as he ran down the gangway onto The Valyrian, carving his Valyrian Steel blade through the leather armour of one of the pirates, spilling guts onto the deck. Flicking his wrist, Luke then found a new opponent, clashing blades twice before the pirate fell to the ground, blood pouring from his neck. Blood spattering in his face, Luke wiped his eyes with his sleeve and walked menacingly towards the wheel, leaving a trail of dismembered and bleeding corpses behind him as he went.
Rising up the stairs his eyes caught sight of the famous Summer Islander, dressed in ornate clothes as usual, slashing his scimitar diagonally down a Golden Company man's torso, before he kicked Luke's deceased comrade to the floor with a laugh and looked in the direction of the Targaryen.
"You're a pretty boy." Saan said, holding his sword out at Luke. "You'd be worth a fortune in the pleasure houses."
Luke smirked. "It is a shame that the price on your head is worth far more than they'd give me for you, or I might be selling you to those whorehouses, Saan."
Saan was amused, and his face showed it a wide grin. "This dance shall be fun."
"For one of us." Luke agreed, and he struck out quickly with Blackfyre, the sharp and famous blade getting to mere inches away from the pirate's throat before it was batted away with the scimitar. Another blow to the left was blocked, before Lucerys was forced to jump backwards, missing a swing from Saan.
He stepped into the attack again, as Blackfyre sang as Luke swung at the pirate from all angles with ferocity. Luke was taller and stronger than Saan and it showed as the Captain General of the Golden Company forced the pirate against the back end of his own ship. Standing tall with the sea wind whipping his hair around his face, salt water and sweat dripping from the silver Valyrian locks, Luke watched as Saan unwillingly trembled, before Blackfyre parried a weak attack away and was driven into the heart of the pirate.
As the Summer Islander gasped his last breath and slumped to the floor, Luke quickly and cleanly severed his head, sticking it on the point of Blackfyre by the neck and he then held the sword up for all to see on the main deck of the Valyrian. The pirates there to defend Lys all looked up, and once they saw their captain's severed head they stopped their fights almost simultaneously, dropping their swords and other various weapons in surrender, disheartened by the death of their leader. The men of the Golden Company acknowledged their victory by cheering loudly as Luke walked back over to the Vhaegon and retaking the wheel.
"They're breaking!" Jon exclaimed almost as soon as Luke's hands touched the pristine wood, having to shout loudly over the noise of catapults firing. Luke looked around him and saw that the Stormlander was right, the Lyseni ships were trying to flee leaving the city open for the next phase of their assault.
"Good!" Luke cried. "Bring the ramp up, we have a city to sack!"
The city of Lys was soon dripping with blood as the Golden Company roamed freely in the streets. Unlike the vast majority of men in his employ Luke wasn't interested in stealing or raping random citizens, and instead of causing havoc he and a loyal group of men fought their way through the city towards the cliffside palace that was the home of the three Magisters of Lys. It wasn't long after arriving before the doors had been kicked in and the Company were through, slaughtering the palace guards.
Once the dying screams of the guards had quietened, Luke ordered for his men to gather up the three Magisters and all of their families. That was also done efficiently, and Luke had barely had time to move to the Lyseni equivalent of a throne room to sit on the central throne of three Magisters in the lavish hall. Jon was stood to his right as the three families were forced to their knees in front of him.
"Which one of you is the wealthiest?" Luke asked bluntly in his native Valyrian tongue. The three looked between one another, terrified, but silent. Answer me now, or you will all die painful deaths."
"Him!" The youngest of the three men shouted, his tanned face had been drained of colour through fear. He was pointing to a middle-aged man who was holding the hand of his rather rotund wife. He has an entire bank! "Take him and let the rest of us live in peace!"
Luke was grateful that it hadn't taken long at all and he nodded the once to Jon, who stepped forwards and stabbed the younger man in the heart, before then doing the same to the third Magister. "Take their families. Give the women to the men of the company, give the men to the slavers." Luke commanded. A grim punishment for them perhaps, but his wrath at the sight of these people was barely being contained. He waited for the wailing women and children of the murdered Magisters to be forced out of the room before Luke rose out of the Rogare throne and walked up to the only remaining Magister, who had fallen to his knees at the deaths of his colleagues. "Baelor Rogare, I presume?" He could tell by the family broach still depicting their attempt at a Westerosi sigil.
"You know me?" Baelor answered in the common tongue.
"I do." Luke replied. "House Rogare has a… reputation. I think we may even be distantly related somehow." The 19-year-old shrugged nonchalantly. He wasn't there for a family reunion after all.
The Rogare had the same thought process. "What do you want? What has Lys done to offend the Company?" Baelor asked.
"It's more what you've done to offend Myr." Luke admitted with a wry smirk.
"We can pay more." Rogare tried, but Jon just barked out a laugh beside Luke.
"I highly doubt that." The elder man chuckled.
"They are being very generous." Luke told Baelor honestly. "And they're letting us keep everything we plunder, all they want is Lys out of the Disputed Lands."
"There must be something you want to leave us be." Baelor begged. "Please, we are a peaceful island..."
"Peaceful?" Luke asked darkly, interrupting the man. "Tell me, Lord Rogare, do you remember hosting two children a few years ago? Two scared, innocent children that just wanted your help?"
Rogare's eyes widened, the silver hair and the purple eyes of his captor suddenly becoming extremely clear. "No… you can't be…"
"All they wanted was shelter and safety, and you stole everything valuable they had and chucked them out in the dirt!" Luke was bordering on shouting now. "Their money, their jewels, their mother's crown!"
Rogare was now on all fours at Luke's feet, crying and begging. "Please... we had no choice… King Robert…"
"NEVER!" Luke roared, making even those that knew him best shudder in a sudden fit of fear at the anger he was showing. "Never call him that in my presence!"
"Luke." Jon warned before Luke went too far and cut bits off of the Rogare man, and the Targaryen quickly closed his eyes and began to breath slowly. When he opened them once more he took a closer look at the Magister's family.
His wife was silently sobbing, and his eldest son, a boy of no more than fourteen was trying and struggling to break free of his captors. The man also had two daughters, with the eldest one carrying a slight baby bump. It was the younger daughter that caught his eye however, a beautiful looking girl with light indigo eyes and the typical silvery hair of Valyria. Luke moved towards her, gesturing her to stand.
"What's your name?" Luke asked her softly. Baelor began to protest but a punch to the side of the head silenced him.
"Valarra." The girl said, standing firm and resolute in his presence.
Unfortunately for her however, this only seemed to infatuate Luke more with the girl. "How old are you, Valarra?" Luke followed up.
"Sixteen."
Luke smiled, and nodded his happy acknowledgement of that when the company paymaster, Gorys Edoryen, came in holding two objects of great importance.
"We found them." He cried triumphantly, walking up to Luke. "Your Magnificence." He bowed, over exaggerating his words as he held out the objects that they had truly taken the contract with Myr and decided to come to Lys for, one was a crown, and the other a sword.
Luke took the delicate crown in his hands and hitched a breath. It was a simple black gold circlet with three small rubies at the front, but it meant everything to him. "My Mother's crown." He whispered. "Finally." Next, he took the sword from Gorys, unsheathing it to reveal the Valyrian Steel Sword of House Rogare, Truth. Admiring the blade, he used it to rip open Valarra Rogare's dress, exposing her young, naked body to the room as the dress fell to her feet. Baelor once again tried to protest, along with the Rogare heir, but they were both beaten again and held back.
Luke stood there for a moment, admiring the still resolute young woman's figure. She didn't try to hide her breasts, she just stood there, an angry look on her face. "You are beautiful, my dear." Luke told the girl, holding out his hand to stroke her cheek as she held her head high, trying to not show any weakness. "You'll do perfectly." He gestured for one of his men to bring a Targaryen banner to him, as Luke wrapped her up himself before taking her hand with a slight hint of force. He turned to Baelor, who was looking dazed from the blows and tears were in his eyes. "In the name of my brother, Viserys. The rightful King of Westeros. I, Lucerys of House Targaryen, do take back what was stolen from my House, as well as your family sword and your daughter as compensation for your ill treatment of my brother and sister." He then whispered darkly to the Magister. "If you ever cross House Targaryen again, then I will not be as merciful as I am now."
As the words settled in and Baelor's wife began crying for her daughter, Luke led Valarra out of the Magister's Palace by the hand, as she used her other one to keep the banner around her body, silent tears now beginning to fall down her cheeks.
A few days after the Sacking of Lys, Luke and the Golden Company were back in their camp on the Essosi mainland, deep within the Disputed Lands that had seen so much conflict through the years. He rode in last of all his men, with his prize sat in front of him on his horse, her back pressed closely to his chest. He rode towards the impressive tent that he had called home since his other mentor Myles Toyne's death little over two years before. Dismounting, he pulled Valarra off of his horse too, and held her hand as they walked past the company banner with the golden skulls of past Captain-General's and they entered through the tent flaps.
"This is your home now." Luke told her, turning to the girl as they reached the ornate bed. "You don't leave this tent without me or Jon."
"Of course, my lord." Valarra replied passively, her eyes still defiant.
Luke sighed, running a hand down her cheek softly and noticing when she flinched. "Do you understand why you're here?"
"I'm to be your whore." She said, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
Luke snorted out a soft laugh. "I guess you could say it like that. Your Father insulted my House by his treatment of my siblings. You being here is more a warning to him than anything else, so long as you don't become a problem to us you will be treated as well as your station demands, I guarantee it." Valarra didn't say anything, instead just stared Luke down with her indigo eyes. Luke smirked, as two women were ushered into the tent. "These two are your maids, they will bring you food, help you get dressed and will be your companions when I am not here with you." He said to Valarra, before turning to the elder of the two girls. "Make her pretty." He told them, before he left Valarra alone with the girls, stepping towards the back corner of the tent.
There was a separate section there, kept hidden by the drooping black fabric with a red three headed dragon snaking down the material. Pushing it to one side, Luke knelt before the black oak chest. Out of his shirt he brought out three keys, using each one to unlock a separate lock before pushing the chest open. Smiling, he again reached into his shirt and pulled out the circlet that had once been the prized possession of his Mother. He kissed the middle ruby before placing it alongside his other prizes. Eying up the thin jewelled golden crown of Jaehaerys I, the simple golden band of Aegon III and the warlike black spikes of Maekar's own crown, Luke grinned to himself. "Three more to go." He whispered to himself, before locking the chest once again and returning to his bedchamber and his new prize.