The Stormlands are worthy of their name, Lucerys cannot help but think. The squalls here do not drizzle like the summer storms back on Dragonstone. No, they come like soldiers clad in armour as cold as ice, plowed forward by winds so savage they might even make his uncle seem tame.
Yet, even these rains seem callow when one faces Vhagar, last of the Conqueror's dragons and mightiest of all the dragons left. Her shadow alone seems to drown Storm's End in one swift gulp, as eerie as the sapphire eye that seemed to almost smoulder with inner light in his uncle's eye. The beating of her wings sends torrents of rain stronger than the wind, accompanied by a madman's high pitched laughter, screaming out for a debt to be repaid.
Luke cannot tell if his eyes are even stinging from the rain or from his tears. Arrax is nimble and swift, but oh so small. His body flails in parallel to Luke's fear, the evenly timed groan of the dragon of his late aunt sending him and his dragon further into a pit of dread. Luke can feel it in his bones, down to his very soul. The rains impede as much as they protect, and Aemond's cackles are never far away no matter how much they twist and turn, past black crags and rock beaten into smooth and simple cavities hollowed out by waves that crash so fiercely and with so much pace that one almost takes him away. Up above, Vhagar's giant shadow still looms.
Jace has always called her a hoary old bitch, with teats that sag worse than a wetnurse who has borne a dozen babes, and a mind gone to well into senility. Rhaena has always called her the dragon that was her mother's and that should have been hers.
Luke wishes nothing more than for that to be true. He wishes that on that night so many years ago, it was Rhaena who had gone for her. He wishes Jace and he had stayed abed instead of helping their cousins creep out of the keep during the night. He wishes that that thrice - damned dagger had never been pulled out, and that he had shoved his body into Aemond's instead. Instead of a frightened princeling whose eye was cut out, the guards would have seen the monster in child's skin that had threatened and taunted and almost killed them with rocks larger than their heads.
Mayhaps if Luke had done that, his death would have meant something. Mayhaps it would have secured her mother's throne when his grandsire was still hale enough in health to condemn the would-be usurpers. Instead, all he can think of as he and Arrax cling onto each other, trying to be as discreet as they can, is that he will have died and given his mother - his queen - naught but a heavier heart and left bereft of another child.
The fog is blinding them as badly as the rain. Luke can scarce breathe, let alone see. His lungs are burning despite all the air he seems to be sucking in. His heart matches Arrax's frantic wings beat for beat.
Arrax tails forward, flying steady against the wind throwing him back. Vhagar's maw seems to appear from thin air as Luke forces his mount into a violent duck, the top of his head inches away from her claw. Her wings send harsh gusts of wind against them again, tossing them towards the crags with urgency. Luke only tightens his grip onto the saddle, his wet palms fighting to steer Arrax away. He hardly manages to get the drake to stick out a leg and bounce off the rocky cliff, urging him on desperately with High Valyrian words that he can barely manage to scramble to get together. Vhagar's bulk stays on their right, but her eyes remain bound to the eastern seas, intent on finding her quarry.
The laughs and insults still reach his ears somehow.
Luke needs to hide. Arrax cannot win. Not in the face of such a monstrosity. Arrax's body is still seems taut with fear however, flailing erratically as if matching Luke's own fear and panic. He tries to swallow it down like a man grown, but the large wings enter his vision again and his fear wins out.
Almost on instinct, Arrax lets out a gout of flame upon Vhagar's drooping neck, far from where Aemond is even saddled. It's pitiful and hardly seems to even daze her, yet her golden eyes light up with a fury as bright as a thousand suns.
There is only one thing in her eyes now.
Bloodlust.
Arrax is hardly listening to him, it seems. Or rather, he is listening to their bond, something deeper and truer than even the fiercest High Valyrian command.
Vhagar's form tails them frantically now. Like a mouse being chased, Arrax flees with all the strength he can summon, leaving Luke to scream out words that he himself isn't registering.
Calm down!
Luke has had his mother tell him about it so many times. Dragons read their riders far better than they take verbal commands. It comes so naturally to Jace, even more so for Baela. Yet now, Luke cannot afford to be anything but their equal. His mind tries to clear itself of all distractions, of all emotions and all its fears. When fear threatens to rear its ugly head once more, he clamps down on it with force, clamps down on Arrax's frightened escape. The rain continues to pelt at him without pause but Luke keeps his eyes open, focusing on getting out of the storm.
On getting out alive.
There is little resistance from Arrax now. The he-dragon obediently flies upwards, silent as the harsh gusts of wind threaten to drag them into the roaring sea. Far back, Aemond is yelling, not confident in his pursuit but almost panicked it seems. Luke forces himself to focus ahead. His grip only tightens. They're so close . The white wisps that edge ever nearer seem like the Seven themselves come down to bless him. Luke thinks he would cry out of relief if he were not so scared to draw needless attention to himself. Instead, he guides Arrax ever upward, relishing in the pure burst of air that greets them as they crash above the clouds, the golden sun fighting against the cold air from so high up.
We will not fall, he thinks so happily, a smile etched into the corners of his lips. We will not fall!
He can already think of all the things he will say - that he will do - the moment his home, Dragonstone, comes into sight. They are still so far away despite the seemingly short distance but Luke has never missed it more. He wants to embrace his mother, for her to kiss him on both cheeks once more just like she had done. For her to hold him as if he were a babe again. He wants to pretend to be a dragon for his little brothers again. He wants to train under Daemon's sharp eye, finally honing the sword skills he has long neglected. He wants to hear Baela's witty comments and see Jace's moonstruck eyes pretending not to stare at her. He wants to mourn his baby sister, Visenya, and his grandsire, Viserys, both not even a full week dead yet forcibly forgotten because of the vile perfidy of the Greens.
He wants to kiss Rhaena on the lips and become the Lord of Driftmark with her ruling at his side.
Then the crisp air turns sickly hot and acrid as a maw that seems almost endless opens up before them, jagged teeth coloured a lurid yellow and reeking of charred meat. Luke barely manages to swerve.
Arrax's wing barely misses Vhagar's jaw but Luke left arm seems snap off with little resistance. Flesh, sinew and bone from his left up to his bicep are all shorn off like wilting petals from a steadfast stem, so swiftly and so suddenly that for a moment, Lucerys does not even realise he has lost his arm.
Then the pain kicks in, as powerful as the dragon his grandsire, Viserys, once rode. As one, he and Arrax let out sharp screams, his steed feeling the sharp, bitter pain and loss of his rider. Luke's right hand can barely hold onto his saddle. The red blood mixes with the still slick rain water that clings to them, loosening his grip. Above, he can hear Aemond cursing, but Luke does not even want to hear.
His head pulls itself towards the handle, teeth gripping the leftmost handle tight while his right tightens its grasp on the right. His head is spinning uncontrollably. Beneath him, Arrax squirms and coils, barely under his control anymore, and twists upwards, dauntlessly pursued by the largest dragon in the world. Luke tries to force his thoughts away again - to brave the fear of death once more , but all he can think about is the pain that gnaws at him, squeezing out a torrent of tears and snot down his face, tainted by his blood.
Lucerys wants his mother.
He wants her so badly.
He should have listened to his instincts when Jace had first stated his intentions. He should never have left without someone else. Luke is barely four-and-ten, and hardly a warrior or a diplomat. His mother said it best herself.
Luke is just a boy.
Vhagar's pursuit doesn't end as the smell of blood entices her forward. Aemond is still yelling above but she does not seem to listen to him. Instead, Vhagar's jaw opens once more, its heat almost pulling them in again like a whirlpool. It takes all of Luke's strength to not slip off. Panicked, Arrax's body turns back suddenly, clumsily spinning around her long neck as he continues to evade her. His momentum is good enough to spur them backward, but Vhagar is relentless in her pursuit. Her neck turns to crane and to snap them out of existence.
Luke can hardly even think now. All he does - all he can do - is cling. Cling onto Arrax, the dragon that had hatched while he was still in the cradle, and hope that the Gods will be kinder to him than it has been to his family.
Aemond's saddle comes into his line of sight as Arrax moves on his own, even now so taunting. Lucerys thinks he can still see the blue sapphire gazing at him even now. He wonders when they even got so close. Time seems so slow yet his eyes can barely stay open anymore. All he can do is trust Arrax. Aemond's eye stares down at him as they approach, hard but still angry. Whether it is at Vhagar or at Luke, he cannot tell. All Luke can do is meet his gaze weakly before he closes his eyes, preparing for his demise. He will not die with a traitor's face etched into his mind.
The hot heat of Vhagar's mouth returns upon them again, and all Luke can now think of as he fights off the cold, the pain, and the fear is one word.
Dracarys.
A/N: House of the Dragon's second half was underwhelming and Luke's accidental death is one of the reasons why. So, gonna write this on impulse. Will follow the show but I will include some book elements in it, mostly in regards to characterisation since that is quite frankly all over the place in the show. Expect it to be a bit more pro-black, though I do intend to actually flesh out the Greens and give some of them (*cough* Alicent *cough*) more agency. It will be fun indeed, mates.