Chapter Text
Luke is terrified, he sees Aemond holding Jace down, stone in his hand, and acts.
There are no thoughts, no hesitation, just a morbid determination.
Protect what's yours, Ser Harwin's words echo in his head. Look after your brothers.
He is looking after his brother, Luke thinks as he grabs the knife.
He is protecting Jace, he states as he scrambles to stand up.
He's defending what's his, and with this he strikes.
The pain is immediate, scorching, Luke dropping the knife to reach for his own left eye, blood soaking through his fingers.
He hears Aemond scream in the distance and mirrors him with a cry of his own.
What's happening? He wonders in desperation. How could it happen? Who attacked him?
The blood pours and pours and Luke can hear girls calling for the maester, as Jace crotches in front of him, face pale and terrified.
"Let me see," he demands, but his younger brother shakes his head, the motion giving the pain a new wave, a different angle.
"Luke, let me look at you!"
"Hurts," he croaks. "Hurts so much."
He doesn't remember much after that.
Only voices, coming like waves, loud and crushing.
"How could it happen, Aegon, there were you?!"
"Jace, that happened?" it sounds like mother's voice, shaken with worry and fear.
"I don't know," his brother mumbles, disoriented and terrified. "We were fighting, Aemond was holding me down and ready to hit me with some rock, but then Luke came in with a knife...Next I know of, both of them are screaming and Luke's face is like that...I don't understand that happened." He admits.
"Are you telling me your brother is the reason Aemond is mutilated?" a voice pierces the air and it sounds to be the queen's.
"Luke is no better than him," her mother defends. "They have the same injuries, as if mirrored. Your son is no more hurt than mine is," he feels his mother's hand on his cheek, and it hurts, even though it's the right cheek, a healthy one.
Something is being brought to his lips and he makes a smallest of sips; it tastes bitter, but the pain subsides.
"How is it possible?" the queen again. "There's no way for them to get the exact same injuries."
"There is a way," a new voice, louder and more commanding, cuts in. The grandsire, the King.
"The boys are connected by the ways of old Valyria; their souls are tied together in a knot. One's pain is the pain of the other."
He can hear his mother gasp.
"But father, there wasn't a case like this in over a century," she mentions.
"It only makes this more precious," Luke feels a calloused but gentle hand ruffle his unruly hair. "It proves they're Targaryen, the blood of the dragons and old Valyria itself. It's a union to celebrate."
"To celebrate?!" the queen hisses. "Your son was violently mutilated and you want to celebrate it?! You should be punishing the one's at fault!"
"I can't give the boy an eye back, Alicent," the king speaks. "And my grandson has suffered the same fate he inflicted; I consider any debt he might have owed your boy to be paid in full."
"You may not yet understand what happened," he continues. "But you will with time. It's just the beginning of their bond, and every harm come either way will reflect the other as well," there is a warning in his words: harm the Velaryon prince and your own child will suffer. The queen seems to grasp it, as she gasps, horrified, the understanding finally dawning on her.
"By the Crone," she whispers. "How can we undo this?"
"We can't," mother says, voice solemn and final. "It's in their blood. The only way for bond to disperse is their death."
"Their as in-?"
"Neither of them can outlive the other," Princess Rhaenyra's words have the grave finality in them."If one dies, the other will follow immediately."
Luke can't help but think it's for the best.
No, really.
Despite the pain and half-blindness, loss of the perception of the surroundings, despite the ugly scar crossing left half of his face, eye sewn down; he can't help and think about how it will unite the family.
He couldn't miss the way they were drifting apart with every waking moment, Aegon growing distant, refusing to play with them.
And the entire encounter with Aemond, as it went the way it did, would they react that way just a year ago?
Lucerys doubts so.
Something is changing and it's not changing for the best.
Luke hopes him and Aemond being sewn skin-tight will force the family to reconcile, if begrudgingly.
He hears Jace before he sees him, blind eye facing the door.
It's fascinating the way his hearing came out in a new force, catching him where sight fails now.
Sometimes he just sits there with eyes closed and listens; the Castle is so loud, so full of life.
How could he not notice it before; was he too busy looking to hear?
"How are you?" Jace asks unceremoniously.
He doesn't have to tiptoe around his brother; being raised together from their birth, they're comfortable in each other's company like no other people are.
Even after the incident, as everyone carefully calls it now, Luke can still feel his brother coming from far away, his steps unmistakable, the way he breaths, the way he moves - familiar like his own.
"Could be better," Luke muses. He tried to read today, but words seemed to elude him, washing all around the page. "But also could be worse. It doesn't hurt as much as it did before, but I still have hard time grasping the distance between things."
"Give it some time," Jace says as he squeezes Luke's knee in reassurance. "It'll come to you."
"I hope so," the young prince breathes. "How is Aemond?"
Jace shrugs.
"How would I know?" and seeing the question in a single eye, he adds. "I didn't ask. Mother says you're healing at the same time, so if you're better, then so is he. I can ask around, if you're worried," he adds after a pause.
"I'm not worried," he denies although in truth he is. "It's just...Do you think he gets visitors?"
Jace shrugs again."I'm sure the queen visits, maybe Aegon and Helaena too."
"What about mother?"
"What about her?"
"Doesn't she visit uncle?" Luke inquires.
"Why would she?"
"He was hurt, by me; and he's tied, to me," the boy explains, irritation raising from the depths. "It's obvious we are meant to spend our lives together, wouldn't it be wise to try to get along?"
Jace purses his lips.
"He stole a dragon," he reminds Luke.
"You can't steal a dragon!"
"He was going to kill me; if not for you, he would."
"But he didn't," Lucerys insists. "Instead I hurt him, and myself in a the process; only to reveal soul deep connection revered in old Valyria. Isn't it a good sign?"
"A sign for that?" his brother wonders.
"For what we can coexist peacefully, as a family. I believe mother said there is no way for the bond to be broken," he waits for Jace to shake his head in response. "So we really have no other choice but to get along then, right?"
Jacaerys looks at him for what seems to be an eternity.
"You're such a bright and hopeful person," he finally comments. "And I wish you're right, for all of our sakes."
Aemond is trying his best to reach the door the moment it opens with flourish, only his quick reflexes preventing him from getting a door in the face.
That would be a travesty, skin on its left side soft and sensitive where the scar lays, healing slowly.
The door reveals prince Jacaerys, standing there in all his glory, as if he's a welcome guest, as if Aemond was waiting for him to come.
"What do you need?" he asks rather harshly, the pain in the lost eye leaving no place for courtesy.
"Good morrow to you too," Jace smiles, unbothered. It burns something inside Aemond, how he ended up being mutulated beyond recognition and the eldest one of Rhaenyra just flaunts around the castle, not even scratched.
Then he remembers Lucerys, the younger boy rolling around in the sand, howling, hands clutched to his face, red with blood.
This memory brings him some satisfaction.
Until it doesn't.
Lucerys is his intended, his soul-bound, the connection sacred in Old Valyria.
The secret thread that unites two souls into one, and his thread leads to - what, a bastard?
Aemond understands it could be worse, it could be Jacaerys he was tied to, but the though gives him very little comfort.
"Luke is worried about you," the bastard speaks as if he can hear the other boy's thoughts. Aemond scoffs.
"He's the one who maimed me," he accuses.
"You were going to kill me!" Jace retorts.
"I wasn't!"
"It sure looked that way," the boy huffs in indignation. "And anyway, Luke got hurt too. You can't actually say you have it worse, your injuries are literally the same."
"Is it supposed to make me feel better to know Lucerys is in pain as well?"
"Doesn't it?" and it's unfair how perceptive the bastard boys are, how easily they can read people, him.
"Even if it does, that's none of your business," he cuts off.
Jacaerys hums.
"You seem to be doing just fine," he comments. "I'll tell Luke."
"Don't tell him anything!" Aemond hisses, angry beyond his own understanding.
Jace smirks. "Who died and made you the king?"
And with that he flaunters away.
Aemond absolutely positive he despises these boys, but there's a special place in every seven hells he keeps just for Lucerys.
And to think they're tied for life now...