Chapter Text
Chapter 23
Jace frowned, trying to ignore all the eyes keenly watching them as Ser Harwin took Prince Daemon off to the side of the yard. There was far too much distance between him and them to be able to hear what was being said but he could tell it was nothing good. Just the rigid set of Ser Harwin’s shoulders was more than enough to tell him something bad had happened.
Prince Daemon’s face went from his usual smirk to downright livid in an instant, and that look alone sent a thrum of pure fear through his heart.
That thrum of fear only got worse as Harwin stormed out of the yard without another word and Daemon turned towards him. The older prince’s full attention zeroed in on him like a dragon sighting a sheep. “Jacaerys!” He called with a stern wave of his hand. “Come!”
Jace felt himself stumble forward. His blunted training sword wobbled in time with the trembling of his hands. When he reached his granduncle he was greeted with a firm hand on his shoulder that turned them both away from prying eyes to face the wall of the courtyard.
“I want you to listen to me closely, grandnephew,” Daemon started. His voice was barely more than a hushed whisper that Jace had to strain to hear. “You are to head straight to your father’s chambers. Do not stop for anyone. Not the Kingsguard, not the citywatch, no one.”
The order certainly didn’t help the anxiety pooling in his gut, but at least it was something he could do easily. Father had taken Luke back to his chambers to rest, and now he was being given an excuse to go find his brother. Whatever had happened couldn’t have involved his brother, at least, otherwise they would have called the entirety of his family back to his Father’s chambers. Instead granduncle Daemon was only sending him away while his grandparents, aunt and cousins were to remain in the training yard.
With a simple nod, he turned and fled through the stone archway. Something behind him crashed to the ground, but he ignored it, setting his mind towards finding his little brother and nothing else.
The walls of the hall blurred past him. While they had only recently moved into the King’s wing, he knew the path back to his brother by heart. It wasn’t hard to wrap his greedy mind around the bits of Luke that resided in his head, to call out to his brother and find his way to him the same way he could call Vermax to listen to him. They shared a bond just like he and his dragon did, after all.
His father’s room was on the other side of the wing from where his uncles and aunt resided, and it was only once he caught sight of the familiar tapestries outside of uncle Aemond’s room that he allowed himself to slow down. The stone halls finally started to take on a shape he remembered.
Yet as he rounded the corner and passed his uncle’s room, he was still focused on his task of getting back to Luke. So focused, in fact, that he failed to notice the hand reaching out to snatch his sleeve until it was already latched onto the fabric.
Laenor huffed as he paced around the foyer, unable to stop himself from staring at the door to his chambers. He adjusted Luke again, glancing down to look at his son who was still safely perched on his hip for just a moment before going back to staring at the door.
Truly he should have put Luke down to sleep as soon as he had gotten back to his chambers, but he couldn’t bring himself to. It wasn’t as if Otto Hightower was about to burst through the doors after them - the man wasn't a warrior after all - but he just couldn’t shake the sinking feeling that his son was about to slip through his grasp. And inevitably whenever Luke got loose, trouble was sure to find him.
Still, Harwin had left quite a bit ago and he hadn’t heard a single sound outside of his door since. No footsteps to signal any guards arriving, no talking to herald his family coming…just silence.
He hated it.
The lack of anything happening only served to put him further on edge. It was no secret that he was a man of action. He craved the heat of battle and being kept stagnant, waiting for something to happen so he could react made his skin crawl. If it weren’t for the sole fact that he had Luke in his arms he would have gladly taken the chance to beat the smirk off of Otto’s face back in that hall.
His blood still sang with that call to action, even though he couldn’t answer it. Months ago he would have. He would’ve left Luke alone in his room or in Rhaenyra’s chambers - like a selfish fool - and gone after a fight without a second thought. And gods help him for the fact that some small part of him still wanted that.
“I’m sorry.”
The soft words caught him off guard. Luke had been silent since they had entered his chambers, merely content to just be held in his arms. “What was that, Luke?”
“You keep trying to cool off,” He whispered nonsensically, “and I keep making you boil but I’m just trying to call Arrax.” One of his hands clutched violently at the seahorse embroidered on the lapel of his tunic. “I don’t understand why he won’t answer…”
Inexplicably the words made his anger from earlier flare up yet again and the driving need to go find Otto and run a sword straight through his belly came racing back along with it. At the same time a knock came at the door, and the anger had him surging towards it and flinging it open before he could think better of it.
Only to find Qarl standing on the other side of it. His hand was up in the air and his eyebrow was raised as if he hadn’t expected the door to be opened so fast. The anger that he felt died just as quickly as it had come on as he stepped aside just enough to let Qarl into the room.
“Qarl?” At least with Qarl in the room he was relieved enough to finally let Luke out of his arms, though he did keep him close by his side while he turned his back to the door. “I thought you were staying in the yard with Jace?”
His lover didn’t get the chance to answer him, because as soon as his mouth opened, Laenor was choking around a gasp as Luke literally disappeared right in front of him. His son was gone, like a puff of smoke, just vanished into thin air. He whirled around to slam the door shut behind him, and then motioned for Qarl to do the same with the one on the other end of the room. “Go guard the other door!”
The other knight did, dashing over and closing the door - carefully, just in case Luke was already trying to go through it - before putting his back against it. Both of their eyes flitted across the room, desperate to catch some glimpse of Luke. There was no way he could have gotten out of the room, he tried to assure himself.
There had only been a split second between him losing his grip on Luke and them closing the doors. Unless his son could walk through walls, he should still be in the room.
“I’ve got him!” Laenor’s head snapped up at the call and sure enough Qarl was holding…well he was holding nothing up in the air, but judging by the blank space between his hands that was just big enough to be Luke; Laenor assumed it was, in fact, his son. The air seemed to shimmer as he stormed over and by time he got to them he could vaguely see hints of the outline of his son’s body.
Not enough for him to truly be able to see Luke, but enough that he could easily guess it was him. He hesitantly put his hands right under Qarl’s and squeezed them around the empty space until he finally felt something solid between his hands, and only once he was sure he had a proper hold on the invisible weight of his son did he gesture for Qarl to let go. It was an incredibly strange feeling to have the weight of something in his hands and yet not be able to see anything.
It almost felt like something out of a dream and if it weren’t for the slow puffs of Luke’s chest rising up and down in his hands, he could have convinced himself this was a dream. But unfortunately for Luke, he knew this wasn’t a dream and he knew what he was holding was a very naughty little boy.
He shifted his hold until he could prop Luke up on his hip and wrap a firm arm around his back. “Now, just where do you think you were going?”
He heard the sound of Luke stuffing his fingers in his mouth and sighed. “Luke, where were you trying to run off to?”
“The hall by the courtyard.” Hearing Luke’s voice muffled from right beside him and not being able to see him was even stranger than holding him and not seeing him. It was like he was talking to a ghost.
“And why were you trying to go to the courtyard?”
“That man is still down there!” Luke huffed, and all at once Laenor could see him again, held safely in his arms. His lips were pulled down around a frown and he looked absolutely incensed. He was angrier than Laenor had ever seen him, that was for certain. It almost looked like he was glowing with rage. “He insulted you, and Arrax should be nearby, I want to make sure he doesn’t say anything mean to you again!”
The words made him pause, his grip relaxing slightly as he parsed through what he just heard. It was just enough for Luke to push his way out of his arms, dropping himself to the ground quiet as a sept mouse, and to take off running out the door.
“No, no! Luke!” Laenor bolted after him, nearly slamming into the door itself with how quickly it opened and closed again, and he could hear Qarl running out after them. He caught sight of the tail end of Luke’s tunic as it disappeared around the edge of the hall, outpacing the two of them by several yards.
When had his son gotten so fast? It wasn’t enough that his magic gave him the ability to hide himself, now he was able to outrun two grown men!
By the time they got to the next corner, Luke was already completely out of sight. There was neither hide nor hair of him, and of course the hall split off in two different directions further down. He could have already turned another corner or he could have made himself disappear entirely. “Qarl, you take the left corridor, I’ll take the right, if you see any guards tell them to be on the lookout for Luke. They probably won’t see him but I’d rather have them looking regardless.”
Qarl nodded, already halfway towards the left hall when he suddenly turned back with wide eyes. “What about Jace? Shouldn’t one of us go get him and bring him along so he isn’t alone?”
The words had Laenor stopping dead in his tracks. “Jace?” Laenor asked, his voice already taking on the strained edge of panic, “What do you mean Jace, he’s down in the training yard with Prince Daemon.”
“I came to check on you, Luke and Jace. Harwin looked like he was about to burn the whole city to ash when I saw him in the yard and Prince Daemon told Jace to come to you, he left barely a moment or two before I did.” A sinking feeling made its way home in his gut. He knew already that Luke had a habit of running off unseen, given that they quite literally just saw him disappear before their very eyes into thin air, but now Jace was capable of disappearing too? Gods help them, they were never going to be able to keep his children safe at this rate.
“Did he not make it to you?”
“No! You think I would have let him leave my side after just finding out Otto fucking Hightower has come back to the city?!”
That sinking feeling increased tenfold, surely there was no way Jace could have slipped away and found trouble in just seconds? Luke attracted trouble like honey attracted flies, but so far Jace had managed to avoid almost all of it.
“Well he has to be around here somewhere! Can he disappear like Luke can?”
Laenor felt like he was about to pass out. “I fucking hope not!” He couldn’t deal with two disappearing children, truly, it would be the death of him. He was barely keeping himself afloat just dealing with the magic he’d seen from Luke before this, now both his sons were galavanting off into trouble at every turn. “I - just take the left hall. We need to find Luke before he goes and tries to find Otto. Wherever Luke is, Jace won’t be far away, they’re probably already back together.”
He hoped they had found each other at least. There was always one thing he could cling onto no matter how much turmoil and uncertainty surrounded them, and that was that Jace would always manage to find his way to Luke.
With that, he turned to sprint down the right hall, trying to focus on his surroundings. He didn’t even know what to look for to try and find Luke. He hadn’t been able to see or hear his son when he had disappeared in the room with him, though he knew he could at least feel where Luke was if he bumped into him.
But all the halls in the Keep were wide enough that he could run right past his son without ever knowing he had gone by. It would be sheer luck for him to somehow bump into Luke.
“It would seem as though your plot has failed.”
Her former accomplice, shrouded in his own gray cloak, turned from his perch by the window. He didn’t bother facing her, they never did when they met like this, not when outright revealing their identities would leave them open should either of them be caught.
She knew who he was. She had known since he approached her that night near the royal sept, but knowing his identity and expecting him to confirm it were two very different things. And she also knew that he hadn’t pegged her own identity just yet. He had tried, of course, both of her accomplices had. But he had failed just as all the others. Her face was shielded more oft than not, and its shield differed from what anyone who might have once known her would remember.
Not that he had ever known her before. The only one who had known her, truly known her, was long gone. Lost to the murky waters of death and far out of her reach. Though not for long.
The hood of his cloak tilted almost imperceptibly towards her. “And what would lead you to believe that?”
“You’ve been made, my friend, and soon enough you will be exposed.” She said; If it wasn’t Lucerys who gave up the game, surely his worthless coward of a father would. The boy wasn’t nearly as bright as she expected him to be, he was barely anything compared to the image she had built in her head, but he still managed to survive if not outright thwart several of her plans.
And here he was yet again foiling another plot against him. Perhaps he wasn’t truly the lame child he portrayed himself to be.
He hummed and stepped back to his perch, watching out the window into the courtyard. Below them, three of the young princes stood having their first sword lesson led by none other than Prince Daemon. The commands from the courtyard were far too muffle to be heard, though she could easily assume what the eldest of the princes was shouting.
Still no answer came from the man, so she took a step closer. His actions held no weight to her, not in the end, but if he intended to change his plans she needed to know. Already her own third attempt to rid the world of Lucerys Velaryon was unraveling and with her first accomplice indisposed due to his own stupidity, she didn’t want the second getting in her way. Not when she was so close. “Are you intending to rectify this misstep?”
“Are you?” The echoed reply came with a scoff as he once again shifted his attention to her, though he never fully turned away from the window. “I had believed our paths diverged after your foolish attempt to kill Lucerys the first time, why does it concern you whether I deal with what you consider a mistake in my own plans.”
The leather of her gloves creaked around her clenched fist. She shouldn’t be surprised at his arrogance, after all, half his hatred for Lucerys was steeped in the fallout from his own hubris. Still, the casual dismissal in his voice made her want to knock his teeth in. “If your plans interfere with mine, I will have no choice but to disrupt them. As I’m sure you can understand, having to do so would be a considerable waste of time and resources on both our accounts.”
“And on the account of our other friend.” She didn’t need to see his face to know that he was rolling his eyes. While the hushed words should have given little away, it spoke volumes to her. He wasn’t aware that their ‘friend’ had already set into motion the end of his own fate.
Conniving as he was, her accomplice had made a grave misstep in his plans and now he lay trapped beneath the boards of the King’s wing. Cold and godless in his failure to achieve their goal.
The death of Lucerys Velaryon.
How he died was no concern to her, after all his death was merely a means to an end and so long as it happened, it would set them down their inevitable path. But the tides were hemming them in with each failed plot, and soon enough they would all run out of options. There were only so many chances they would be given before they too were abandoned and cast aside for someone capable of setting fate into motion. And for her failure wasn’t an option she was willing to entertain when the only thing she ever wanted was riding on her killing that mongrel child.
“All three of us have quite a bit of skin in the game, my friend.”
The man nodded in agreement. “Yes, that much is true. As it is, we still all have the same goal in mind.” He leaned back against the wall, easing a hand into the deep pockets of his robe as he watched the princes spar. A small coin pouch rattled in his hand, and it landed heavily in hers once he threw it to her. “I will stay out of your plans, so long as you stay out of mine.”
Something crashed in the yard beneath them, and he shifted out of view of the window. With one last tip of his head he fled the room. She waited till the sound of his footsteps retreated entirely before she opened the pouch.
To her shock within it was a cut section of bone. Dull and weathered with age, it nonetheless laid heavily in her grasp, brimming with untapped potential.
“What were you thinking?” She hissed as she yanked Daeron along into the room with her, “Wandering about the castle unattended like that, do you know what could have happened to you?”
She didn’t bother stopping to look at him, her feet just carried her back and forth across the line of her lounge. Alicent wasn’t even sure she could stand the sight of him. He had gone out, against her direct orders, and for what? To go visit his siblings when she had expressly told him not to?
He had been nearly to the other side of the King’s Hall when she had spotted him and there was no doubt in her mind that he was only going to continue further. Had she not stopped him in time he would have walked right into the very wing that Rhaenyra and her gaggle of bastards had taken over. The same wing that held the members of House Velaryon, and her now own children. Everyone would have seen him.
Their plans would have been ruined.
Nearly a week of hiding, fretting over every knock at her door, glancing over her shoulder at every turn in case someone had noticed her father and her son within her quarters would have all been for naught. It must have been the Seven’s blessing that she had caught him just in the nick of time and no one had seen her taking him back to her rooms.
It was as if her children were conspiring against her. First Aegon and Aemond had turned against her and refused to see her unless she forced her way into their rooms and waited for them to come in after their lessons, then Helaena had taken to ignoring her summons, and now Daeron had apparently been set against her too.
How it had happened, she didn’t understand. Her youngest had been with her this whole time, he had seen her turmoil, her fear, and yet he still defied her?
“Do you know how many people could have seen you while you were gone?” The skin around her thumb ripped off with a single clack of her teeth, coating her tongue in the metallic tang of blood. It turned her stomach.
All she could think of was how much blood would be spilt by the whole kingdom if her father’s plans failed and Rhaenyra ascended the throne with her sons as her heirs. A single droplet of blood wouldn’t compare to the countless lives that would be trampled beneath Rhaenyra’s feet. Or the lives that would inevitably be lost under the rule of her bastards, and their savage children beyond that.
“Do you know what all could have been lost? I warned you not to leave, to stay by my side and yet even you, my own son, betray my orders!” Her boy said nothing, he just sat and watched her pace back and forth with wide eyes. “All of you betray me! First Aegon, and Aemond, and now you as well!” Her next words caught in her throat. Tears came unbidden to her eyes, followed by the yawning pit of nausea churning in her stomach. “How could you do this to your own Mother?”
When no answer came she surged towards him. She moved to grab his chin, to force him to give her an answer for why he would so flippantly throw all of her sacrifices back in her face like this, when the sound of her chamber door creaking open stopped her before she could reach him.
Once again the anxiety overwhelmed her, only to skyrocket even higher when she turned to find her father staring back at her from the now closed door. Her eyes were immediately drawn to the darkening bruise marring one side of his face and while horror dawned on her at the sight of his injury, it paled in comparison to the moment she noticed what was at his side.
Or rather, who was at his side.
Her head swiveled from the boy on the couch, to the boy by her father’s side half tucked under his cloak, and then back to the one on the couch. It didn’t make sense, if Daeron was by her father’s side having been with him the whole time….who had she brought back to her chambers? How was there two of her youngest son? The boys were nearly identical with white hair just below their chins, purple eyes that shone in the light of the sun peeking in from the windows, they were even the same height!
She took another glance to her father and almost staggered back at the absolutely livid expression he had on his face. The eye that hadn't been shut by swelling bore into her with the coldest look she had ever seen. It was definitely her son by his side, and it was only once she looked back one last time to the boy on the couch that it finally clicked in her mind.
On her couch was Jacaerys Velaryon, somehow with the white hair and purple eyes of Old Valyria. His full cheeks and rounded face finally stood out, entirely different to her own son’s slim face and sharp cheekbones, and now that she knew the truth she couldn’t believe she had mistaken him for her child. He was a mockery of the royal line sitting in the chambers of the Queen as if he belonged there. The boy hadn’t once said anything when she had grabbed him, nor when he was pulled through the halls to her own personal chambers and even now he sat stock still on her lounge.
It must be some dark witchery. Some cruel twisted joke played on her by gods that weren’t her own. That was the only explanation she could find for how both of Rhaenyra’s bastard sons were suddenly turning up with the coveted features of the royal family, of her children.
She almost went to him, to cast away whatever foul demon was standing in front of her masquerading as a prince, but her mind simply refused to let her move. Instead she found it being filled with the strangest sound of crashing waves right before it went blank, utterly unable to comprehend the sight in front of her.