Lucerys' Dream

Someone was there, with him. Someone he knew, but their voice was muffled, as if coming from underwater.

Wake up. The feminine voice blew, as if it was part of the wind, only there was no wind. 

“Mother?” He tried to call, but even though he felt the air leave his throat and his tongue form the words, no sound came out.

Looking around was also fruitless, there was nothing there. The sky was starless, and the moon was nowhere to be seen.

He could feel something around his legs, wrapping itself around him with every step he took. A sensation so dull his legs could only be asleep, but while he had never seen or felt it before, he knew it was the snow that was making it difficult for him to walk.

Wake up. It said again, sultry this time. A flash of laughter and long, braided silver hair crossed his mind. He'd seen that someone on his dreams, a woman so beautiful it reminded him of his mother.

“Who are you ?” He asked, but once again he didn’t hear his voice and his question went unanswered. “Why am I here? Who are-”

A black light shone so brightly in front of him he immediately pressed his eyes together, moving his head away to protect himself from the onslaught.

How was it he could see such a dark light in the middle of this darkness?

It’s too soon, Aegon. Turn around.

He almost planted himself face first on the ground when he heard the name. It had been a long time since he heard it. He used to hear it all the time, but it wasn’t his name, it was his uncle’s name, it was his name, it was… but it wasn’t, it was his uncle’s. It wasn’t his. It wasn’t. Itwasitwasitwasn’titwasn’titwasn’t-

Lucerys.

The light came again, and this time he realized what it was. A fire. A dragon’s fire. He gawked at the sight, and it was as if his father had put his blanket of safety over his shoulder as a calm passed through him. Where there’s a dragon, there was family.

No! No! Stay back!

He was running before he could even think more about it, ignoring the voice’s calls. Maybe it was Jace! Vermax was now able to set fire to a horse, after all! Grandmother said so!

He didn’t stop even when he tripped on the branches, his legs too small for him to jump over them so he had to use his hands to climb over it, and he didn’t stop when he reached a lake – his bare feet sliding on the ice.

He had been here before – had seen it all before, but when? And what was it? 

The images blurred together in his mind, but the branches on the tree beside him seemed bigger, higher than before. He stopped to stare at it, but then shrugged. It was a dream, and Luke knew they didn’t always make sense. He dreamed of a lot of things, mostly good dreams. Dreams so good he didn’t want to wake up, but when he woke, he couldn’t remember what they were about, only the pain, an ache on his chest that he only realized what it was when his mother told him he wouldn’t be seeing his uncles and aunt again for a while. The loss of missing someone.

The trees on the other side of the lake were all on fire now and in spite of the lack of wind, the fire seemed to be catching quickly – the smoke rising above in a dark, gray cloud. The feminine voice on his head seemed to quieten the closer he got.

When he finally touched the other side of the border, he was overwhelmed when all five senses came back to him, as if a wave had just splashed on his face. He could smell the blood, the burning trees. Then he started hearing the painful screams. Screams of anguish, of loss. Of unending terror. His body locked and Luke crashed full force into something huge, his small body falling behind on the dense snow and the first gush of air in this dream hit his face, something warm.

A dragon roared above him, a roar he knew just as he did many things.

He opened one of his eyes, meeting yellow eyes the color of the sunset. The dragon’s snout was shoved close to his chest, his black head much bigger than Luke’s body. One bite and he would be swallowed whole, but Luke wasn’t scared, having this dragon close to him felt good, felt safe just as he did close to his own, Arrax.

A word, a name, passed through his head, but he didn’t know how this dragon could be here right now, in this dream. He’d heard of his death. He was the last dragon to see Old Valyria, he was his grandfather’s dragon. Aegon’s dragon.

With his heart beating on his ears, he formed the word and this time he heard it. “Balerion.”   

The dragon roared again, head pressing against Luke’s chest once again and the boy giggled, forgetting completely about the fear he felt earlier as he rubbed his hands on Balerion’s side and under his chin.

A dragon is not a pup, he remembered someone saying. Luke didn’t know who or why, dragons weren’t pups or humans. Dragons were dragons, a companion for life, creatures made by the gods old Old Valyria to be cherished upon and to help the world of men to survive.

Help the world of men to survive. He didn’t know where the thought came from, but when Balerion rubbed his nose against Lucerys’ again, lifting hi slightly by the chin, he knew the dragon was urging him to get up. He was half buried under the snow and moving was a struggle, but Balerion’s breath helped as he melted the snow a bit, and Luke felt sweat growing on his skin.

Finally managing to get up, Balerion pushed him to the side with his paw, and Lucerys almost flew over to the ground from the brute force of it.

“Oof!” He let out, staggering to keep on his feet to keep standing and Balerion stopped. Luke looked back just enough to scowl at the dragon, his bottom lip jutting out slightly as he always did when he was upset by something. He almost fell!

Balerion snorted and went to shove him again with his snout, but Luke ran towards the ladder thrown around the beast’s waist. If Balerion pushed him again he’d hit the snow once more!

As he got closer, he noticed there were cravings on the wood of one of the shortest steps and the burning trees served as light for him to see while his fingers traced the A.T… V T… R T… and right to the side, he circled an O.B, a B he could barely see or feel because it was mixed up with T, having been craved right over with a violence that made the letter deeper than the others.

Balerion made a clicking noise, head turning to the side as he heard something and his nostrils flared, a puff of smoke coming out of them as if he knew something dangerous was coming. Feeling his breath catch from the sudden fright, Luke began climbing. It was as difficult as he thought it would be, but as he did many times, he trusted his body to know what to do, where to hold. To know which parts of the steps should be avoided. 

Lace the strings around your arms. The voice from before advised, sounding resigned. Luke had just sat on Balerion’s saddle, the world bellow him seeming small despite them still being on the ground.

He did as he was told, remembering the knots his grandfather had taught him and his big brother a moon ago.

Tighter. The voice ordered again.

Lucerys obeyed, heart beating even faster than before and when Balerion began moving, the ground shook underneath them and when the dragon took fly, he was grateful for the knots; he wasn’t able to hold himself up with the wind being so strong and actually was lifted off his seat on the climbing, mouth opening on a scream of excitement.

The black dread snorted and Lucerys was pretty certain the dragon was laughing at him, but he didn’t have the time to get annoyed, it was hard enough to keep holding on.

Balerion spit a bit of fire, lighting the way and Luke saw they reached above the trees and they were on the edge of true winter; the forest was ending and after that there would only be a sea made of white and ice blue.

As they continued flying, he grew more calm. Nothing bad would ever happen to him while he stood above Balerion. 

He looked back, watching the trees burning behind him, the smoke that hit the skies thick and as dark as Balerion’s wings.

Lucerys had dreamed of this before, he was sure of it. 

Just as they were passing the last trees, Balerion violently trembled and when Luke looked down to see what happened, he almost cut his eye off in a spear that was pointing to him, inches away from his face from where it had pierced through Balerion’s body.

“No!” He shouted, terror rapidly consuming him, but the dragon trembled once again, flapping his wings uncoordinatedly before losing his strength. “Balerion, Balerion !” He cried, little hands pressing against the dragon’s wound, but the beast roared in pain. “Daor!”

They were descending fast and as he looked around, eyes already filled with tears, Balerion let out one last blast of fire that hit the line of trees separating the forest from the ice desert and the last thing Lucerys saw was that the ice and snow he had seen from the skies was actually a hoard of winter people.

They crashed onto the lake together, a gush of water trespassing blocks of ice that had been broken by the impact. 

His tears had already dried on his face, but that didn’t stop them from coming as he watched Balerion sink slowly, his yellow eyes glued onto Luke’s, a dreadful acceptance on them – as if the dragon had knew it all along.

Luke had almost went under with him, but the knots he’d made on himself were easy to undo and the voice was screaming at him now, to swim, to hide, to wake up.

Luke couldn’t do either, he’d been trying, he was trying. He wanted to go back, to wake up on his father’s or his mother’s arms. To hug Jace, Baela and Rhaena and hear his Aunt Laena laugh at his uncle Daemon’s battle stories.

Instead, he could do nothing but hold on to one of the ice blocks, teeth chattering as he stared at the border of the lake where the winter people were waiting, watching him passionlessly. 

They were so many, so, so many. 

He looked left, but the lake’s border was filled with them, standing abreast to each other, behind one another, until Luke could only see  their shape and – to the ones closest to him, their legs.

Fear had a tight grip on him as turned his head the other way, finding himself completely surrounded, struggling to keep his head above the water, but they just kept watching him, unmoving. 

He wanted to ask for help, but everything in him was screaming to get away, the same way he had felt when he saw the ugly lizard Jace had kept as a pet.

Don’t leave the water. The voice warned. Stay on the water.

He sobbed, the tip of fingers already turning purple. He was so, so cold. 

“Help me,” He whimpered. “Help me.”

Stay with me, little brother.

It was starting to become difficult to move his fingers and he fumbled with the border of the ice block.

The people watching him began to move, forming a path between them for a man – a man with cold, terrifying and stark blue eyes to step further, a spear alike to the one that killed Balerion on his hands.

The cold that overtook him then wasn’t a cold made by the extreme climate conditions anymore, but by terror – a terror so deep it made it hard for him to breathe.

The man raised his arm, weapon pointing onto Luke’s direction, and threw the spear.

Luke let go of the ice block and sank onto the freezing water with a soundless scream.

“He isn’t breathing.”  Rhaenyra gasped.

“What ?” Laenor asked, his ears picking up on the words but his mind struggled to make sense of them.

“He isn’t breathing!” She shouted. Then she started shaking Luke, trying to rouse him. “Wake up, Lucerys. Wake up, sweet boy, look at me, look at muñna.”

Larnor threw himself over the bed and put his finger underneath Lucerys’ nose, hoping for the gods she was wrong. She wasn’t, Luke really wasn’t breathing. 

His body was moving by its own as he took his son from her arms and quickly laid him in the bed, the boy’s head lolling around in a sickening way. 

His mind was already running through all of the possibilities and he could feel Rhaenyra containing herself to stay strong and not to break down crying. He himself was barely able to find apart from the need to get Luke to breathe. 

“What is wrong?” Rhaenyra’s voice broke mid-sentence. “Laenor, what is wrong with him?” This time she couldn’t keep the worry from showing up, her words coming out choked up.

“I don’t know.” He choked out, tears already beginning to from on his eyes.

Daemon crossed the room in large steps, putting both his hands on Rhaenyra’s shoulders.

“Rhaenyra, go get the Masters. Get all of them.” He told her firmly and Rhaenyra, for all her incessant need to always know what was happening, was quick to comply; running out of the room.

“Laenor.” Daemon turned to him. “He needs to breathe, can you do the compressions?”

“What?” He sniffled, eyes flickering on Lucerys’ face. He looked so peaceful, as if he were sleeping, but his face had a strange tenseness to it.

“The compressions. I’ve seen sailors do it sometimes, but I don’t know how. Do you?”

He looked at his hands, trembling non-stop close to Lucerys’ chest, mouth opening and closing by itself as he tried to think of what to say, of what to do.

“Do you?” Daemon asked again, lilac eyes searching for his own purple ones and Laenor took a deep, trembling breath. Daemon was right, he needed to remain calm now, it wasn’t the time to let emotions get on the way.

Lucerys’ needed to breathe and he needed to breathe now.

“I do.” He nodded and grabbed a hold of his son’s shirt by the collar and pulled it, ripping it open so he could reach Luke’s chest without obstructions.

“You will need to breathe on his mouth when I tell you to.” He said, voice firm in way he didn’t think he was able to achieve at the moment. Daemon nodded.

Putting both his hands above the boy’s chest, he started pressing onto it as he had seen sailors do sometimes when one of the men drowned, but as he counted to ten on his head, he realized there was something missing.

There was no heartbeat coming from Luke.

Putting his ear close to the boy’s heart, Laenor felt as of his world had stopped when he didn’t hear anything. He took Luke’s pulse, thumb pressing against the child’s wrist. Nothing.

He shoved his ear close to Luke’s heart again, feeling as if he had eaten a jar of sand. There was nothing.

“Laenor.” Daemon stood by his side, voice solemn as if he knew. He probably did.

His lover’s hand touched his shoulder, pulling him away from his son, his youngest. His baby. “No ! I’m – I have to –”

“I need to check his airways.” Daemon pushed him roughly to the side and opened Lucerys’ mouth, trying to get a look at the boy’s throat. Laenor watched it all with a mixture of hope and despair that made him feel sick.

Daemon seemed to get to the same conclusion as he did because  he pressed two fingers on Luke’s neck, right where it reached the boy’s shoulder.

“He doesn’t have a pulse.” Daemon whispered and Laenor didn’t think the man could pale, but he did. “How is this possible? He was fine just now.”

He went back to pressing both his hands on Luke’s chest, the boy’s skin unnaturally cold and sobbed, halfway into hysteria. He was fine just now. He was fine, warm, crying, but alive. 

Laenor couldn’t bring himself to look at the boy laying still on the bed.

Luke was so cold, so, so cold.

“Now.” He told Daemon, watching as the man blocked out Luke’s nose with his thumb and index finger and breathed in.

“Again.” He needed to keep trying, he would never forgive himself otherwise. What would he tell Rhaenyra? What would they even tell Jacaerys? His parents? Laena, Rhaena, Baela, Viserys.

Lucerys was loved by so many people, he had his entire life in front of him. 

His boy. His heir. How could he be so cold.

“This way!” He heard Rhaenyra shout and in seconds she was bursting through the door with a group of Masters behind her.

He recognized the man that Rhaenyra always went to whenever their boys got sick ; Master Geradys. The old man came to the other side of the bed and checked upon Luke. “How long have you been doing this technic?” The man asked him, voice strangely hopeful. 

“Two minutes or so, I believe.” It was Daemon who answered. 

Whatever hope the old man had seemed to go extinguish after that, his face falling. The others also didn’t seem to know what to do after taking Lucerys’ pulse and learning his heart wasn’t beating. 

The men tried to keep the truth of the situation from Rhaenyra, as if she would grow hysteric, but Daemon pulled her to the side to tell her. 

“Tell me what to do.” She asked him, stopping by the other side of the bed. Her face was set into marble, the same determination, the unwillingness to simply accept whatever fate was being forced upon them painted into her expression. 

He stared at his wife, gaining strength from her. Rhaenyra and he may not be made for each other in a romantic sense, but they completed each other. “Breathe on his mouth when I tell you to.”

Grabbing a hold of Luke’s hand, she nodded, and when he told her, she pressed onto Luke’s nose and breathed in.

The King appeared right after, looking the most frail Laenor had ever seen him as he got close to the bed and stared at Lucerys, face set into plain grief. He had fell into a chair not long after that, one hand covering his face.

In all his years at the sea, Laenor had never seen someone last over four minutes without a heartbeat, but it must have been close to that when Laena showed up, eyes puffed out by all her crying. Someone must have told her.

Laenor was exhausted, his face was dripping with sweat, but neither him or Rhaenyra stopped. His hand were so, so very cold it had started to feel like burning.

“Laenor! Your hands!” Laena gasped, pointing at them as she came closer and when he looked down it was to see that his hands had taken to a blue coloring, a thin layer of ice over them.

It was when he lifted his hands and saw where the ice was coming from that he truly began to panic. On Luke’s chest, right where the heart was, a thin layer of ice was spreading over his shoulders and arms in a strange but unique form that he only saw on books; a snowflake. 

The boy’s face had turned into an unnatural blue, his lips and fingertips purple. Laenor had never seen anything like this before, they were on tropical lands, there wasn’t snow anywhere close to where they lived.

Rhaenyra was the one to act this time, picking up Luke’s limp body on her arms and crossing the room in a sprint. She threw herself on the floor, her knees making a painful noise, and scooted closer to the fireplace. 

Laenor was still frozen in place as Daemon began to put more wood into the fire, but once he realized what they were trying to do he ran across the room to help.

“Princess Rhaenyra, I don’t believe this will be of any help.” A Master said, tentatively. Laenor would remember his face later.

“I don’t believe I asked for you opinion on this.” She snapped. “I didn’t see you have any ideas on how to make my son better.”

Then, as a dragon who held to its treasure, she pulled Lucerys closer, her arm almost touching the fire. 

He kneeled beside her, holding on to Luke’s foot – such a small thing on his hand – and struggled not to cry as time passed with no changes. It had been a leap, yes, but for a moment he really believed the fire would help.

He couldn’t believe this was happening, his mind couldn’t quite understand what his eyes were seeing. The tears came and went away at some point, falling silently and he watched unattached as people began to enter and leave the room in quiet steps, already mourning.

It was the first time on his life that he saw his sister crumble as she had. Laena had always been a pillar for him, and he never outgrew the belief that she was as strong as the waves of a violent sea, but he could hear her sobs even from outside of the room.

Rhaenyra had completely shut down, not wanting anyone near her apart from him, and Laenor suspected that had he not been Luke’s father, he wouldn’t be allowed inside neither.

Bit by bit, everyone left them. Daemon pressed his shoulder with a tenderness he didn’t thought the man had, telling he was going to help Viserys to return to his rooms and them Laena and he would check on the children.

Laenor grabbed onto Daemon’s hand, stopping him from leaving and looked up.

“Don’t tell Jacaerys.” He asked. “I’ll tell him.”

Daemon turned his face away, his jaw clenching and unclenching. 

“We won’t. He will know from you, I promise.” Laena said hoarsely. There were tracks dry of tears on her cheeks and there was so much pain in her eyes he had to look away. 

They were finally alone then. Laenor didn’t know how much time had passed, but he was almost asleep when he felt something start to shake from under him and heard gasps for breath. Then a weak, but growing steadily strong, thump started against his hand. He shook himself awake with a start, fingers curling around his son’s ankle. Luke’s pulse was coming back.

“Laenor.” Rhaenyra breathed softly and when he lifted his head – afraid of what he wouldn’t see, hopeful for what he may see – he was met with drowsy purple eyes, a shade he’d only seen on one person.

Luke’s breath was coming out raggedly, each inhalation making his small body shudder violently on his mother’s lap and a small cry left his lips. “Fire.” Luke whispered croakily, a tear falling from each of his eyes. “I’m home.”

Laenor laughed wetly, incredulous and started pawing at Luke’s legs, feeling it shaking under his hands. Another disbelieving laugh left him. 

More tears fell, from the three of them, and Luke tried to bury himself further into his mother’s arms, eyes darting around the room. “I’m scared.” He sobbed.

Rhaenyra curled herself around the child, her shoulders shaking as she held him close and tight and Laenor held on to the boy’s face, meeting Luke’s terrified eyes. The boy’s pupils were almost disappearing by how small they’d become. “You’re alright, you’re here with us.” He stated. “Whatever it is, you have nothing to fear while we’re here, we’ll protect you.” 

“Always.” Rhaenyra promised, mouth coming close to Luke’s ear. “We’re dragons, nothing in the world can stand against us.”

Luke was still shaking, making noises every time he breathed.

“I’m scared.” Lucerys said again. “I saw- I saw-”

“Shhh,” Rhaenyra quietened him. “We’re here now. I’d sooner die than let anything happen to you, sweet boy. Do you understand me?”

Luke turned to stare at her, his smart eyes holding that strange, analytical light to them and then his boy turned to him again, searching for something Laenor didn’t know if he’d find. It seemed that he did, though, because Lucerys nodded, taking one last harsh breath before his heartbeat began to decrease and his body relaxed against his mother’s.

Laenor held on to the boy’s ankle as if it was his lifeline, a haven in the middle of a strong storm. And it was. He didn’t know what he would do, what would happen to him had the boy truly left him and Rhaenyra- it was like Rhaenyra still didn’t believe he was there, talking to them, her eyes flickering to every part of their child’s face as her hands hovered over him.

“Seven hells!” One of the maids who was bringing them water dropped the tray she was holding when she saw Lucerys, the glasses falling onto the floor in scattered pieces as she only managed to hold the jar.

“Get me a blanket!” Rhaenyra asked loudly and when the woman brought one from Lucerys’ bed, Rhaenyra put it above Luke’s trembling body. His shaking was getting better, less violent and taking longer to come and now that his youngest was breathing in front of him, alive and moving, Laenor felt all his stress leaving his body at once and he bent forwards, resting his head above Luke’s knees.

Everything after that was a blur. He paid no mind to the noise around him as people started to reenter the room, nor about the blessings and the praises to the gods the people on the room were shouting. 

Laenor didn’t pay attention to the king, even as the man pressed himself to his side to touch Lucerys’ cheek and chest to feel his heartbeat.

He barely paid attention to Laena and Daemon around them either, their hands patting him on the back and on the shoulder, his sister’s voice choked up as she told him over and over how glad she was for Lucerys to be alright. 

Daemon's questions were answered by Rhaenyra as he couldn’t keep his eyes away from Lucerys’ little face. His cheeks were growing pinker by the minute, his hands returning to their normal pale coloring. Even the ice on his chest had melted, leaving water in its place.

He came back. He thought, his mind repeating these words again and again.

Rhaenyra every now and then kissed Lucerys’ face, pulling their son’s sweaty hair out of his forehead every few seconds. Luke let her fuss over him as he was bound to do, but this time he was holding her back, his eyes darting around the faces in the room, shining brightly every time he recognized someone and they were so preoccupied with Luke being alive, with touching Lucerys’ pulse and feeling its beat, fast and strong as every health child’s was, that none of them noticed the smell of burning or the smoke coming out of his son’s arms until the Lucerys’ sleeve was on fire.

“Lucerys, let it go!” Rhaenyra cried out to no avail. Luke’s small face was hardened into a determined expression, the same one Laenor saw so many times on her face when she was set onto doing something, –  usually something harsh and impulsive that she would come to regret later.

Laenor himself was having a hard time at dealing with what he was seeing, his energy all set into not going into complete hysteria. His heart couldn’t take it anymore, he felt faint, and his breaths were already coming out short.

Luke would be the death of him, he would be the death of them all. 

The boy didn’t seem to care about his family’s sanity, however, and continued holding onto the charcoal, the charcoal he had shoved his hand into the fire to pick and that was still burning by the way they could see the smoke coming out of his fist.

What was worse, Luke didn’t seem to mind. He showed no sign of being hurt at all and none of them could get him to open his hand and let the damn thing go.

They had beaten onto the boy’s sleeve, fearing he’d been harmed on Rhaenyra’s hush to get him closer to the fire, but his forearm as unhurt.

“Lucerys, please, give it to kepa.” He tried, extending a hand and trying to grab him, but the boy stepped away, shaking his head. Laenor couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that he was already standing and showing so much strength after having no heartbeats for hours.

Daemon had tried to force him to open his hand, had even managed to pry two of Luke’s fingers out of the blazing rock before he burned own his hand and let go with a pained grunt. Laena had tried to bribe him with sweets, but Lucerys only opened his mouth for her to put the sweet in and his sister, as weak as ever for his son, obeyed. The King himself had offered his crown for Lucerys to hold, to the horror of the Septons and Masters around him, but not even that was an interesting trade for Luke.

“He’s going to burn through the skin of his hand, he needs to let go.” Was what Master Geradys said and continued saying for the last fifteen minutes. 

“Throw water on his hand.” Laena was trying to say all of her ideas out loud to see if any good ones would appear and Rhaenyra shouted at one of Septons to grab a jar of water. 

Luke watched them like a hawk, hand going behind his back. “Daor!” He shouted, his voice coming back strong along with his stubbornness.

Laenor exchanged glances with his sister, having a quick silent conversation with her while Luke divided his attention between them and his mother, who was holding the water. While Laena distracted him with a few offerings, Laenor grabbed his hand from behind and forced the boy to extend his arm.

Luke started screaming, squirming to get away and Laenor had to grab him by the torso to keep him in place, just barely managing to hold his arm long enough for Daemon to take it and hold it in place so Rhaenyra could come closer in a blur of red cloth. 

What left Lucerys’ mouth when his mother dropped the entire jar of water on the hand he was using to hold the charcoal was a hoarse cry that reassembled a dragon’s roar. “Daor!”

Rhaenyra’ grabbed onto his wrist. “Open your hand.” She ordered, firmly. 

Luke’s small face scrunched up in fury, but he obeyed, his little hand opening and letting the wet charcoal fall, its tiny pieces disintegrating into ashes when it hit the ground.

Laenor let go of him to check on his hand, looking for a gruesome burn or skin falling off. Instead, he passed his fingers through an intact palm, feeling it warm, but no marks were there; his skin was as soft as it had always been.

He let go Lucerys’ wrist for the others to touch and see it for themselves and when his eyes met Rhaenyra’s, he could see the same confusion in hers.

“But it was hot, wasn’t it?” Laena wondered out loud. “Daemon even burned his hand.”

“I’ve heard tales, tales of some Valyrian riders who were more dragons than their peers.” Viserys was watching Luke’s hand with awe, his fingers dragging along the pink palm. “Perhaps we should let him-”

“Let him?” Daemon asked incredulously even before Rhaenyra could show her anger herself – Laenor could see her hands trembling as she held on to the jar of water. “Your days as a ruler must have left you insane, brother, for you to suggest we let a child hold on to burning charcoal.”

“He isn’t hurting himself, Daemon, don’t you see?”

The one second it took for them to get distracted by the fight, was the time Lucerys used to step back into the fireplace and once again shove his hand onto the fire.

“Luke, no!” Rhaenyra shouted, but the boy was already gripping another charcoal, little hands curling onto it. She started to walk towards him, but Luke stepped back – closer into the fire.

Rhaenyra lifted both her hands in surrender and glanced at him, her eyes darting to the side, head tilting slightly.

Oh.

Laenor started to make his way to Lucerys’ other side, mindful of the boy’s eyes darting between him and his mother, always too smart for his own good.

“Luke, it’s alright. It’s alright.” He tried to placate, but the boy was already wary of them, both his little hands curling around the charcoal this time and he turned his body to the side so he could keep both of them in his line of sight. “We just want the charcoal. Father needs it to set fire onto another room, can’t you give it to me?”

Laena, Daemon and Viserys stood close, the ones who weren't family members watching the scene from further into the room, unmoving in fear of making the situation worse.

“There’s more in there.” Lucerys called on his bluff, one hand letting go of the charcoal to point at the fireplace and Laenor wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it, but the fear of seeing a burning mark on the boy’s hand this time around stopped him from it.

“But we need this one in particular, sweet boy.” Rhaenyra tried, taking another step further, causing Luke to step back once more, his back hitting the fireplace’s stone.

They should have listened to Viserys or perhaps they shouldn’t have waited and tried to get Luke to give the charcoal to them. They should have tried many other moves other than circling the boy and cornering him as they did.

Perhaps if they did his son wouldn’t have opened his mouth, shoved the still burning charcoal in and started chewing onto it with his tiny milk teeth.