LOOK WHAT YOU MADE ME DO
( another lucemond × taylor swift lyrics oneshot)
in which lucerys and aemond have a duel, and Luke licks Aemonds scar.
❛ But I got smarter, I got harder in the nick of time. Honey, I rose up from the dead, I do it all the time.❜
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" Impossible."
Aemond whispers mainly to himself as the word falls dead, following with two decapitated bodies that sink onto the floor..
"I didn't want to do that," Lucerys looks up with an expressionless face. Aemond's the only one close enough, halting where he was as the pair of guards were slain in seconds, to see the trace of humour across the boy's eyes. His pride. The coldness in his eyes. "Look what you have me do." He tsks. It needed to be done.
This surely wasn't the Lucerys that Aemond had known all those years ago. Grown, sure. Alive, somehow. But skilled in the art of killing? That boy wasn't skilled in the smaller things let alone anything elegant or deadly. He once had issues holding anything heavy, speaking Valyrian correctly, keeping a serious face without cracking a smile or joke. That boy was nice, kind, seemingly innocent even if his uncle was the only one wiser to see past it.
Wise enough to now know that boy was dead. He died with Arrax. That boy drowned in the sea.
This man before him was skilled in all things elegant and deadly. Cruel, smart, hardened to Valyrian steel himself.
"But now that I have your attention," Luke begins again. Grabbing a sword that wasn't his — how insolent it is to show up to a duel unarmed — from one of the men he so easily killed.
He wipes the metal across the glittering dark fabric of his sleeve. Cleaning it carelessly with such an expensive fabric, an outfit all together no one in the court has ever seen. The material, the drape, the revealing skin. From the racier parts like Dorne perhaps? Somewhere farther? "I'd like to talk in the name of peace."
Peace? "Peace?!" Aemond chuckles darkly as he blinks out of his odd daze.
Unarmed himself, it was his engagement party after all, even in a time of war. One night before a wedding - you would think you'd be granted withsome peace? Instead, he has a whorish dressed reanimated corpse and blood shed on the great hall floor.
"Nothing about any of you Bastards are peaceful." he spits the term and squares his shoulders.
"No man standing in a pool of blood speaks of Peace." Alicent says, rising to her feet from where she sat at the table.
Lucerys looks down at where he stands. Boots already scuffed with blood. "Then I must go home and clean my shoes. I'll make this quick." He steps out of the puddle barring two swords.
Aemond is quick to dodge or tackle, becoming wise with his movement to not just pounce as he wishes to. Not after the flash of gore he just saw. Still stunned but the cogs in his mind work over his desires.
Instead, however, he isn't attacked. He's handed one of the two guardsmen swords and simply … walked past? Disregarded as a whole.
"My mother let you free," Lucerys begins. Ignoring Aemond or the court of eyes on him. "You were bound in chains weren't you?" His eyes dance as he looks at Alicent. "If not a week before today?"
The second eldest boy pounces at that and Lucerys side steps without even having to turn. Eyes turn to look at his — no longer that deep, chocolate brown he's grown accustomed to — but a vibrant green. Jade green. Made and gone with a flash. He doesn't know if anyone else sees but it makes his blood run cold. The tip of a sword presses his adams apple and Alicent yelps at the quick interaction.
"Behave." Lucerys warns cooly before eyes turn back.
Aemond looks to his wife, his soon to be bride, Alys. Wondering if she saw? If she was able to tell? She was a witch, older and wise. Perhaps she would know what-
"Yes!" Alicent says with a panicked gulp. Regaining her confidence but worried glances to her preferred son every so often. "Your mother now sits on the Iron Throne. She laid siege to King's Landing when Harrenhaal was overtaken-"
"And all the Strongs were killed." Lucerys drops his borrowed sword. Voice a sickening octave lower. "I am aware." His boots echo on the hard polished flooring. Making his way over to the largest table to which he stands back in front of before the little 'altercation' with his arrest. "All but you."
Lucerys and Alys match eye contact. Two Strongs, one a bastard, the other another kind as well.
Alys speaks softly but clear. Her voice edged with the wisdom that comes with age. "Im sorry, who are you again?" She stands, too. Warying of her husband's current predicament.
She looks to her husband. Silently wondering if she should intervene herself but he gently shakes his head no.
Lucerys grins finally. "Oh, No need to apologize," He takes a step closer. "Lucerys Velaryon. The dead son of your Queen Rhaenyra, ruler of the seven kingdoms."
"She is not our queen." Aemond says steadily. Leaving the looks from his mother to stay focused on the back of his Nephews skull. "And you are not our prince. The dead do not wear crowns and neither do bastards."
Lucerys doesn't look back. He instead clasps his hands in front of him, twisting the blade in his palm so it reacts to the fire-lit torches and fireplaces scattered across the room. The Great Hall of a Hundred Hearths. Not actually, but famous for its size. Its fire power. They were all surrounded by flames. As Targaryens should be.
"She's quite beautiful, your wife," He feels the cool metal of Aemonds sword presses to the back of his throat. He turns to look up and at the bride to be. Unwavering. "Nice eyes, curly dark hair … such Strong features!" He's amused and the groom isnt. Frankly, no one in the room is besides the 'dead' Prince.
"Stop talking or I'll make you."
Alicent interjects. Nervously picking at the flesh around her nails. "What say you of peace?" Her eyes are sad. Stressed. She's seen many things, she's tired. Arent they all? "Rhaenyra let me go. I still don't know why… has she accepted the offer I purposed?"
Lucerys know's well of this. A plea Alicent made to her former friend when the bloodshed had turned brutal for the Greens. Capital over taken, Haelena's son murdered brutally, all the fire and blood. An offer to split the Realm. For the Reach, Stormlands and Westerlands all to fall to the Greens. Mostly the rest to fall to the Blacks. In the moment Rhaenyra refused.
Jacerys had come back alive, however. Unknowingly to the opposite party thanks to his younger brother. He made it to Westeros in time. Now it was his turn to balance out the game. The tilted stage would be no more..
"No," He says clearly. "My mother has lost alot. We all have. She will not give up the throne, her birthright, and she shouldnt," Turning to face Aemond slowly. Blade now pressed to the front of his throat. "Just because men with their small cocks can't put their egos aside and admit-"
"I will slay you once more!" Aemond roars. Teeth gritted. "Make it final this time!"
"Then do it, Uncle." He says the word like a swear. Something he shouldn't be saying, something Aemond doesn't like hearing on his lips. "Kill me … That is your name after all, right?"
"Aemond-" Its Alicent, or Alys, neither are quite sure. A warning but its too late.
Luke whispers it. "Kinslayer."
A clash of metal as Luke slices up to meet the sword threatening his life. Weapons with worthy opponent's, finally. After all these years.
"I SAID SILENCE!" Aemond screams. He's seeing red, usually boasting on his so-called well level headed mind. Luke is an exception. Luke was taunting personified. Temptation, blood lust, ruin. Every nerve struck and blazing.
His nephew speaks louder to meet him, although not yelling.
"Kill me then!" They hit and switch, a circle of pattern forming. "Why? Are you not Strong enough?" He mocks and their feet move to balance eachother out.
Anyone who is near close enough to intervene, accidentally or personally, has their skin sliced to ribbons and moved away. It becomes prevalent quickly: Lucerys was Aemond's to finish. Or rather, with how it's looking, vice versa, perhaps.
"How does it feel?" Lucerys swings and Aemond ducks gracefully. "To be marked with me not once but twice?! Permanently."
Aemond slices up from his low point and is met with a defensive block. "I hope to return the favour threefold."
Not just his wounded face, but his name. Aemond One Eye. Aemond the Kinslayer. No matter what he did, Lucerys left his mark on him in more ways than imaginable. All the way then and still present to this day. Even in those days, months, years, lacking the middle born Valeryons presence. His impact was written all over him, marked and ruined.
It was a dance of swords. People gasp and others scream, some flee and some stay to watch. A pivotal moment in the war perhaps. Bloodshed or not the audiences always like a show.
Lucerys fights like he was born to kill, and Aemond fights like he already has. Targaryen on Targaryen. How it should of been all those years ago in Storm's End. How the Dance Over Shipbreak Bay should have gone. But Lucerys swore not to fight, a messanger and nothing more.
But times change. People do. Revenge corrupts the mind and karma always somes back around. For worse and for better.
Lucerys had become corrupt and still hadn't known if he, himself liked it. But he's dreamed of this moment for as long as he could remember. Since he picked up a sword all those months ago, since that night.
Aemond close enough to feel that furious body heat radiating off of him. Hotter then all hundred furnances combined. It warmed Lucerys blood to be this close. Taste the victory off the spray of hard-worked and close-encourted sweat.
Muscles ached as arms swung and blades clashed. Quick on his feet. Moving like those water-dancers taught him. Using his larger opponents weight against them, like the Dothraki showed him.
Aemond had yet to learn where all this skin came from. He'd only ever seen Daemon with such talent, to which he carried such envy. This was different. Something that excited him more, maybe because of who it was. Maybe the setting. Lucerys had been too good, too pure for him. He was something violent now, something wild. Like a white mare, perhaps. Something to be tamed. Something to be won and killed.
He didnt expect blood to be drawn with such difficulty. Especially not expecting it to be himself, the first to bleed.
A sword swipes up and the material around his bicep tears. Quick, nothing. Yet everything all at once as he feels just enough air meet him. A paper cut equivalent but with meaning. Three beads of scarlet form. Stunned from those three drops alone. The Strong Bastard made him bleed?
Lucerys crouched at the ready and, as he had been trained to do after first blood, called out: “Do you yield?”
Aemond pounced, and this time he twisted to the right where Luke had been dodging. "You continue to amaze me."
"My talent?" Twisting away to the left.
A scoff. "Your lack of wit!"
Swords flashed like they were lit in fire. Light reflecting off of them like lightening striking. The sounds echo. Their own private thunderstorm.
Lucerys slices again, Aemond dodges. The dance continues. All side stepping and swaying and ducking. Second born princes, dragon born sons. The fiery passion is met here and its a sight to see even if they themselves, can't witness these acts.
The Bastard is wearing hardly any armour, rather none at all. With his chest exposed it makes and easy target and the second the elder gets an opportunity, he ceases it. A slash across the chest, right above the best.
Luke groans and stumbles back for half a second. Glittering and pretty. The brief image of licking the blood off his breast crosses Aemond's mind, for some unknown reason, but it exits as quickly as it enters. Both men radiate with power, or maybe its just tension that fills the room.
A few more gashes there and there. Cuts and scars but nothing fatal or worthy of pause. They're skilled and deadly and quickly.
Lucerys wants to see what he did the last time him and his uncle fought like this. Curious to see his actions turned into proof. "Let me see those pretty eyes of yours-" He glides the focus of his weapon up.
The string of Aemond's eye patch is cut and it falls.
Perhaps its too close to home, it triggers something in him. He becomes feral with violence. His sapphire eye glints in the fire as well so bright Luke could swear it was vivid emotion.
"I dont want to kill you, Uncle!" Lucerys yells as Alicent screams nonsense somewhere beyond them. Probably saying much of the same.
"I want your eye!" Aemond yells and surges forward. He swings, Lucerys jumps high enough at the knees to miss. It meets the handle of his sword however as Luke's mind twirls with ways for this not to end with more bloodshed.
He's killed him in his dreams, he's planned this for years, why does this suddenly feel wrong? Why second guess now?! All those moments pining and waiting for this opportunity. Aemond, the top of his list. He could have his head in seconds!
Ruin, destroy, maim, kill. Revenge is a dish best served cold. No more weakness, finish what you came here to do.
A hand around his narrow waist as he steadies from the jump, loose legged and pulled close. Bodies clash. Fire on fire.
"It'll only take a second—" Aemond grins evilly but his movements are cut short.
Lucerys is finally close enough to see the damage he's done so many ages ago. The skin on his face is red, his scar white. The color of the jewel is a brilliant blue.
The arch of the blade in the air halted. Lucerys, maybe spending too much time with those savage people in Essos, does the first unplanned thing that comes to mind.
He licks Aemond's scar.
Clean across his face. He doesn't know why but its done and nearly every one has seen. A warm tongue against ever-burning flesh. He can taste the metallic twinge of salty sweat clearly now.
Aemond's body freezes and his good eye flashes with multiple volumes of hate. Registering with pain and shock and something else. Mocking him?! Like this?! On his pre-wedding day. How much humiliation must this boy lay upon him-
Its the last thing Aemond remembers before he somehow blacks out.