In his mind, Lucerys had been quick, but it turned out that Aemond was quicker. When his uncle spoke those words, all feelings of grief were replaced by pure fury. Drawing his sword, the boy lunged with a shout at the blonde, who managed to dodge the cut. Luke, however, did not cease to strike more blows in the air than at Aemond, something his uncle seemed to fear even more of. So clumsily, and blinded with tears, the sword swung swiftly through the air and the space Aemond travelled was also instantly traversed by Lucerys. He ignored his uncle's weapons, if he wanted to slash him back with the knife he had thrown to the ground back at Storm's End, go ahead, let him dare to do so.
What he really wanted now was to be back home, back in his mother's arms, with Arrax alive and sleeping somewhere on the beaches of Dragonstone. He wanted to continue his lessons with Jace and talk to Rhaena at night. He wanted to be somewhere else, far away from where he was, moving through the air, riding his dragon, forgetting the thrones and the swords and the papers. At least, while chasing Aemond, Luke's mind was blank, as much as possible, for his vision was completely red, of Arrax's blood. He wasn't even able to remember the clear scales his dragon had had before, and he felt as if he could never remember that beautiful colour again. He screamed and swung his sword, ignoring his supposed target. What happened to Aemond was beginning to matter little to him, for he longed to weep and weep, alone.
When he felt his arm being restrained, Luke didn't even try to break free. He was exhausted, and his heartbreak was too much for him at the moment. Aemond squeezed him tightly, and he used that moment to catch his breath a little. In the meantime, his uncle did nothing against him, loosening his grip little by little, doubtful of Luke's impulses. When he turned to look at him, he saw a tense, almost frightened, or regretful Aemond. He had a hunch that if he had wanted to deliver a sword blow straight to his neck, his uncle would have let himself be decapitated without a fight. But he didn't, he deserved more, he deserved to know what he had provoked and to see him dig his own pit in the ground driven by his shame. He was a Dragonslayer. Aemond, "the dragonslayer, one-eyed" Targaryen. He didn't cut his head off, but he did give him a shove. Clearly it didn't make much of an impact.
"Luke..." Aemond called, trying to snap the boy out of his trance. He didn't succeed, on the contrary, Luke pushed him much harder, this time he actually managed to knock him to the ground. "Lucerys! Stop!"
"No!" He shouted at him. "NO!"
He kicked him between the ribs and his uncle let out a groan of pain. He sat up quickly and managed to grab Luke by the collar of his cloak. Now he was the one who could deliver a blow powerful enough to knock him unconscious, but he didn't do that either. And when Lucerys saw that it didn't happen, he realised it was something he wanted. He had wished for a moment that Aemond would kill him, and the thought brought a cry to him that the poor boy had not yet been able to get out. Because he didn't really want to die, it was his last wish. Before that afternoon he only wanted to make his family happy, his true aspiration had been to be happy, to be at peace with everything around him, with his beloved Arrax.
Now all that seemed far away and with the blood of Arrax on his hands he realised that nothing would ever be the same, that the only thing that mattered was the throne. Driftmark, Arrax, Rhaena, Jace were consequences of the Iron Throne, they were secondary. They and he himself were pieces to be used to sit on it. If he lost, he lost them. Arrax had been the first defeat. How sad his life would be, he realised now. They would all die, and that was not his sorrow. His sorrow was that they would live to fight and bleed to death far from home. And Lucerys only wanted to go back.
He was alone, stained with the blood of the creature who had formed his identity, so faithful and as brave as he had ever been. He had been beautiful and tender, Arrax was a divine creature who had made Lucerys something other than a normal man. And now he would never fly again, never see Vermax. He had gone away in pain and fear, the last day of his life a stormy one.
