Lucerys the Menace: Reborn

Chapter 5: Rhaenys Targaryen

As the last notes of laughter from the feast faded, the mourners drifted to a quiet corner of the Red Keep. Lucerys, his youthful face set in a solemn expression, found himself drawn to Princess Rhaenys, who sat alone, an unshakable figure amidst the grief.

Vaemond’s death was a heavy weight on the air, a grim reminder of the brutality lurking behind the glittering façade of court life. Lucerys approached her slowly, sympathy stirring within him.

“Princess Rhaenys,” he began, his voice soft.

She turned to him, her obsidian eyes betraying a depth of sorrow that spoke to him in ways he didn’t fully understand. “Prince Lucerys,” she responded, offering a faint, weary smile. “The Stranger’s hand touches us all. Doesn’t make it any easier, though.”

Her words carried a resignation, a stark awareness of life’s fleeting nature. Lucerys felt it too. He, more than anyone, knew the weight of the future—of the coming war, the Dance of the Dragons, the destruction to follow. He wanted to tell her what he saw, warn her of the horrors yet to come, but the words remained locked inside.

“Vaemond…” Lucerys began, trying to find the right words. “He was reckless, too ambitious.”

Rhaenys chuckled, but it lacked any real humor. “He was,” she said. “But he was family. That loss, deserved as it may have been, still stings.”

Her gaze lingered on him, sharp and searching. “You carry a heavy burden, young prince,” she noted, her voice taking on a quieter tone. “More than a boy your age should.”

Lucerys shifted uncomfortably. His unease, that gnawing feeling of something terrible waiting in the shadows, felt too much for him to share. “It’s… unsettling,” he admitted, his voice betraying his discomfort.

“The court’s a viper’s nest,” Rhaenys said, her voice low. “Full of snakes, all with their own agendas. You’ll need a strong stomach to survive it.”

Lucerys’ jaw tightened, a flicker of defiance sparking in him. He wasn’t a child anymore, not in this world. He had a purpose now. “I know my duty, Princess,” he said, more firmly than he expected.

Rhaenys raised an eyebrow, a brief flicker of surprise passing across her face. “Do you?” she challenged. “Do you truly understand the weight of that name you carry? The legacy it comes with?”

Lucerys met her gaze, unwavering. “I’m a Velaryon,” he said, his voice firm. “I won’t shirk my responsibilities.”

A glimmer of approval passed through Rhaenys’ eyes. “Good,” she said, her voice softening slightly. “But being a Velaryon is more than just a name. It’s about strength, about cunning, and sometimes—” she paused, her gaze sharp, “—it’s about knowing when to keep quiet.”

Lucerys bristled at the criticism. He understood what she meant. “I saw what happened in the throne room,” he replied, his tone sharp. “Vaemond overstepped. He got what he deserved.”

A tense silence followed, heavy in the air. Rhaenys, ever the keen observer, studied him carefully, noting the defiance in his voice—and the sharper understanding that lay beneath it.

A small smile played on her lips. “Defiance is a useful tool,” she said, her voice now more measured. “But carelessly wielded, it’s as deadly as poison.”

Lucerys straightened, unwilling to let her test him so easily. He would not back down. “I understand,” he said firmly. “But silence can be just as dangerous.”

Rhaenys met his gaze with a long, assessing look, before leaning in slightly. “Tell me, Lucerys,” she began, her voice cutting through the tension, “what do you think is the greatest threat to your mother’s claim?”