Chapter 10: Newfound Fears

Chapter Text

Being back on the water is strange. He feels he is in an entirely different body, Lucerys having found he doesn't get green sick at sea any longer. At first, Luke doesn't know if his mind has come to acknowledge the ocean saved him from breaking in half, or if it's because he's put to work so hard that he barely has time to be falling with any ailment.

"We made ourselves a good find with this one." Patrice's gruff voice sounds out from below where Lucerys is up on the sails, tying the rope earnestly with his free hand and wiping the sweat beading off his forehead with his slung arm. 

"Sure, but I was just as fine." Argelle jabs back, laughing while pulling up a dropped fishing net, even when he's earned no humor from his captain. Patrice still grates at him for stepping too hard on the deck. 

The sun beats down on him so heavily, Luke is grateful for the nature of the men he travels with, steady with want to be on the sea and travel merrily. Though being on the water day and night, the amount of eagerness for sailing has died down even within their captain, the Myrish fellow steadily thinking of the next pretty lass he can find. Seamus is not far behind, trailing after Patrice who looks as though docking at Pentos will be enough to widen the amount of space between him and the clingy crewmate.

"It will be just like Braavos again. I wonder if the mead here is just as sweet." Seamus talks Leroi's ear off when Patrice has wagged him away, Lucerys watching from up above the way the men interact. The gentle giant still has the ship pigeon inside of his breast pocket, the bird old enough now, but exceptionally spoiled by Leroi who sneaks berries into the pouch for the it. Lucerys grips the sails as he stares, wanting to get his hands on the little creature to send a message to anyone-- to hear word from his family. Only does he stop when Eeyore walks underneath his station, looking up into the sails to stare almost accusingly at Lucerys. He smiles softly, moving to break eye contact first as the strangest of the crew moves into the bunker to sleep, or whatever it is he does in there. 

With the firm grip of a thick rope, Lucerys steps off the mast and glides onto the main deck, Argelle ruffling his mop of hair as he steadies on the ground. All are still careful of his wounds, but Luke knows the gash at the back of his skull has already become a sturdy scar, ever so bumpy whenever he drags his blunt nails across it while he tries to sleep. Quickly, Luke shoots back a clueless smile, walking through to the kitchen where Constance is, preparing the little runts of fish they've caught in the nets along the shore.

"Do they notice how you've differed?" The girl asks, her knife scraping away the iridescent scales, using her tan finger to drag the excess off and continue. 

"No. I don't think." Lucerys breathes out, that unsure response earning a click from the girl's mouth.

"You don't think." She repeats, making Luke shift in his position. 

Constance is still harsh with her training, leaving it up to Lucerys if he can pass as the child who fell into the sea rather than a prince. She leaves no direction, instead giving vague inclinations of what she wants him to do. So with the swivel of her head or the narrowing of her eyes, Lucerys will dive into the sea and swim against the currents even though the tide is high and his dominant arm is still in a makeshift splint. He pulls at the rope and helps with the anchor, sometimes earning small nods of approval from out of his peripheral, but most times not. 

Like now, when he is standing across from Manu who is on the dock of Singer's Wharf, waiting for him to throw the rope so he can tie the ship in place. Lucerys has never done it, though with the encouragement of the crew and a harsh glare from Constance, Luke steps back and with his left arm, hoists his end all the way to where the Dornish boy stands. Manu catches it with a glinting grin, the pats on Lucerys' back making him smile and turn to the girl who has already headed off into the bunks, unimpressed.

He trails after her swiftly, watching in silence as she grabs her satchel, Eeyore grunting out of bed and slipping on his boots to leave, giving Luke one last glare before going. Constance only snickers, fixing the bag over her boney shoulder as she passes by Lucerys, the boy instinctively shadowing her.

"Leave the bloody bird on board-"

"He's got no way to eat if I'm gone-"

"Well, you should've thought about that in the first place instead of carrying the damned thing everywhere," Patrice gets after Leroi, the man reluctantly bringing his large palms into the small pocket, the pigeon fully feathered and plump. 

"You think he'll be able to eat on his own?" The man asks out loud, Patrice already walking off onto the dock while Seamus looks between the two. Argelle just shrugs and turns to go as well, Constance then forced to smile and give Leroi reassurance.

"We'll check in on him during the night," She offers, reaching into her satchel to get something, her slim fingers pulling out a fruit probably meant to shut Lucerys up. Instead, she breaks it in half and lays it by the pigeon's body, the creature waddling to it and pecking. Luke hums softly at the sight.

It is so incredibly hot though, that Lucerys wishes that Constance at least left him half of the apple to quench his thirst. 

"Where are we off to train today?" He groans out, squinting from the brightness of the day, picking up a stray twig from the ground and using it to scratch inside his sling. 

Her face scrunches in disgust for a second before the usual stillness resumes, Constance's eyes set forward and her chin jutted out.

"I am off to watch and learn. Tonight, I plan to work." Luke knows what that is to mean, the pair's brawl in the brothel still fresh on his mind. 

"Is that all you will do?"

"Does that bother you?" Lucerys knows it is one of her questions that have no real right answer, only a means to rattle him. 

So he doesn't answer, the boy thinking it is the best option. But the girl twists around him, sticking close through the heat of the Pentos crowded market, whispering into his ear.

"Look around, little bird, you are in a new place where nobody regards the likes of you," The way she laps at her words makes Lucerys cringe away from her mouth, the mocking tone searing him greatly. 

"You have no room to be judgemental of your own circumstances, boy. If you want to train, take the initiative yourself. Take it away from me." She plucks off of him, Luke looking to Constance as her eyes examine the crowds instead of him. Then they are cutting through the oncoming people, pushing through as the girl leads the way and Luke can only do as he always has. Follow.

"I'll put in an extra iron for that pen," Manu bargains as they approach, the Dornish boy glinting his teeth up at the homely-looking woman. With pink cheeks, she slides the good over without charge, Manu's warm skin practically glowing like wet sand as he turns to the pair triumphantly.

"That is how it is done, children." He gleams, unsurprised at the two's sudden appearance. 

"The only child here is this one," Constance looks to Lucerys, the boy's dark brows furrowing at her comment. She is more irritable with him today, and yet he has no idea as to why. "How about you keep with Manu? Leave me be for a night-"

"Manu cannot spar with me, he does not know how to fight- only read-"

"He can teach you the art of persuasion. And reading people as well as books is his forte-"

"No." Lucerys stops in the middle of the trading square, Manu walking onward as to leave them be-- ignoring their squabbling as he spots something else to purchase or swindle about. Luke does not flinch as the girl grabs around his unharmed arm and pulls, the two pulling over to the side of the street where alleys, the vendors staying clear from them. 

"You do as I say, boy-"

"I have a war to go back to." Lucerys cuts her off, her black eyes narrowing as he's cut her off. She lets out a frustrated breath, taking out her coin purse to shove it in his sling where his palm lays, stepping in closer to growl into his ear.

"There is agony everywhere. Deal with your own first-- kill it even-- then you can speak of being a soldier." Constance and Luke stare at each other for a bit before she turns to leave, taking off into the heart of Pentos. All he can do is turn around and clench hard onto the purse, the coins digging into his slim fingers.

He takes his time finding Manu, the elder bargaining the price on a bag of foreign fruits, practically swindling the old man who is clearly humored and charmed by the wit of the Dornish lad. Lucerys can only watch, feeling agitated at the fact that he could be battling on the docks or wrestling in the privacy of the alleys with Constance. His uncle sits on the throne while he has the option of either waiting in brothels or fruit stands.

"Here, here, take. For you and your skinny friend." The man accepts defeat, dismissing the two so that the queue of people behind them can get their own orders in.

Manu silently hands Lucerys a fruit, the boy watching how the elder breaks his own and copying, delving into the squishy meat of it. He smacks his lips as they walk on, bare feet on hot cobble, brows tucked as there is more tartness to the taste than sweetness.

"You do not think my techniques are worth paying mind to." Manu comments, Lucerys quiet as he continues to eat. He hasn't really enjoyed being around the other as of late. There are still certain morals and standards Lucerys can only hold onto, and he doesn't understand the thought Manu put into interfering with his own family affairs. 

"I think your techniques are desperate," Luke admits, reaching into the bag again, yet Manu holds it out of reach. His eyes are dark as they look down at Lucerys, the younger instinctively pulling his arm back and swallowing the dryness out of his throat.

"There is always desperation when trying to survive. You are just accustomed to free living." Lucerys does not say anything back, Manu and he walking in the hot crowds and blistering heat for a few moments in silence, listening to the back-and-forth chatter of people badgering for lowered prices and fair trades. Manu lets the bag of fruit fall between them again, allowing Luke to take another.

"I've never been blessed with the idea of the life you hold for me. There are prices I've paid and debts I owe," Luke speaks with his mouth full as they look down at a table of spices and herbs, Manu humming back in acknowledgment.

"There are no such things as payments or getting even in war, Lucerys," At first, Luke believes this is Manu's way of telling him to kill his identity. If this is finally the part where Lucerys comes clean to admit he does not yet know how to abandon something that haunts him every night; never leaving him without a reminder of who he is or what waits for him. But Manu holds up a dry, black pouch, looking beyond it at Luke with a small smile.

"There is only victory." 

Lucerys pays for the sack of dried squid ink as Manu tells him they will use it to practice his writing in his dominant hand again. They stop by a healing tent where the Dornish boy hangs around a young woman who is a helping hand, carrying around bandages and ointments the same way Lucerys had in Braavos. With his gentle face and encouraging worded sentiments, she puts aside her chores and takes a look at Lucerys' right arm, the sheer smell of it from out of the wrap making them crinkle their noses.

"It is mostly fine, only a bit weak from being out of use and covered. I would recommend having it slung with a fabric. No more splints." Manu promises to be back at nightfall to walk her home, telling Luke on the way out she will surely have more to tell him about the art of medicine. 

While they sit and work on rejuvenating the ink, setting up the pen and parchment from Manu's findings and satchel, Lucerys scratches at the wrinkled skin from his freed-up forearm. It is incredibly skinny and pale compared to his left one, he notes. Manu beckons him to start, definitely trying to distract him from the sad sight.

His letterings still come out shakey and hesitant while Manu reads him paragraphs from his current read to copy, a tale of knights and talking animals making Lucerys steadily focus on following along. It reminds him of the stories Jacaerys used to have his old wet nurse tell to them to aid the boys to sleep. 

"Which inn will we be staying at tonight?" Lucerys asks during their first break, Manu and he finishing up the bag of fruit now only holding peelings or pits. A gaggle of performers twists and juggle in a spot across from them in the square, Manu's eyes on them yet his mouth moves in the attention of the younger boy.

"The cheapest." He replies back lazily, squishing into Luke as another group of people passing by sits on the brick of the well to watch the acts in the square. Their hands are sticky and blackened from the ink, Manu holding the droplets in the underside of an abandoned drinking cap.

"Do you know why she goes to work in the brothels?" Lucerys speaks out suddenly, wanting to distract himself from how uncomfortable the heat and sweat between him and Manu makes him feel. The Dornish male turns to look down at him finally, his mouth hesitant to speak for the first time.

"I believe she looks for someone. That is all I really know of that-"

"How did you figure out who she was? That what she said were lies instead of the truth." Luke continues, his sour mood gone and boredom thoroughly saturated enough to care how deep Manu's curiosity goes. His warm eyes narrow, and all Luke can notice is how the elder boy bares absolutely no resemblance to Jacaerys.

"I've always been interested in people. The little movements they make when they are excited, how their voices shake when they fear," Manu ties the now emptied fruit back shut, the red mesh embedding in his fidgeting fingers.

"And I've always noticed how I cannot relate sometimes to them. The wants and needs. How I believe if we speak the same language, why not directly say how we feel?" Lucerys tries not to stare hard at the other as his eyes go far away, peeking down at his messy penmanship on the parchment in his lap. He feels like the boy Constance always reminds him he is as Manu speaks of philosophies.

"But I suppose my difference allows me room to just watch. To always notice and pry into things that others are too busy for and just ignore," Luke makes scratches into the white of the paper with his pen, listening to the soft rambles of the other. It suddenly doesn't feel all that hot outside anymore. 

"I followed her back to the temple one day when she thought nobody on the boat noticed her. For some reason, I just stood there on the steps, waiting." There are cheers for the performers, some people leaving from the comfort of the well ledge to get closer and throw coin in appreciation. It is only the two brunette boys in their own world for that small moment. "With how fierce her face was, I thought she'd kill me. But I suppose it was the first time I read wrong. I always seem to read her so incredibly wrong."

"You love her?" Lucerys asks suddenly, his pen scratching stopping. He remembers the words Constance spoke about the nature of men. He thought about if she did not kill Manu, then what was her instinct towards him? 

"No. I love the idea of her," Manu replies, Luke looking at him with stern eyes and clear confusion. It makes the Dornish lad laugh, getting up to gather their things. Lucerys can only do the same, watching as Manu holds the ink carefully still, seeing him peer down at him gathering the paper and pen to hold against his chest.

"It is the same way I love the idea of you. Your stories envelop and suffocate me every moment I am near you two. It is the greatest book I cannot put down." Manu adds, Lucerys following the elder out of the square, not knowing if being held in such regard is harmful to either of them. If being a concept is better than being a person in a knowledge-hungry boy's eyes.

It is not hard to decipher where Manu is leading him to, the barrels in the walkway of the street and makeshift tables full of lively seamen making Lucerys help scan around for their crew. It only takes a bit of walking to find them, the sun already on the horizon, Constance not to be found until the morning after.

They are too drunk and unwound to truly pay mind to Manu teaching Luke still, holding his wrist steady with his ill arm to fix his writing, sparing them words to ask them if they want any drink or food. Seamus is steadied on his head in the center of the road, the men laughing incredibly at how passersby are paying him as well, mistaking him for another performer and unknowingly funding the group's next round of mead.

"Where has Eeyore gone? He was supposed to be back already from checking up...on that...bloody birdy." Patrice slurs, Leroi blinking slowly as he is slumped lazily in his own chair. Lucerys pretends not to listen as he continues copying the words in the book onto his crumpled papers backside. 

"On the boat, sir? We can go check up on him later, just to give you some peace of mind." Manu speaks up, Argelle draped onto him as he sleeps with his mouth hanging open, a mug clenched in his rough hands still. Patrice only gives a short huff in response, going back to laughing at Seamus making a fool out of himself, Argelle waking up suddenly to continue his own heckling as well. Leroi snores softly beside Luke who dips his pen into the ink again.

The night's street lamps begin to dwindle out as vendors retire to their homes, the hour growing late. Seamus and Argelle hold Leroi up as they hobble to an inn Manu catches the name of, Patrice muttering for them to tell Eeyore to leave that bird to its own devices.

Luke's body feels heavy as they trudge back through the soft dark of Pentos, wanton men and women running in between streets and ducking into hidden alleyway corners to delve into one another. Lucerys rubs the tiredness from his eyes as he notices that Manu plays with the dirty ink cap with his fingers, the pads of them all soiled and dark.

"What if he has taken the bird and the boat? I sense something odd about that man." Luke mutters, a yawn escaping his lips and his blunt nails raking the callused part of his scalp where his scar is. He scratches it to keep awake.

"It would take a lot of other men to help him steal a boat, and Eeyore is no friendly person. Perhaps the safety of the pigeon should be our concern," Manu bites out before letting out his own yawn, the wood of the docks right at their feet. They step around ropes and pesky seagulls thinking they are to get a treat, spotting their small ship among the others bobbing in the water. 

"He's probably fallen asleep on board. Not really keen on spending any earnings, this one." Manu sighs as he pulls the tied part on the harbor to get the ship closer, Lucerys reaching out to level the board out onto the ship's ledge so they can climb on. Slowly do they, peering down into the dark of the wood and quiet of the main deck to see no sign of life. Not even the pigeon's spot where the bundles of abandoned rope are.

"I'll go check in the bunks. Stay here." Manu orders, leaving his satchel bag on Luke's own shoulder to hurry out to the door, disappearing behind it quickly. The boy almost thinks he might have to sit down to wait a bit, but Manu is back out in a matter of seconds, the little bird in his hands and held close to the warmth of his chest, chirping for food.

Eeyore is not on board. And he does not show in the morning when Manu and Lucerys are woken up by the sharp sound of the pigeon sounding off for it to be fed again, fruit flesh scraps flicked its way to peck at.

In the sobering morning, the men groan about how he'll turn up, Patrice holding his head in agony and Argelle hiding from the bright sun by covering his face entirely. They stop at booth vending loaves of bread, sardines, and cheeses, the last of their coins fumbling out of their pockets to shoot out for the odd breakfast choice.

"Good morning," A monotonous voice sounds out from beside Lucerys, the boy turning to look at Constance's freckled face. It is unwavering as she steps forward and buys her own rations, Patrice groaning on about how the kitchen wench never serves them such delicious combinations. She hides her sneer behind their backs, Lucerys doing as Manu does, watching her carefully.

"Drunken fool." Constance grates, giving the woman iron for the meal, pressing a piece of the broken bread into Luke's chest as she walks away. In her quick movements, he can notice the faint iron embedded underneath her fingernails.

He does not pry any longer as she lets him finish his food and spares with him along the shore, Manu feeding the ship pigeon in the shade and making conversation with passersby. The girl of amber complexion does not play games with him any longer, holding him down underwater until Luke can force her off of him, pummeling his face into the sand despite the harsh grain, and even twisting his nearly healed arm when he's left it for the taking.

"Why have you gone and done that?" Lucerys complains, holding himself to his chest and writhing at how strange it feels for it to be still a bit mangled. He can sometimes remember the sharp pain of his shoulder being popped back into place all that time ago.

"We fight to prep you for that war you always cry about. I will not hold back on you, boy." She speaks, the term making Luke spit down into the water angrily. They go at it again, Lucerys being sent into the ground and choking on salt as she sits on his spine. "You have always trained in a castle with people scared to strike a prince. Well, I am no servant, and here you are no royal-"

He lifts himself off the ground with both of his arms, tumbling Constance off of his back and crawling away to face her, a new look inside of her black eyes. Manu calls for them to return back to him, the sun going down and their bellies empty now.

When they return to what should be the same scene of the crew of men rounds in their cheap mead and wine they are instead gathered talking at a table. It makes Lucerys think of them as civil for a split second.

"They say the Triarchy is dissolving at the bottom of the continent. How if we want to reach Dorne safely, we'll have to leave now-"

"And yet nobody is leaving. All are sane to stay in Essos and to keep out of the sight of dragons." Seamus says in between biting his nails, Patrice quieting at the scared speech. Lucerys can only play with the bird as if absentminded, Constance sparing him a glance as they speak of his family's war.

"We cannot leave without Eeyore. He is who watches the sails at night." Leroi adds, running a hand across his bald head nervously. They have been without earnings for so long, that the idea of even looking for a new member to pay with only a promise is unwise.

"The boy can stay awake at night. All he needs to do is keep the ship steady-"

"No, no, no. He barely speaks a lick of the common tongue, what makes you think he can keep my ship upright?" Patrice shows his clear irritation at Constance's suggestion, a wave of silence washing over the group. Luke only fluffs the bird's feathers, catching the way the girl clenches her fists underneath the table.

"I'm young. I can stay up through the night. I don't need any raise in pay, since it'll only be this way until we reach Dorne, no?" Manu begins to work his own way into the conversation, Patrice's crinkling forehead smoothing over at the offer. Even after the matters are done with and they will leave in the morning, Lucerys is still aware of the way Constance grips hard onto her cup and bites down her food without another word, her still face coated with silent anger.

That night she does not leave to work. Constance instead crawls into the small cot beside Lucerys, fanning herself with the parchment coated in his crazed writing, listening to the way Manu tries to emulate the pigeon's cooing. Outside their open window, someone sings for coin down in the alleyway.

"Have you taken after Manu's teachings? Besides... whatever this is?" Her Braavosi accent comes out a bit as she is surely tired, her boney knuckles rubbing at her eyes.

"Yes. He is an excellent mentor," Constance nods, Manu's brown eyes looking between the two, almost encouraging the boy to continue to speak. "Much like yourself," Lucerys adds, her piercing gaze softening for just a second.

When they go to sleep, she combs through Lucerys' curls to help them both to doze off. That night he does not have any bad dreams, waking up sullen and in the empty cot, the pigeon walking around the ground peculiarly. Luke watches it as he hangs off the bed, his mind wandering back to the memories that play behind his eyelids at night. The Red Keep and all the laughter he once shared with his uncles in it. 

When Luke finishes dressing, Manu comes in to grab the bird and walk out with him. Constance is already paying their fee, the trio leaving out into the light of the hot morning day, breaking into the crowd and down to the dock. 

It seems others have the same idea, some crews gathering to untie and sail away, others simply watching as if to convince themselves. Lucerys can only move through the loitering men, bumping into one who stills him upright again, Luke looking up to give a routine smile as thanks-- but it never comes. Manu pulls the boy anyway, not even noticing how it looks as though Lucerys has seen a ghost. 

Only when they lift the anchor and Lucerys is still standing, staring down into the groups chattering away does Constance try to ease him away from the edge, looking at the Dornish boy with slight confusion.

"What's wrong? Have you forgotten something?" Manu nudges him slightly, Luke shaking his head slowly.

"What is it then? Spit it out, you fool." Constance grits, noticing the way Leroi is looking over at them strangely. Manu follows his gaze, narrowing his eyes at who he stares at, a man of dark skin, shaved head, and an aged face crinkling in a farce of a smile.

"Who is that, little lord?" Manu whispers, their words beginning to be lost in the sound of the waves lapping against the ship's wooden body.

Lucerys does not say his name. He does not allow himself to admit it is a ghost he has just seen-- a man who lives in the childish memories that taunt him at night. Lucerys does not dare tell them about the man who cursed him with the Velaryon name he will never live up to.

"Nobody." He whispers instead, turning away from the sight of Laenor's face, convincing himself he is still dreaming.

They do not question him anymore, the boy of one arm climbing the sails and tying the ropes with sweat dripping down his pale face. Lucerys has differed the days from his fall, but Constance notes how greatly Luke contrasts from the child that came to her as an indented pearl. His hair reaches the base of his neck, and he's grown tall enough to reach her own head, the girl wondering which morning she'll wake to him towering over her. Though, one day she wakes to Manu's smug face, looking out into the main deck to see how Lucerys has shed the sling and is holding his arm out to the full warmth of the sun, Argelle certain to help him fold then unfold his forearm repeatedly.

Eventually, she notices how Luke begins to stay out at night with Manu, Patrice never making a comment about how the broken boy sleeps under the shade during his breaks.

After seven days and six nights, they reach the south of Westeros. 

Lucerys feels a bit unnerved. He hasn't felt his usual anxiousness in a while, but from the stories he'd heard Daemon tell about the Rhoynar, and how Luke already knew Manu was teetering on his good graces; the princeling couldn't find his peace of mind as they dropped into the harbor. 

"You wish to stay on the ship?" Constance sticks the knife blade into the cutting board, staring at Lucerys who does not dare repeat himself.

"We will be gone soon after they find vendors willing to send shipments with us-"

"No-"

"I will only be another payment fee when we stay at the inns-"

"No. It's odd. It will only worry the others." She dismisses him, finishing her cutting into the meat of the fish, and placing the chunks in the hot pan immediately. Their only meals can no longer come from the mainland, their funds running dry now.

Patrice goes to his own mentor, leaving the rest to run around the city and stay out of trouble-- Seamus noting that there is none to get into with how empty their pockets are. Lucerys walks with Manu into the alleys, Constance leaving them to play around as she deals with her own business.

They turn into a seller's tent with caged pigeons everywhere, Manu having made the boy write every night an abundance of letters to send home. To address to his mother, or grandsire-- to any of them as Luke's fire burns bright for them. Yet, when they ask the man for any doves that will go that way, a simple asking about Dragonstone, his brown eyes widen and his head shakes. Manu tuts his tongue as they leave, commenting about how cautious the land is of any word concerning that of Targaryens.

When night comes, Luke still cannot feel himself soften as Patrice comes back with news of how they'll be boarding shipment all day tomorrow and then leaving the morning after. How all are too scared to sail, so the dock will be full of crap just for them to lug.

"It's already there, so let's sleep soon and get up before the sun does." Lucerys nods as if he is obedient. 

Manu leaves the boy, following the rest of the crew to an inn where they'll have to squish inside one room, not surprised that the princeling isn't too eager to come along just yet. Lucerys gives the excuse of searching out Constance to tell her about the news, but his bare feet instead have taken him to the dock. Silently, he climbs into the boat and finds the ship pigeon curled on top of the satchel by the girl's bedside, Lucerys staring down at it. He knows such a spoiled thing won't be able to reach Dragonstone.

Quietly, he nudges the bird to the side gently, slowly opening the bag from where it remains on the floor, his eyes adjusting to the dim light inside of the bunk.

He supposes he knows it is him from the way Eeyore's nose had hooked down and the manner of how the hair upon his face dotted across his thin upper lip. Lucerys pulls away from the skinned mask of their old crewmate inside of Constance's bag to stare into the pigeon's innocent beady eyes, wondering what exactly set Manu and himself apart from Eeyore's fate.

The next morning is anything but one, the group seeing the boy already on the dock, putting to work his newly working arm as he hobbles up and down the boat with the wooden boxes. They let Luke sit out for a few minutes as they begin themselves, Constance staring at him as she passes by, his own brown eyes following her without hesitation. He catches them fish as they wait, eating raw bites as Seamus and Argelle sing out old hymns and sailing songs, their bodies slowing down and glistening with sweat. When night comes again, they have a quarter of the cargo to carry, Patrice opting to leave it till the next morning before they set off again, his mouth wide with a yawn.

Constance can only stare at the quiet boy with his legs hanging off the side of the boat, the pigeon cooing in his neck, her hands clenched around her bag as she turns to follow the rest of the crew. Lucerys watches as they go, understanding how grown men would never fret about a child with a tied tongue and broken mind to be anything more than the small animal pecking into his cheek.

In his solitude, Lucerys reads and writes his letters, hiding them underneath his mattress to then stare into the wooden ceiling, tired but unwilling to sleep. So instead, Luke takes to leave into the cool of Dorne's oceanside, resting his chin on the wood as he watches the dark waters, rubbing the hardened scar in the back of his skull. He imagines what sound Aemond's own could make when he tears into his own. He imagines how it is he will do it. When and where it will take place; if it will linger with the thick smell of iron.

A low sigh comes out from him. Lucerys thinks that perhaps he is becoming somebody entirely different than the version of himself before he crashed into the sea.

Suddenly, there's an odd flutter of wind in the air. Luke's entire body feels like the skin is rising, every pore retracting and scrambling to get away from his poor soul. The sails tremble, wide eyes whipping up into the dark of the night as something is around him. He knows there is. It is soundless and sightless, yet Lucerys can smell it.

His nostrils flare at the smell of dragon.

He shrinks into the shadows, Lucerys' head swiveling around to catch just the slightest sight of wings in the air. His breathing hitches in his throat. Luke remembers the way Vhagar looked when he was at Storm's End, her body as big as the castle--enough to blanket the entire sky above the ship--but still, his fear tells reasons that it is her. That atop is Aemond, circling him like a vulture, ready to tear Luke's rotting carcass apart and swallow him whole. Finish him off. Cease his muddled mine from picturing his victorious face empty-socketed and caved in.

But instead, the smallest creak up ahead on the deck makes Lucerys flinch, his attention swallowed and broken by the form of another staring back at him. Brown eyes that ease his nerves and can bind him into laughter by the crinkle of their own. A stern mouth that should be scolding him for being away from home so long sewn shut. And hands which should wield a sword out to the stranger looking back at Jacaerys, frozen at first, then floating out as the elder prince moves closer.

Lucerys cannot say anything as Jace envelops him in a hug, a breath stuttering out of the elder's chest. The boy wonders if he is asleep somewhere inside the boat's bunks. That this is another sort of melancholic dream. Or that perhaps this is heaven, and he had indeed died all that time ago above Shipbreaker Bay.

"Lucerys. Little Lucerys." Jacaerys mutters out, the soft sound of his strained cry making Luke wrap his own arms around him, unaware of how he's grown just as tall as his elder brother.

No-- Lucerys can only focus on how he is supposed to be the blood of Old Valryia, and yet, just the smell of a dragon has his heart hammering in his chest not in joy-- but in fear.