Archive of Our Own

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“So, I’m supposed to just be a third wheel all night.”

Lucerys makes a face at his own reflection as he tries and fails for the fourth time to paint a convincing blood stain going from the corner of his mouth to the bottom of his chin. “Hooray! Yippee, even. Just what I wanted to do for Halloween, man. Thanks for this wonderful opportunity, truly.”

Leaning against the doorframe of his room, Jacaerys crosses his arms and sighs. To his defense, he does look sincerely apologetic about it. But Jace is quite good at guilt tripping you into flipping to his side in record time, so Luke bites the inside of his cheeks and lets the apology tour drag along a little longer.

He knows he'll give in eventually but Lucerys has—per tradition—to make his brother feel real bad about it first. Luke might even get exclusive driving rights over Jace’s new Aston Martin for an entire month if he pushes it far enough.

“Luke, c’mon,” Jace starts over, leaning his head onto the doorframe as well, right leg bouncing nervously. “I know we made this plan like a month ago—”

“Two,” Luke interrupts, in his best ‘well, actually’ voice that drives Jacaerys crazy on usual circumstances, placing down the brush smeared with red so he can raise two accusatory fingers up. No peace and love here, pure brotherly bickering. “We planned this two months ago, Jace.”

Jacaerys takes a deep breath and then just nods, tongue pressing against the inside of his cheek before he speaks.

“Right, yes, it was two months ago. Sorry,” Oh, ho. No arguing back? Jace must want this bad. “We planned this ages ago, I’ll even say it like that if you want me to, have my betrayal sound more dramatic.”

“I’ll take it.” Lucerys grants graciously, nodding to his brother before going back to fixing his fake blood drip.

Grabbing one of the makeup wipes on the desk, he rubs furiously over his chin. Red makeup is so annoying to erase.

He should have listened to Rhaena and hired someone to do this for him weeks ago.

Seemed silly at the time, paying to get professional makeup done just to spend the night sweating it all off after running around in a maze. But, back then the idea was based around the fact that the night would only include him, Jace and maybe Joffrey, screaming their lungs out and trying to escape the paid actors wearing scary latex masks. One of said actors being Baela herself.

There would be no need to impress his siblings with water resistant eyeshadow or extra convincing blood splatters.

But now one more person is supposed to be coming and Luke’s filled with the annoying need to put more effort into it and look his best. Yes, yes, he has an inferiority complex mixed with self doubt that he’s currently working on, and that translates into constantly trying to prove himself worthy in situations where nobody is expecting anything from him. Luke knows, he goes to therapy twice a month and tries to communicate to both his grandfather and Rhaenyra whenever the expectations of his future grow too heavy on his shoulders, yada-yada, whatever.

Tonight is not about that. If Luke’s taking anything, it’s certainly not going to be a xanax, but rather a tiny crushed up line up his nose—not to fill the stereotype of rich kids and recreational drugs but, c'mon, it’s Halloween and they are hitting Rhaena’s party after running around in a maze. They might need the extra energy.

The stash is only for special evenings anyway.

Besides, he might not even be able to go at all, since the fake blood isn’t coming out as he pictured it, the stupid fucking red makeup is completely staining his skin and half the hockey team from Winterfell University could be crashing their little family gathering if they see them with their captain, The Wolf of the North himself.

Lucerys takes a deep breath, starting to paint his chin all over again.

At least the bite mark that’s supposed to go on on his neck will be represented with black choker with two red beads attached to it and Luke doesn’t have to paint that too.

And, fine, maybe he’s more interested in not looking like shit since some of those guys are kind of attractive. Perhaps. He’s not confirming nor denying anything. Nothing he thinks about when he has one hand around his dick or two fingers pressing inside himself as he scrolls the team’s instagram late at night can be held against him in court, etcetera.

By far not his guiltiest jerk off session on social media anyway. Thankfully his brother’s boyfriend has never been included on that list—not even before they got together—since he’s not Luke’s type at all.

‘Not related nor silver-haired enough’, Lucerys thinks for a second, guilt and excitement fluttering around his chest before he stomps down on both feelings like he’s putting out an invisible fire.

He’s not thinking about that tonight.

“I’m really sorry, Luke,” Jace keeps tapping the tip of his Jimmy Choo shoes against the marble floor in the usual rhythm he uses when he’s legitimately stressed out about something. Tap, tap-tap-tap, tap-tap. “I had no idea Cregan would even be interested in me when we first decided our Halloween plans. I had no way of knowing he would want to spend tonight together when we first planned this.”

“Boo-hoo,” Lucerys rolls his eyes good naturedly. “Woe is me! Poor clueless Jacaerys Velaryon, trust fund kid with a perfect GPA and over two million followers on instagram that give me thousands of thirsty likes on every single selfie I post. How could little old me know The Nightwatch Wolves’ team captain would want to date me the second I gave him the time of the day?”

Lucerys brings the back of his hand to his forehead and dips himself back on the chair as far as he can without falling from it, raising one leg as he does the best and most ridiculous damsel-in-distress impression he can muster. Jace frowns and bites on his lower lip, trying to hold it in as his face starts to turn bright red.

“Shut up, Luke,” He clears his throat, hiding an irritated smile. “You know that’s not—”

“Oh, no! How could I have possibly known that Cregan Stark would follow me around like a thirsty wolf with cartoon hearts swirling around his head—!”

“Okay, alright, wrap it up already, jerk!” Jace grabs the closest thing he can find, which is a pretty heavy iPad charger—ouch, rude—and throws it at Lucerys, who almost falls from his chair for real as he moves out of the way to dodge it.

They’re both laughing by the time Luke can balance himself enough to sit back up.

“Give me a fucking break with the sob story, Jace,” Lucerys smiles, happy to see the worried expression has now banished from his brother’s face. “Just tell me you want your beefy boyfriend holding your hand when we get scared at the maze and be done with it, for fuck’s sake.”

“Fine, you little shit. I do want Cregan to come!”

Jace snaps with no real heat behind the words. The red creeping along his face is so intense that it has passed his cheekbones and is now making it to Jace’s ears. Fuck, at last. Lucerys makes a face that says ‘Finally, thanks, was it really that hard to spit it out?’.

Jacaerys ignores it anyway in favor of carrying on. It’s like pulling teeth with Luke’s brother, which means he likes this dude for real.

“But, I’ll tell him he can’t come if you really want it to be just the two of us. I know that was our plan initially, I won’t become that fucking guy who brings his boyfriend everywhere even when it’s supposed to be a just us type of thing.”

Lucerys gives himself a couple of seconds to consider it, turning around to look at his reflection in the table mirror he took from Rhaenyra’s bathroom earlier that day. The blood drip has finally come out as he wanted it to and the dark eyeshadow under his eyes that’s supposed to give him the type of eyebags a vampire-nurse would have doesn’t look half bad.

He could say no to Jacaerys and he knows his brother would abide by it. Jace wouldn’t even complain about it and have a genuinely nice night with him.

And yet.

A quick glance towards the door and Jace’s continuous-slash-nervous leg bouncing tells Luke all he needs to know. What he has known all along. Since the very moment his brother walked into his room with big puppy eyes half an hour ago: Jacaerys is dying to spend the night with Cregan Stark.

Luke doesn’t want to be a third wheel for fucking Halloween night—he’s supposed to be one of the main characters from his new favorite horror game, thank you very much—but he might as well make peace with the fact.

“Fiiiine, Cregan can come,” he groans, rolling his eyes and letting his head fall back. Jace’s smile is bright and instant. “But you better remember this next time I want literally anything, and I mean anything, Jace! You’ll even let Arrax piss in your car if I feel like it!”

He gets trapped in a half-hug, half-choke hold from behind, Jace’s arms around him like a python as he squeezes Lucerys until he’s tapping for his brother to let him go, exaggerated and laugh-inducing kisses being pressed to the top of his head. Nice, but inconvenient. Luke just finished doing his hair and the Old Gods know he’s barely getting a hang on how to properly use the Dyson hairdryer the twins gave him for his birthday. This curly hair method thing is still beating his ass.

“Luke, you're the best!” Jace howls like a maniac, all smiles, shaking him around as Lucerys still tries to swat him away, a smile of his own adorning his face. “And I promise you won’t feel like a third wheel at all. Me and Cregan aren’t like that, man.”

They both know that’s not true and he most definitely will feel like a third wheel, but that’s alright. Jace will just have to owe him one.

—

One hour and a fifteen minute Youtube tutorial on how to tie a corset later—‘I told you to google it beforehand, genius’, Rhaena texted him after Luke sent her multiple aggravated emojis when he realized it wasn’t as easy as tying one's shoelaces—Lucerys finally makes his way down the second spiral staircase that takes him to the first floor of their house.

Perhaps the mirror selfies didn’t help his general timing. That and the instagram deep dive, of course.

Luke has a perfect excuse for the first point and only shame for the second.

You can’t dress up as vampire-nurse for Halloween and not take at least a couple thirst-traps—even if they’re only for Luke’s eyes—to look at on days he’s feeling like shit and think “Well, the horrors persist but at least I look pretty good with fangs and blood all over my face.” And the garters that connect the stockings to the white shorts, of course.

He would have added the character-accurate detail of using said garters as thigh holsters for fake daggers, but prop weapons are forbidden at the maze.

Luke ended up cropping his face out of the photos and adding them to his Grindr profile after some thought. They could be for his eyes when feeling like crap and a pretty effective way to get some messages during Halloween. Kill two birds with one stone and whatnot.

That last thought makes Luke wince to himself and feel double the guilt about his instagram deep dive.

He just wanted to check. Lucerys always wants to just check, but sometimes it makes more sense than others.

For the night where people dress up and put it all over social media? It’s pretty excusable, if you ignore the generally inexcusable custom of wanting to climb your own family tree. But he’s part Targaryen, so that detail shouldn’t be that much of a problem.

It does matter when taking into consideration which branch of that tree Luke wants to sit on in particular.

The “wanting what you can’t have” gene he inherited from Rhaenyra really is quite something. Inconvenient, for one. Pathologically insane, to continue. Suicidal, if Lucerys keeps in mind that Aemond would probably want to beat him into a pulp—even more than he already does—if he ever found out that sometimes between their shouting matches Luke wishes he could reach over and punch him in the mouth. And then slowly suck on the bruise that would form right there on his lower lip.

‘It’s normal you have some conflicting sentiments towards Aemond, Luke,’ the family therapist—bless his soul—has said plenty of times while not knowing some of those emotions include wanting to put Aemond’s fingers in his mouth. To bite them off or suck on them? Who the fuck knows. ‘After what the two of you have gone through? The accident, the rupture between your family ever since, the years of animosity between the two of you, all mixed with your desire to genuinely apologize for what happened but stand firm on the position that you won’t let him “walk all over you” over things that have nothing to do with said incident.’

That’s a long-winded way of saying “there’s guilt, but there’s also hate, and perhaps some fucked up form on longing.”

Aemond used to be Luke’s best friend.

How weird it still feels to think about that. More than his uncle, Aemond used to be his best fucking friend. Luke got along better with Aemond when he was seven than he did with anyone else in his family back in the day—even more than Rhaena, who he barely knew at the time since the twins were constantly traveling and moving, as Daemon and Laena loved to do when his aunt was still alive.

It used to feel like he and Aemond had everything in common. Jacaerys was always off doing something with Aegon while and Luke and Aemond—God, who the fuck knows, they simply got along. Lucerys was a loud child, kind of a crybaby, curious about everything and a little bit annoying. Aemond was quiet, way too serious for his age, seemingly knowable about everything thanks to his advanced reading level for a kid who was only twelve and never particularly annoyed at Lucerys’ company.

He even seemed to actually like it, for what Luke can remember.

If he closes his eyes he can picture himself learning how to sound out difficult words when Aemond would read fantasy books out loud for him during sleepovers. There are home videos of Aemond waiting for Lucerys to climb on his back when Luke was four so he could take him upstairs to his room.

When feeling really bold and ready to deal with the embarrassment, Lucerys can even remember giving Aemond the goddamn Valentine’s Day cards he would make during art class at kindergarten when he was like six years old. Full of blue fucking glitter and drawings of them flying on dragons or something along those lines.

And Aemond accepted them. And he was even nice about it.

But then Laena and Laenor’s funeral happened, the fight broke loose that night and Aemond was never nice to him ever again.

Rightfully so, Lucerys supposes, losing an eye—getting it sliced off, to be more accurate—would make anyone bitter, let alone a twelve year old.

And Luke was n only seven, terrified and sorry over what he had done to Aemond when he was upset at his uncle for breaking his nose during the fight, for saying the things he said, for hitting Jace with that rock—fuck. Everything was a mess. All the adults were screaming, there were threats made about Luke deserving to be punished—screeching demands to send him to a juvenile detention facility—, Rhaenyra deciding to cut ties with Alicent soon after and moving out to a new house.

There was never really a chance to make things better.

By the time he and Aemond saw each other again, too many years had passed, the resentment between them had grown and no space for reconciliation was left.

At sixteen, Lucerys still thought there might be a chance to talk to Aemond the night their families met again after nine years. The evening ended with him and Jace fist fighting Aemond and Aegon.

At twenty, Luke is more realistic.

Half of the time he’s not really sure what he even wants from his uncle. The family has been trying to mend things and fix the cracks after Viserys’ passing, but that feels like an impossible feat between him and Aemond, since the two of them always end up at each other’s throats when they are under the same roof.

The Gods know Luke does feels bad for what happened that night more than a decade ago and wishes he could make it better—that he could apologize properly even if it’s obviously too late—but Aemond is such a disagreeable, petulant motherfucker that it’s impossible to even attempt to do so.

It doesn’t seem like he wants Luke's apology or anything to do with him to begin with.

As if they are meant to stay stranded in motion—with nowhere else to go but right there—they're lodged in the uncomfortable space created from hating someone you once cherished.

So, of course, between all the mutual animosity, the longing, the fighting, the missing and the hating, Luke eventually arrived at the last ring of hell that was waiting for him: wanting.

And beyond wanting to fight Aemond, wanting to be his friend again or wanting to shut him up during their arguments, there’s always a part of Lucerys wanting to reach over to touch Aemond—taste him even, if Luke thinks about it for too long. Fucking insane, just sick in the head.

Aemond hates him—hates his entire family, to be more accurate—but particularly hates Luke.

And Lucerys kind of hates him too.

But sometimes he doesn’t.

Sometimes, like tonight, he goes to his insufferable uncle’s instagram account, checks his stories, checks the posts he has been tagged to and then checks Helaena or Daeron’s accounts. Just looking. Wondering if there’s something in particular the insufferable dick might do during Lucerys’ favorite night of the year, if Aemond might even dress up, letting himself imagine what would happen if the incident had never occurred years ago.

Would they still be friends nowadays?

Would Luke be spending tonight with Aemond instead?

It almost feels laughable to think about considering they can’t spend much time together before an argument breaks between them. Yet the seven year old who made glittery cards still imagines, though, that hopeful-kid version of himself embedded somewhere in Luke’s subconscious.

But there’s no trace of his uncle on social media for Halloween. It’s too bad.

Aemond might be the most hateful fuck to walk this earth but goddamn him he’s attractive. Particularly when he’s not opening his mouth to antagonize Luke or his brothers. Once he starts, the appeal starts to wear off real quick.

What Aemond lacks in temper he has clearly been given in good looks.

Most fucked up part of it all? Lucerys—king of making everything more difficult for himself—kind of thinks the scar he gave him makes his uncle more alluring than he has any right to be.

Nauseating, really, that Luke can even consider that about the physical proof of what he did. Anytime he talks about it with Rhaena she ends up singing “that girl is pretty wild now, that girl’s a super freak”, which is pretty fucking humbling. Accurate, but not any less embarrassing.

Not that Luke would do anything with his fucked up little thoughts besides let them roam around his head now and then.

Not like he could do anything.

Aemond hates him and Lucerys kind of hates him too. What is there for him to do from there?

“Finally!” Jacaerys calls out when he sees him coming down the stairs, arms in the air. “Were you actually getting a nursing degree up there or what?”

Jace has some nerve to complain about how long Lucerys took to finish.

After how magnanimous Luke’s being with him tonight? “Shut up, you should be kissing the floor I walk on, loverboy.”

Jace has been waiting for him for maybe twenty minutes or so, even when he started getting ready way after Luke did. Not his fault that Jace’s character doesn’t have such an elaborate costume in-game. He’s supposed to be a werewolf-doctor or whatever. Not that Luke doesn’t know the lore of his favorite game, he’s just a bit annoyed it took Jace less than half an hour to look like he’s professionally cosplaying at a convention.

Between the nurse outfit, getting the red contact lenses in—nightmerish, Luke almost gave up after he nearly scratched out his corneas —, the glued fake fangs and all-bloody makeup, Lucerys must have blown like two and a half hours getting ready.

“No heels?” Joff scoffs jokingly, sitting by the main door with Jace, “I thought you were a real fan of Medical Madness.”

He’s looking way less pale by now, but there’s still an ashy layer on top of Joffrey’s face. It’s to be expected after he spent the day before throwing up his entire digestive system. Figures. Luke has lost count of how many times they have told their brother not to eat at random “food carts” he runs into.

Lucerys can appreciate a good street hotdog after swim practice, but burgers from the trunk of someone’s car parked by the highway? Joff must have a death-by-stomach-bug wish.

Now he, of course, has to stay home instead of tagging along to the maze.

“Fuck off, I’m not running across an open field in heels.” Luke gives him the finger, proudly showing off his running sneakers. “And I know I’m not getting heat about this from the guy who only knows how to play Fifa and Tekken.”

Joff waves his hand in the air dismissively, like all points are invalid.

“Whatever, even with your inaccurate costume, at least you get to go.” Joffrey sighs, suddenly looking exactly like the younger brother that he is as he almost pouts.

While watching Joff tower over Jace as he leans in to try to read the texts he must be sending Cregan—all while Jace tries to push him away—, Luke gets hit with an overwhelming wave of fondness for his little brother once he makes it to their side.

“Ugh, my baby!” He groans in defeat as he lets his brotherly impulses win, squeezing Joff’s face between his hands and pulling him down—because he just had to snatch all of Harwin’s genes for himself and be the only one to inherit his height. “Remember when we used to spend Halloween taking you out for candies around the neighborhood and then watching Beetlejuice? When did you grow up so fast?”

“Luke,” Joff deapans with a half-smile, rolling his eyes but letting Lucerys keep on squeezing his cheeks together and cooing at him like he’s a newborn. “The last time we did that was maybe 4 or 5 years ago? I haven’t gone trick or treating in ages.”

“I knooooow,” Luke laments, shaking Joffrey’s face from one side to the other. “That’s what I mean. Who gave you permission to grow up so fast? You were supposed to stay my baby for everrrr.”

Finally having gotten quite enough of all that, Joffrey pulls Luke’s hands from his face with a laugh, standing at his full weight once more so it’s harder for Lucerys to grab him again.

Honestly, why did Luke—out of all three of them—get the least of Harwin’s size?

“Well, darling, you’re in luck,” Rhaenyra’s voice makes them all stop shoving and reaching for one another at once. “Since you have another three little siblings you can still baby around.”

To turn and find their mother with long black hair instead of her Targaryen-certified silver gives Lucerys whiplash for a second, blinking repeatedly before shaking his head just so.

As a kid, all he ever wanted was to look more like her, like grandfather Viserys, Daemon and all of Rhaenyra’s half siblings. More like Laenor, like the twins. More like any of them and less like himself.

Nowadays, Lucerys isn’t a kid anymore and understands why he doesn’t have to look like them—yet the few moments it takes him to process the wig feel like an eternity before the old uncomfortable feelings settle and Luke lands on a smile.

Black hair also suits Rhaenyra.

He can almost have an easier time spotting the resemblance between himself and his mother this way, although his Rhaenyra has always said Luke looks more like Aemma anyway.

“Nice costumes,” Joff whistles and then smirks. “Is the plan to scandalize the entire neighborhood and make all the other rich moms bitter as fuck? Because if the answer is ‘yes’, I gotta respect the game.”

Their mother laughs, adjusting the long sleeves of her black dress, having no trouble embodying Morticia Adams with the dark hair, red lipstick and the fake roses she’s shoving into a jack-o’lantern shaped bucket. Daemon seems to be having even less of a problem playing Gomez a little too well as he moves some of Rhaenyra’s fake black hair to the side so he can kiss down from the back of her neck to the top of her shoulder.

Lucerys has got to wonder who chose the costumes, because even though he heard Daemon complain for weeks about having to dress up to go trick-or-treating with the kids, he seems to be having quite a lot of fun with it already.

Thank the Gods they’re leaving for the night, Luke has no desire to even get the hint of a whisper of what else his mother and step-father are going to be doing while still dressed up.

Sucks to be Joffrey, though.

“Absolutely not!” Rhaenyra chuckles again, clearly not bothered by Daemon’s attention as he keeps kissing down her arm and all the way to the elbow. “We’re going with the kids to a couple of houses and then meeting with Alicent, Helaena and her kids, so they can all trick ot treat together. As one of the joint family activities that Dr. Mellos keeps on recommending.”

Right. The family therapist.

Not that he’s bad at his job, since it’s pretty incredible that the factions of the family are in speaking terms to begin with, but it must be recognized that the shared grief over Viserys’ passing two years ago was the first step for Rhaenyra and Alicent to start over; they have been slowly rekindling their old friendship ever since.

That and Viseys’ testament, where everyone got their fair share. The problems didn’t start because of money in particular, but it certainly helped dissipate some of the growing resentments around inheritances.

Now, as part of the healing process, they try as best as they can to fix the burnt bridges between Viserys’ two families. It’s not easy, and half the time it’s not even pleasant for many of them, but it’s what Viserys always wanted and his dying wish.

Nobody had the heart to argue with an old man in hospice, not even Daemon.

So for two years there has been therapy, joint activities and the pure hope that nobody gets strangled during them.

To arrange playdates for the kids continues to be the easiest middle ground.

“Why would the neighborhood be scandalized at all?” Daemon asks, full of sarcasm, the twinkle of someone who gets pure enjoyment from watching the world burn shining in his purple eyes as he smiles.

“You know,” Luke snorts a little and then tries to hide a smile behind his hand. “Just because our family has always been big on incest because of our Valyrian traditions doesn’t mean the rest of the city—”

“The rest of the country.” Joff corrects, sounding just as amused.

“—right, right, it doesn’t mean the rest of the country won’t be gasping anytime Daemon kisses your bare shoulder in public.”

“Since apparently you guys are doing method acting to embody those costumes, huh?” Jace's question is directed at Daemon, clearly, but he ignores him in favor of kissing over Rhanyra’s hand instead, one finger at a time, still looking deeply amused.

Yeah, if Lucerys hears a single “cara mia” he’s fucking out of there.

As always, he’s happy for his mom, but Luke has no interest in seeing the opening credits of what could perhaps be the making of another baby. Which is a lovely idea, honestly, as Lucerys has the softest of spots for his little siblings.

He simply wants no part in the preamble.

“People should be well over that,” Raenyra waves one hand in the air, dismissive. “Us Targaryen have been doing it for generations anyway. How many articles have been written in magazines and gossip sites since we eloped?”

Daemons shrugs when Rhaenyra turns to look at him. Lucerys doesn’t think his step-father gives a single shit about what anyone has to say—or write—about their relationship.

“Hundreds, I bet,” Rhaenyra carries on, “It’s been over ten years. Everyone in the country should be done gasping already.”

“It’s one thing to see it online, another to have it happen in front of your door as soon as you open it to hand over some cheap candy.” Jacaerys, helpful as always, gives his mother a pointed look—entertained nonetheless—before he goes back to typing on his phone.

He’s either texting Cregan about being ready for pickup or he’s texting Baela, letting her know they’ll be there soon enough.

“Doesn’t help that you’re happily married to your uncle while they’re miserable with their husbands. That and the fact that you still look great after having six kids.” Joffrey shrugs, “They will be bitter and gasping, mom.”

Rhaenyra—who seems like she doesn’t know if she wants to keep denying their points—opens her mouth to protest, but doesn't get to say whatever she’s planning to, since the next second they are surrounded by a handful of excited kids with long silver hair and Halloween costumes, all three of them running around their legs and proudly showing off their outfits.

Luke is the first one to squat down to their height as they approach, opening his arms so Visenya can happily throw herself in them. He still has absolutely no clue why she wanted to be a roomba for Halloween of all things—it’s extra funny when compared to Viserys going as a dragon and Aegon as a knight—but she loves following the little cleaning machines around the house for some reason, so maybe they should have seen that one coming.

Joffrey did a pretty good job making the costume out of cardboard, paint and duct tape.

“Look at you!” Lucerys coos, making her do a little spin. “I bet you’ll be the best house appliance in the entire neighborhood.”

“Really?” Visenya looks delighted at the possibility.

Fuck, he’s still too young to have kids of his own, but interacting with his three little siblings surely don’t help with the impulses.

“Mom said you’re not coming with us this year,” Aegon pouts at him, arms crossed over his chest. “That’s not fair, Luke!”

“I’m sorry, Egg. We promised Baela months ago we would go see her at this Halloween event she’s part of.”

Not to mention he decided to keep the peace of the evening mostly intact; it’s better that he’s skipping the kids’ night out. His presence would sour the entire thing for Alicent for sure. She never forgave him after the accident—Lucerys doesn’t even blame her, for fuck’s sake, he thinks he hasn’t completely forgiven himself either—so it’s preferable to not push it when real effort to unite their family is being made.

Besides, they did tell Baela they would go see her at the local maze after she volunteered months ago. That’s how the initial plan was put together: the three of them would go see her scare the shit out of everyone in the city.

“But Joff’s not going.” Viserys points out as Jacaerys ruffles his hair—to then let Lucerys brush it back in place behind his ear.

“Joffrey’s sick.” Rhaenyra pats Joff’s face and then kneels by her kids, helping Visenya with her braid since she has made a mess out of it after pretending to dust Jace’s pants with the little tail at the end of it. She is supposed to be a roomba, can’t blame her for dusting. “He wanted to go but now has to stay. That’s why we always have to be careful of what we eat when we’re outside, alright?”

“Can we go?” Viserys tries again.

“It’s not for kids, buddy.” Joffrey then groans theatrically when Aegon pokes him with his fake sword, grabbing onto his side, as if injured.

“It’s really scary so only adults can go,” Jace swoops in. Out of the three of them, when it comes to their younger siblings, Lucerys is the coddler, Joffrey the enabler and Jacaerys the protector. “But I bet we can take you when you’re older.”

The kids don’t seem too convinced with the explanation and excuses, but they get over it pretty quickly when Daemon announces it's time for everyone to go grab their things—so, the bags and pumpkin buckets for the candy—since they’ll be leaving in ten minutes.

Luke hopes they want to keep on trick-or-treating for many years to come so he can tag along next time.

“You know,” Dameon hums, pride suddenly sweeping into his voice as the kids get ready. “I was part of that same Halloween maze when I was Baela’s age and here’s nothing quite as enjoyable as scaring the fuck out of everyone. Can’t wait to hear how many people she terrifies to tears tonight.”

Joffrey groans.

“I can’t believe I’m gonna miss it!”

He waves them goodbye as he drags his feet towards the living room to keep on watching horror movies after everyone leaves.

“Does Alicent know you’re going?”

Luke leans towards Daemon as he speaks, using the few moments he’s away from Rhaenyra as she talks to their kids about the rules for the evening: no running across the streets, no biting and no telling the neighbors the candy they are giving away kind of sucks.

Which, in their defense, they do suck. Luke still remembers from when he was a kid. They are all rich in this area, for fuck’s sake, they can all afford the good stuff.

His step-father slash uncle—what peculiar family they have, truly—only smirks and then winks.

“Not a fucking clue.”

Lucerys has to bite down onto his lower lip to not laugh. “You’re diabolical, Daemon. She’s going to leave as soon as she sees you.”

“Not as fast as she would leave if she saw you, kid.” Daemon snorts and pats Lucerys’ shoulder good-naturedly. Luke can’t do much besides wincing at the thought and then nodding in agreement.

Sometimes they have a hard time deciding who Alicent dislikes the most from their side of the family between him and Daemon.

“Hey, Luke.” Jace suddenly calls out and then points towards the main door with his head. “Cregan’s outfront. Time to go.”

—

To Cregan and Jacaerys’ credit, they aren’t a completely insufferable couple to be around.

They include him into the conversation from the start, no awkward small talk nor lingering feelings that Luke’s an annoying little brother interrupting their solo time. Technically, Cregan is the one interrupting, but Luke doesn’t mind too much.

As far as he’s concerned, Cregan’s pretty chill to be around, if only a little boastful and proud. Nothing too out of the ordinary, it’s almost to be expected when you’re good looking, rich and really talented at sports. Luke knows from Jace’s own words that the guy has humbled himself to get his attention, since his brother is not impressed by money—the Starks are loaded but the Targaryen have fuck you money—and cares more for grades than he does scoreboards.

Big guy had to use more than muscles and cocky smiles to win Jace over, but it wasn’t all that hard either. For all his self-satisfied vanity, Cregan is quite charming. Warm and caring once you get to know the guy behind the jock bravado, according to Jacaerys.

Lucerys is starting to see that, as Cregan makes an honest effort to joke around and keep on talking to him—even more than he’s chatting to Jace—as they’re on their way to the maze by the outsides of the city.

At the same time, Luke can tell that they’re both making an effort to not turn the night into a romantic date for two.

He almost laughs from the back of Cregan’s car—a huge RAM pick up truck, that he apparently drove all the way from the North when he started attending college—, completely amused as he watches Jace go to take Cregan’s hand for the third time, only to change directions at the last second and pretend he’s picking another song from the car’s touch screen or turning on the AC.

Yet it’s not as funny as the face Cregan pulled when Jace greeted him by pressing a quick kiss to his lips instead of the full makeout session the poor guy was probably expecting after seeing the criminally tight pants Jace’s wearing as part of his costume.

The three of them haven’t really hung out after the happy couple became official, so Luke bets Cregan’s on his best behavior tonight to make a good impression with Jacaerys’ family.

Which is sweet, honestly. But also the perfect opportunity to be kind of a little shit about it.

He did agree to be the third wheel to make Jace happy, Luke can at least get some extra fun out of it.

“So, Cregan,” Lucerys’ smiles at him innocently—all dimples, for maximum effect—as the guy looks at him through the rearview mirror. “Jace told me you have played Medical Madness before, yeah?”

“Right, he showed me the game. Got better at it than him pretty fast, too.”

“Hah!” Jace snorts, rolling his eyes. “You fucking wish.”

Luke hums, nodding along. “We had a hard time choosing who would be each character, it all came down to rock, paper, scissors to decide. You think he would have looked better in this than me?”

For all his height and size, it would be easy to compare Cregan to a bear, yet he looks like nothing more than a deer caught in headlights at the moment. Lucerys catches him squeezing the wheel a little tighter as an unsure “ummm” makes it past his lips, keeping his eyes very much ahead as he tries to decide which of the roads from Lucerys’ question leads him to the correct answer.

There is none, that’s the trick.

He either admits to Luke’s face—or his reflection in the rearview mirror, whatever—that Jace would pull his costume better, therefore being kinda rude to the little brother he’s trying to impress and win good graces with. Or he flatters Luke by pretty much saying he looks better in stockings, shorts and a corset than Jace ever would. Which is about ten fucking levels of weird and a disrespectful thing to say to your boyfriend’s brother, while said boyfriend is sitting literally right there.

Cregan opens and closes his mouth, frowning, right leg starting to bounce nervously.

“What, you think I look bad? Or is it the opposite and you think I look better?”

Luke just knows Cregan would rather see Jace in this getup, obviously, but there’s no polite way of admitting it. Not when they barely know each other.

“Well, I—” Cregan licks over his lower lip, bringing one hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in circles as he shoots Jace a ‘what the fuck?’ look. “I mean…I’m sure that, uhh—”

“Fuck,” Luke can barely whisper the curse as he takes in the sight of Cregan’s mortified expression before he breaks down in loud cackles, throwing his head back as Jace turns around to swat him across the knee, hitting him hard. “Shit, I’m joking, sorry dude. Your face!”

“You’re such a dick, Lucerys!” Jace groans, trying to stifle his own little laughs, hitting him again wherever he can reach as Luke recoils from him, still laughing his ass off. “Never saw him so goddamn pale, you’re going to give him an aneurysm.”

“Sorry, sorry!” Luke carries on giggling, holding onto his stomach as the corset makes the laughing fit more difficult. “Don’t worry, if I don’t fall too much tonight and break the costume apart I’ll let Jace borrow it later.”

“Shut up, Luke.”

Jace is facing the front of the car again but he manages to hit Lucerys’ ankle with his hand without even looking.

Cregan, with his soul now back into his body after realizing Luke was only joking, shoots him a conspiratory glance.

“I mean, I wouldn’t complain if you did that. Might even owe you a big one for the favor.”

He shrugs with one shoulder before smirking at Jace, who flushes so fast even the back of his neck looks bright red.

Lucerys wolf-whistles and breaks into another round of laughter as Jace groans and hides his face in his hands. Alright, third wheeling won’t be the worst if he gets to do this for the rest of the evening.

But of course, Luke’s not even close to guessing how his night’s going to turn out.

For starters, once they make it to the farm where the maze is being held, they realize there’s no shot in hell they’ll be able to stick together for all of it. Not because of the amount of people—the place is fairly packed but not annoyingly filled—but because the field it’s huge.

Although Luke and his siblings have been to the King’s Landing Halloween Maze before—which is how Baela ended volunteering to be part of it and Rhaena vowed she was never going again—the organizers need to move locations every other year since more and more people want to assist each October.

The farm they rented this time around has so much open space Luke thinks he'll be able to actually sprint once he’s being chased.

He smiles at the thought, already bouncing on the soles of his feet.

“Good thing we already got tickets,” Jace clicks his tongue as they walk directly to the front entry, the words ‘Dark Harvest Haunted Maze’ shining in blinking lights above the main booth. There must be at least twenty to thirty folks lined up to buy their entries. “Baela helped me get one for Cregan.”

Sectioned by stations, the place is divided into three options to explore: the corn maze, a barn and a cordoned off part of the forest behind the barn. There are paid actors and volunteers dressed up in all three stations and people can get scared and chased by them at any point. Not to mention in-between, so they could randomly get chased and scared while going from the corn maze to the barn, and so on.

“—our actors will not purposefully touch you so please do not purposefully touch our actors,” the woman checking their tickers gives them a quick rundown that Lucerys nods to without paying much attention; he’s been there before and knows all the rules. “Do not use any devices to illuminate your way around the maze, no food or drinks are allowed in the premises, your costumes cannot include fake weapons…”

Getting to the tip of his toes, Luke keeps on taking peeks past the booth. There’s fake fog everywhere and he can already hear people screaming, shrieking and laughing. Anticipation swirls in his belly, heart starting to pound at the prospect of the paid actors in terrifying costumes scaring the fuck out of him that night.

“You really like this, huh?” Cregan shoves Luke’s shoulder amicably once their tickets are stamped and they’re allowed into the farm.

“People look at kind, easy going Luke and think he’s such a sweetheart,” Jace grabs him by the face, squeezing his cheeks with one hand, forcing Lucerys’ lips into a pseudo-pout as Luke tries to shove his brother away. “Look at this face! Pure innocence, so gentle! Nobody can imagine the horror-loving gremlin that lays under the surface. A feisty little demon, this one, when he wants to be.”

“Hey!” Lucerys argues when he can finally push Jace away, “What do you mean little? I’m only two inches shorter than you!”

Cregan throws his head back and laughs as Jacaerys shakes his head and finally takes Cregan’s hand. Luke mumbles a teasing “About time, now you can hold it real tight whenever you get scared!” while he checks that his fake fangs are still attached to his real teeth, only to get elbowed in the ribs by Jace a moment later.

Ouch. “Is this how I get treated after agreeing to be a third wheel?” he sniffles in fake offense. “No good deed goes unpunished.”

“Keep being a smartass and you’ll find out how true that is.” Jace shoots him a warning smile, arching his eyebrows.

“I’m nothing but a saint!”

Lucerys quickly finds out that besides being a self-proclaimed saint, he’s also a guy who’s capable of screaming his lungs out even with a corset squeezing half of his organs.

Fifteen minutes is all it takes before all three are running and tripping across the corn maze, which is so goddamn dark that Luke almost loses Cregan and Jacaerys twice. He has no clue how many acres the maze has, but they run, get chased and scramble to their feet for so long that it almost feels like it doesn’t have an end.

Realistically, they could be running in circles for all they know. There are many cuts and corners along the main path, people in masks or well-done makeup—along with realistic prosthetics—popping out of nowhere every few steps.

All Luke can do is laugh after every jump-scare, curse and laugh some more when he falls and drags Jace down with him and also chant a most undignified and incoherent round of ‘fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ as they bolt from a guy dressed as a butcher. One who Luke doesn’t even have a chance to get a good look at, since the dude’s creeping steps behind them in the middle dead-silent corn maze—besides their own heavy breathings and the faraway shierks of other attendants—followed by the guy’s sudden appearance a couple meters ahead gives Luke such a terrifying startle he actually thinks he’s going to spit out his heart at any moment.

That’s the best scare he’s gotten so far in all the years Lucerys has been going to Halloween mazes and watching horror movies.

“Fucking shit!” Luke doubles over, hands over his knees for balance, as they finally make it out of the corn maze.

He takes deep gulps of air, feeling his heart thumping loudly in his ears. It’s part of the costume but maybe the corset was a bad idea for all this running.

“Are the paid actors…ugh, fuck—are they scarier this year or what?”

Standing back up slowly, Luke presses two fingers over his side, close to his lower ribs. Fuck this, he has to take off the corset. He thought he would be able to handle it with all the swimming he does weekly, his core strength is supposed to be on point.

“That butcher at the end almost gave me a—” he turns, expecting to see Jace and Cregan in a similar breathless state—if perhaps only a little more composed, since they don’t have fabric and wire pressing back into their lungs—only to find he’s all alone.

Pressing a little harder on the stabbing pain by his side, Lucerys gets on his tip toes and peeks into the dark corn maze.

“Jace?” he calls out loud, getting nothing but the far-away screeches coming from here and there.

Oh well, it was to be expected that they would end up splitting with how many paths the goddamn corn maze has, they must have turned at a different corner at one point.

Tough luck, Luke is not going back there. No more running until he gets half his nurse costume off.

He turns on his feet, wondering if there is maybe a bathroom in the farm that he might be able to use, just to immediately scream and jump back when he finds a bloody clown mask a mere inch or two away from his face, making him fall painfully to the ground.

Right, the scares can happen anywhere in between stations.

Lucerys was nothing but low hanging fruit standing there. ‘No pun intended,’ he thinks ironically, rubbing his lower back before a familiar tinkling laugh makes him snap his head up.

“Baela?” he calls, squinting at the clown, only to receive a full-body cackle as his step-sister slash cousin takes off the latex mask.

“Such easy prey, Luce,” she coos, squatting down so she can pinch one of his cheeks.

Letting out a frustrated groan, Luke barely swats her hand away, staying on the floor as he recovers his breath and brings down his heart rate.

“Holy fuck, Baela, you got me good,” he snorts, shaking his head as he appraises her halloween costume. He’s never seen a most gruesome clown mask. “You’re gonna have everyone at the party shitting themselves.”

“Oh, I fucking wish. This is just for the maze, I’m wearing something different for Rhaena’s party.”

She stands up and offers him a hand, which he gratefully accepts, groaning as the corset makes the entire thing more annoying than it should be. Baela eyes him suspiciously as Lucerys gets back on his feet, brushing off some of the dirt from his thighs.

“Well, consider me beyond scared. I kept waiting to see you in the maze but you were so insistent on not telling us what you would be dressed as so you could get us that—”

“Did you hit yourself hard when you fell?” she frowns, grabbing Luke by the shoulder to turn him around, checking for bruises on the visible part of his arms and legs, “You keep making faces.”

“Oh, no, you’re good. It’s this fucking thing,” Lucerys wedges one finger between the edge of the corset and the bloody nurse outfit. “It has a wire that keeps pressing on my ribs. It’s not closed too tight and it’s still killing me all the same. I need to take it off, maybe just for like fifteen minutes, but if I’m gonna get jump-scared anytime I stand around here…”

“C’mon, I’ll take you to the back where the actors can have breaks.”

Grabbing him by the arm, Baela guides him away from the corn maze and across the open field. There’s fog everywhere—from machines, obviously, too thick to be natural—and groups of people running or on high alert, trying to decide where to go next while keeping an eye out for the scare-actors.

“Only you would choose to wear a corset for the very first time for something like this,” Baela clicks her tongue, inspecting his outfit . She has her free hand halfway up, closed in a fist. It takes Luke a second to realize it’s probably a signal to the other actors to let them be.

“You know me, always the go-getter,” Luke smiles, shrugging with one shoulder.

Perhaps born out of generally feeling less than others in his family, always eager to prove himself, even for mundane and insignificant things. Yet tonight is certainly not the night to get into that.

“You pull the costume off nicely though,” Baela pushes him with her hips, making Luke stumble and laugh. “Hello legs! Never seen you in stockings and garters before, babe.”

With his cheeks burning bright red—which they already were thanks to the running, so he hopes it doesn’t look all that different from a moment ago—Luke scratches the back of his neck bashfully.

“Yes, you have. We did drag for Rhaena’s birthday two years ago, remember?”

“Oh yeah. Me and Jace got trashed so fast that weekend, I can barely remember it.” Baela winces at the memory, probably having flashbacks of the massive hangover that Rhaena and Luke had to help their siblings nurse away. “Where the hell is he, by the way? Already snuck away to tongue Stark down somewhere more private?”

Lucerys updates Baela on the night’s interactions with Cregan—he and the twins have an entire separate group chat without Jace to talk about the topic; Luke knows for sure they must also have one like that without him as well, so he doesn't feel too bad about it—as they make it around the barn, towards something that looks like a large storage shed.

“We use it to change and take breaks,” she explains, taking off a lanyard from around her neck to hand it over to Luke. “If anyone asks, tell them this is mine, that you’re my brother and need a break, yada-yada. They won’t give you shit, don’t worry.”

“Should I be going in there if someone else is changing?” Luke grimaces “Feels rude, I’m a stranger, not another scare-actor.”

“Then just go on the back of the shed, we go there for a smoke. You don’t have to undress, right? Just take off the corset for a little bit. There are some patio chairs, you can sit there.”

“My saving angel in a terrifying clown costume,” Luke swings one arm around Baela’s shoulders to pull her close and press a kiss to her cheek. “I owe you my fucking life. I’ll go looking for you to give this back once I can breathe again.”

“No need, I have another.”

She pats her pocket, where another lanyard is peeking out, before putting on the latex clown mask once again, turning on her feet to walk all the way back. “Rest and then go get scared!” she calls—a little muffled, thanks to the mask—raising one arm to wave at Luke. “If I get you again you owe me something for dinner!”

Lucerys agrees with a sigh and a defeated nod, knowing she for sure will be able to get him again.

He starts walking towards the shed, just to turn his head when he hears Baela calling his name again. His sister—already half-way on her way back to the open field they came from—waves her arms over her head and then signals something that Luke can’t really understand.

She miming a phone and then…someone taller than her? With long hair? No clue.

When Luke simply stands there and tilts his head in question, Baela pulls half the mask off—displaying only her mouth—and shouts a couple of sentences. She’s far away enough that Luke can’t hear her, but he’s been taking enough of her time as it is, so he just nods and gives her a thumbs up.

Whatever it is she’s trying to tell him, he’ll ask her later at the party.

The back of the shed is completely deserted, thankfully, with only some patio chairs and an old table with a lopsided umbrella. There are cigarette butts on the ground as well—really? With so much grass around and a forest nearby? Shit screams man-started wildfire—along with a couple of empty water bottles on the table.

Lucerys loses no time pulling at the ends of the satin tape that ties the corset closed, taking a deep breath and plopping down on a chair as soon as he manages to take the damned thing off. ‘Sweet relief,’ Luke thinks with a gratified groan as he closes his eyes, enjoying the small comfort of being able to fill his lungs completely with nothing pressing back against them.

Five minutes later he wishes he had his vape with him, but he left it in Cregan's car along with his wallet.

The only thing Lucerys has been carrying is his phone, wedged in the hidden inner pocket at the front of the corset, right behind the lacing—a “pocket stomacher” is what the website where Luke ordered the corset from said it was called—and so far it has survived both the chasing and the falling.

He rubs the screen on his leg, cleaning it up before unlocking the phone to scroll mindlessly on social media before he feels ready to tie the fucking corset back up and rejoin the terrifying fun.

Luke would consider just ditching the damn thing right here if it wasn’t so goddamn well made.

Rhaena had to help him take his measures two months prior to have the corset custom made, since a couple of generic ones he ordered online didn’t fit him at all. It’s the most expensive part of the entire costume. Luke’s pretty sure he can use it again for a different Halloween or something. Rhaena loves parties and events where they can dress up, so for sure he can get more than one use out of a custom-made corset.

Just to see if anyone has seen the mirror selfies he took before leaving the house, Luke opens Grindr and hits jackpot. Fifteen new messages? He smiles a little, feeling his spirits going back up after his night of being a sudden third wheel, only to be ditched shortly after—not that the last bit is Jace’s fault per se.

Half of the messages are shit, but that’s to be expected. They usually are. Lucerys isn’t necessarily a romantic fool but ‘wanna be my tight little hole for tonight?’ isn’t the way he wants to be spoken to for the first time by a stranger, even for a hookup.

The mirror pictures in the nurse outfit are thirst traps, of course, but still. What happened to “hey, how are you? nice legs btw” or whatever, for fuck’s sake. Luke clicks his tongue, rolling his eyes and texting back the couple of guys who weren’t immediately on freakazoid mode at first glance.

He messes with his curls as he waits for more replies, checking that his fake fangs are still in place—which they are, the tape those fuckers came with is good—and finally gets up to start lacing the corset back up after fifteen more minutes.

Making sure to tie it a little less tightly than before, Luke loops a small bow at the bottom of the corset and then drops his phone back in the hidden pocket. The screen lights up as more messages from Grindr keep coming in.

“No, I don’t wanna be your tight little hole tonight,” Lucerys huffs out loud, to himself, half-irked and half-amused, “Even if technically I could be, but that’s no way to speak to—”

“You could?”

The second voice—taunting and mocking, always fucking taunting and mocking—serves to make Lucerys bite on his tongue and stop mid-sentence. The hairs on the back of neck stand up and it almost feels like something cold—perhaps pure dread—starts sliding down his arms and back.

A funny contrast, since he’s pretty damn sure his face is turning so red all his vampire-inspired makeup will end up melting.

No, no, no, no. Luke simply cannot have this much bad luck.

But theres no mistaking that voice nor that stupid fucking condescending tone.

So, Lucerys bites the inside of his lower lip, takes a deep breath as a new chant of ‘Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!’ bounces inside his mind before he turns his head around to face the unwanted company at the back of the shed.

“Hey, uncle Aemond,” he greets through his teeth, ears burning and heart thumping uncomfortably fast. Perhaps even faster than it did in the maze.

It’s good that he started talking before getting the full view waiting for him, otherwise he wouldn’t have been able to get anything out.

The horror hits first—and Luke really hopes it does not show on his face—but he cannot help but widen his eyes and open his mouth to take a sharp breath as he thinks he sees a black hole in the middle of Aemond’s face, as if someone shot a bullet into his skull. His heart jumps to his throat and it takes him a couple of terrified breaths to realize what’s happening: there’s a black stone instead of the usual sapphire blue in his uncle's eye socket—obsidian, maybe?—with red makeup and fake blood all around the edge and the lines of the scar that goes from the start of Aemond’s hairline to the middle of his cheek.

A scar that Lucerys himself caused once upon a time when they were only kids.

He swallows, feeling his soul come back into his body now that he knows nobody has left a huge wound in the middle of his uncle’s face—again—but the dread remains all the same.

Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, Luke tries to guess if it’s even appropriate for him to openly stare at Aemond’s face. The black stone—that’s obviously there to give the false sense of nothingness instead of a solid prosthetic—along with all the redness that accentuates the scars make Luke feel nervous and uncomfortable, memories of the night when the accident happened flooding his mind in mere seconds.

It looks a little too much how it did back then. The blood, the eye so damaged it's completely gone, skin turning red where it splits.

As the guy who caused the injury, Lucerys feels unnerved at what Aemond has done with it for Halloween.

But as someone who enjoys scary movies and haunted mazes where people in costumes chase you around, he’s pretty fucking impressed.

It is scary, since it’s off-putting to look at Aemond’s attractive face—‘Really?’ Luke thinks, irritated with himself, ‘Still going there right now?’—and see deep black with blood all around where an eye should be.

How long does it take people to realize it’s not professionally done makeup and his uncle really is missing an eye?

At the same time, once you look at Aemond, it’s like you can’t stop. Or perhaps only Lucerys can’t stop.

The Gods know he tries to stop himself from looking on social media, avoids checking Aemond’s stories from the finsta account he shares with Rhaena as much as he can—to keep track of people they don’t wanna be seen checking on from their main accounts—only to end up screencapping many of them and then saving all the pictures to his phone.

He also avoids Aemond in person as much as he can—only to end in shouting matches at his grandfather’s house.

Avoiding Aemond right now seems as impossible as it is to look away from his infuriatingly handsome face. It’s bizarrely alluring.

“Nephew,” Aemond nods once, single eye traveling from the tip of Lucerys’ shoes all the way up to his face. An unfriendly smile pulls the corner of his lips up. “And what the hell are you supposed to be?”

Luke swallows but doesn’t try to cover himself, fighting off the urge to pull at the edges of his outfit or hide behind his hair. Fuck him, what does Luke care what his uncle thinks?

“A character from a video game.” Lucerys shrugs with one shoulder, faking nonchalance as he brings one hand up to his mouth to press the tip of his finger against one fake fang. “You do know what a video game is, right uncle? Something you play with your friends.”

Aemond huffs, rolling his eye. “Yeah, I’m familiar with the groundbreaking concept.”

He gives him another long look that Lucerys holds as long as he can, toes curling inside his shoes. He can feel his own heartbeat in his ears.

Of all the unpleasant family members to run into tonight while dressed as a vampire-nurse, Aemond has got to be the absolute worst one. He would even take Aegon wolf whistling at him and making Lucerys want to punch him in the face.

Not that Aemond is any less punchable, but he’s just so much better at getting under Luke’s skin than Aegon.

“A bit in your face, isn’t it?” his uncle finally spits out, trying to sound innocent when it’s obvious what he means. “With the stockings and the corset…”

He’s still staring up and down at Luke, the eyebrow split in half by the scar arching petulantly.

Scratch that. Aemond is ten times more punchable than Aegon.

‘In your face about it? C’mon, I’m sure you can do better than that. Just call me a fag and be done with it, uncle.’ Lucerys thinks as he lets out and unamused little snort that he hopes annoys the fuck out of Aemond as he leans against the wall. ‘Mommy dearest isn’t around to gasp in fake outrage and tell you the proper hateful and God-honoring term is sodomite or something.’

“Oh, right, and ‘friends’ are people who like you and wanna hang out with you, in case you didn’t know what that is either, uncle.”

Maybe if Aemond Targaryen looked a little bit less like everything Luke wanted to look like when he was growing up. Maybe if criticizing and judging every little thing Lucerys and his siblings ever do wasn’t one of Aemon’s favorite hobbies. Or maybe if Luke could hate Aemond as much as his uncle hates him—

There are endless hypothetical options that take Luke nowhere but he has been thinking about all the same ever since he turned eight and Aemond stopped talking to him for years.

Maybe, maybe, maybe.

Maybe then Luke wouldn’t care nor react to every single taunt Aemond throws his way during their tense family encounters. And maybe then it would be possible for them to argue less and ignore each other more.

Perhaps Lucerys would finally and completely move on and stop feeling weird whenever he thinks about his uncle for too long.

“Ouch, so mean,” Aemond hums, dismissive and so obviously sarcastic it makes Lucerys grind his teeth. “Do you like what I did with your gift, by the way?”

Aemond raises both eyebrows as he places a cigarette in his mouth and tilts his head so Luke has a better look at his left side, scarred and eyeless.

Lucerys bristles and then frowns, feeling himself flush red, looking away for a moment before he turns his eyes back onto his uncle—now deciding to go a little lower, since he can’t bring himself to keep staring at his face any longer.

That’s a mistake.

Aemond has always had the trademarked Targaryen look with the purple eye and the long, silver hair. Stupidly handsome, much to Luke’s constant dismay, because there is truly nothing more fucked up that feeling attracted to the infuriating uncle you maimed as a kid, whom clearly despises you to death.

But it should be a testimony of how attracted Lucerys feels to that insufferable face his uncle has, that only now he’s noticing what Aemond’s wearing for Halloween.

Which is nothing at all.

Kind of.

He has a tight white tank top—that perhaps his uncle himself would call a wifebeater, knowing him—that reveals his full-sleeve tattoos on both of his arms. Perhaps all the ink is almost as distracting as the arms themselves, which comes as no surprise for Lucerys, who watches his uncle’s workout stories on repeat now and then.

This is the first time he sees the tattoos in person, though. Whenever Aemond is around them for their forced family interactions he has expensive long sleeve dress shirts with black coats on top.

Alicent’s good son, the corporate lawyer, always so fucking proper.

There are more tattoos on Aemond’s clavicles and down his chest, some that Luke has not seen before—not even on instagram—that continue well past the tank top.

Lucerys swallows and moves along, taking in the rest of the costume.

Over the shirt there is a brown apron splattered with fake blood that reaches the middle of Aemond’s calves, covering most of his black cargo jeans as well. That’s why at first glance Luke thought Aemond had no shirt on, the long apron gives that illusion.

His hair is halfway up. He has black nitrile gloves on and a butcher knife in his hand.

“Wait a second, you’re that guy from the maze!” Luke suddenly realizes as he takes in the entirety of Aemond’s costume “The butcher who chased us,” he corrects himself, blinking and shaking his head, “You’re working here?”

“I volunteer here,” Aemond corrects as well after grabbing the cigarette between thumb and forefinger so he can speak, blowing out the smoke through his nose. “I do every year. Nothing funnier than scaring the shit out of the most annoying fuckers this city has seen.”

Lucerys blinks, trying to not feel instantly annoyed that Aemond obviously means him, since he indeed scared the shit out of Luke in that maze.

The butcher had been terrifying, so much so that Luke doesn’t remember feeling that scared in years, and it turns out it was Aemond all along. Of course.

“Did you know it was us in the maze? Me?” he frowns, surprised to find he doesn’t know what he wants to hear. If Aemond followed to scare them—Luke—on purpose or if it was casual that they walked by him.

“Heard the voices and realized it was too good of an opportunity to pass,” Aemond shrugs, playing with the cigarette between his fingers, rolling it across three of them back and forth. Back and forth. He does so without looking, since Aemond has not taken his eye off of Lucerys since he arrived. “You’re so damn loud when you scream, you know that?”

Luke clears his throat, starting to bounce one of his legs.

“Baela got me better than you, sorry to say you’re not that scary.”

A big fucking lie that his uncle doesn’t need to figure out. Lucerys has to leave the encounter with some of his dignity intact.

“Ah yeah, I thought I saw her,” Aemond hums at the memory before he throws the cigarette to the floor and steps on it. So of course that was his uncle’s doing too. He lights up another one in no time. “That’s how you got back here? She told you where to hide when shit got too scary, princess?”

“Fuck off,” Lucerys rolls his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest. “Corset was killing me, so I had to take it off for a little while.”

And why the hell is he explaining himself to Aemond? He doesn’t have to know why Luke’s there.

But there's an itch within that simply tells Lucerys is unacceptable that Aemond thinks he got so fucking scared he needed a break to put himself together. He’s no coward, alright? He’s a proper horror fan.

“Smart, to run around with that shit on.”

“Figuring that out, thanks,” Luke makes sure he uses the same smartass tone Aemond just did, to be a proper dick in return. “And Joffrey even wanted me to wear the same heels the character does, imagine that.”

A long silence falls for the first time since Aemond arrived. Lucerys bounces his leg a little faster, wondering if now he can leave without it looking like he's scurrying away from his uncle because he’s intimidated by him. Which he isn’t. What Lucerys feels when he sees his uncle is actually a fucked up little cockail of emotions that no sane person should ever experience when looking at anyone, thank you very much.

To be able to recreate such a unique recipe at home, one would need a thick layer of guilt, followed by animosity and a strange type of yearning—the type you feel when you remember your childhood—and then endless spoonfuls of the most incoherent desire for what you should not want—very Targaryen of him, actually, the one area were Luke’s ancestry cannot be denied—just to top it all off with more annoyance and irritation.

It suddenly dwells on Luke’s mind that the silence has been too long.

He snaps his head to the side after losing himself in his own inappropriate thoughts about his uncle, only to find that Aemond has been staring at him the entire time.

He has a different type of look in his eye—appraisal? Is that what Luke sees?—, laser focused on Lucerys’ running shoes. His uncle squints a little, as if to consider something.

“Huh,” Aemond clicks his tongue and then tilts his head to the side before shoving one hand into his back pocket to pull out his phone. “What’s this kid’s game you’re dressed as?”

Lucerys bites the inside of his cheeks. “Are you five years older than me or forty? I’m not dressed as the game, I’m a character from it. And it’s not for kids, it’s a horror game. It won game of the year at the Game Awards, do you live under a fucking rock?”

Aemond presses two fingers to the bridge of his nose, “For fuck’s sake, the geek smack-talk makes me want to steal your wallet and waterboard you in the shed’s bathroom.”

Huffing in offense, Luke bites his tongue, squeezing his crossed arms tighter. Maybe he should punch Aemond after all, he bets it would feel amazing. If Aemond would be able to pick him and turn him upside-down is beyond question though, but Luke's trying really hard to stop thinking about the Targaryen’s stupidly well defined arms covered in tattoos.

“Waterboard me? Really? Even your bullying tendencies are so last century, uncle. Tell me to kill myself on social media or something, I swear you talk like a boomer.”

“Shut it and give me the goddamn name, Lucerys.” Aemond snaps, just as irritated with his presence. Good, let it be mutual. “Not necessarily in that order. Give me the name of the game and then shut your trap, shithead.”

Luke grimaces, considering how thick the apron Aemond is wearing really is. If he kicks his uncle in the dick, will that extra layer of fabric do anything to soften the blow? Probably not. If Luke puts all his might into it, he can for sure punt Aemond’s balls back into the spot where they dropped from.

“Medical Madness.” Lucerys hisses through his teeth after a pause, only because he wants Aemond to see for himself it’s not a kids game. It’s rated M, come on.

Aemond grunts and nods once as he types on his phone, scrolling on it for a couple of minutes. Lucerys hates how badly he wants to know what Aemond thinks of the premise or if he thinks the preview pictures look interesting enough. If Aemond is a horror fan too—which would make sense, if this is what he chooses to do for Halloween—Luke is itching to discuss it with him. He hates that he wants that as well.

“Hmm, who would have guessed,” Aemond locks his phone and puts it back in his pants. “Your annoying little brother’s not entirely wrong. If you’re cosplaying or whatever you should commit to the bit, you know?”

“What?”

Aemond raises one eyebrow before pointedly looking at his feet again.

The heels?

A different type of warmth hits Luke’s cheeks at the implication of that observation, clearing his throat and looking down at his sneakers. Aemond thinks he should be in heels on top of the stockings, bloody nurse outfit, fangs and corset? What happened to it being “a little too in his face”?

He bounces his leg faster, a weird sensation twisting in his stomach.

‘That’s kind of hot.’ Lucerys shakes his head at the thought. ‘No, it’s not. It’s fucking not!’

Luke only thinks that because the wires in his head are all tangled and fucked up, so the synapses that should find Aemond “frustrating and insufferable” take the wrong turn in his brain when seeing him dressed up as a bloody butcher and decide to arrive at the “horny” slot instead.

Perhaps Luke likes horror a little too much.

Terrible to be a cliché and kind of fall into the monsterfucker category as well.

He also enjoyed Animal Crossing and Breath of the Wild very much and got deeply addicted to both games when they were launched for the Nintendo Switch, if that helps him be less of a stereotype. He contains multitudes and all of that bullshit.

“Maybe for Rhaena’s party later tonight,” Luke shrugs, still looking at his sneakers. He has never really worn heels before, not even for the birthday when he and his siblings did drag.

The pressure in his belly grows at the insane idea of Aemond being the first one to see him when he tries that.

Is Luke going insane or does he have a humiliation kink now? No way that would go nicely.

“Guess I’ll have to miss it when you finally give your vampire-nurse-whatever outfit justice, gonna be here all night.”

Not that Aemond is invited to Rhaena’s party to begin with, so Luke feels dumb for sensing a spark of disappointment at that answer. He knows the maze is open until one or two in the morning, of course Aemond would be here; which is still somehow a shock in itself, his uncle being here.

“I’m surprised you’re even allowed to do this maze. Isn’t Alicent like, terrified you’re gonna get possessed by demons for doing this?”

Aemond looks at Luke like he just grew an entire new head, eyebrows pressed together as he frowns.

“Allowed?” He repeats, tone offended. “I’m twenty-five and don’t live with my parents, unlike someone else here. Allowed.”

Now Luke feels offended. He only lives with Rhaenyra and Daemon when he’s on break, the rest of the time he’s either on High Tide’s campus or at his grandparents’ place since they also live close to his University—obviously, Corlys is the Dean—and Luke likes seeing them on weekends.

“Well, does she mind?” Lucerys insists, just to be a dick.

Aemond rolls his eye at him like Luke’s nothing but an irritating child.

“Mom knows I volunteer for some local events during fall. As a member of the city’s council, she quite likes that.” He explains while playing with the fake butcher knife, twirling it in one hand before dropping it on the table with the lopsided umbrella. “It’s good Samaritan shit to volunteer, you should try that sometime, Lucerys.”

“Right, because you’re clearly doing this out of the goodness of your heart, ” Luke huffs. “So, she doesn’t know you dress like a psycho and pretend to be a serial killer for Halloween? Would you look at that, the prodigious son can indeed do wrong after all.”

“Guess I don’t gotta ask in return if my dear sister doesn’t mind you going out looking like that.” Aemond snaps, glancing up and down, different than a second ago when he made the comment about committing to the bit. “Apple doesn’t fall far from the three.”

Luke springs off the wall instantly, stepping closer to Aemond at the taunt, closing one hand into a fist.

“What’s that supposed to mean, huh, Aemond?”

Sometimes he’s absolutely sure that his uncle still thinks he’s nothing but a teen he can intimidate. ‘Let’s go at it, asshole,’ Lucerys thinks, biting the inside of his cheeks. He’s dying to prove to Aemond what will happen if he provokes him enough. He might be shorter and more lean compared with his uncle, but he’s no weakling who cannot defend himself.

Luke’s been in the jiu jitsu team in college for two years now, he’ll bring Aemond down with him for sure.

And there is no good sportsmanship in a real fight. He’ll gladly dislocate his uncle’s shoulder with his feet.

“Nothing at all,” Aemond smiles a taunting little smile, obviously pleased that Luke raised to the bait. “I’m actually surprised to see you here all covered in fake blood and sporting those fangs, I guess. Feels—unexpected, coming from you.”

“Uh-huh. And why would that be unexpected, exactly?”

“I’m sure you can figure it out, nephew.” Aemond shrugs.

“Then fucking spell it for me, you stupid asshole.”

Aemond is the one to push away from the back of the shed and step even closer now. So close that the tip of their shoes touch, Aemond’s combat boots bumping into Lucerys’ sneakers.

Luke raises his chin and arches both eyebrows. ‘Come on, motherfucker.’ He thinks, ‘Come on, come on, come on!’

“Oh, there he is.” Aemond squints his eye while Lucerys does his best to not stare directly at his own reflection in the obsidian replacing sapphire. “Everyone thinks you’re so sweet, always putting on the hypocritical facade that you wouldn’t hurt a fly. But I do know better, don’t I, nephew? You look like you want to spit in my face right now.”

“Maybe,” Luke admits through his teeth.

“Yeah, guess I’m kinda surprised that you’re letting the doe-eyed front fall to show the real little fucker underneath.”

Aemond shrugs and flickers the cigarette between two fingers with his thumbs to make the ashes crumble away from the tip. Some of them fall near his face, so Luke smacks his uncle’s wrist away.

“Well, asshole, obviously you don’t know me at all,” not that Luke minds, not that he cares how Aemond once did know me. “Because if you knew me, instead of the made up version you’ve made in your head, you would also know I come every other year.”

For some strange reason, his uncle seems genuinely taken aback by that.

“No shit,” Aemond hums, blinking in surprise. “I thought you came to be Baela’s little cheerleader or something. You and Jacaerys, since I saw him in the maze holding hands with Stark like a lovesick tool.”

Lucerys huffs.

“Were you born with the uncanny ability to be a piece of shit anytime you make a statement or something?”

“Maybe,” Aemond says in the same tone Lucerys did just a minute ago. Dick.

“Baela ended up volunteering because we come so often on Halloween,” Luke carries on, more and more irritated by the second. “I enjoy getting scared, we get to support Baela and part of the ticket’s sales go to charity for the local hospital. Money well spent, if you ask me.”

“So you are paying to get chased and caught by me, with a fake knife and all?” Aemond snorts dismissively, flickering his cigarette again. “Shit, nephew. For you I may have even done it for free. Add a real knife to make it fair and fun.”

Lucerys knows it’s a tin veiled threat. A pseudo-joke Aemond is shoe-horning in, just to be a dick, but a threat nonetheless. Luke should take it as one as well, but the thought of Aemond chasing him across the field—like a hound after its meal—suddenly sends a thrill down his spine, stomach twisting in fucked up anticipation.

Bad idea, bad idea, bad idea.

Hot idea.

He shrugs with one shoulder, looking up at his uncle in what he hopes to be an enraging amount of self-confidence. He’s always been so good at pissing Aemond off, after all.

“Who says you would be able to catch me?” Luke taunts before he can let reason return to him—because honestly, fuck Aemond, where is this certainty that he can beat him coming from?—both irritated and enthralled at the prospect of Aemond running after him. “Pretty sure I’m faster than you.”

Aemond seizes him with a long stare, stepping closer as the towers over Lucerys, who presses himself back against the shed but keeps his chin raised in defiance all the same.

“You think you can escape from me if I were to seriously chase after you.”

Aemond’s tone is so incredulous and mocking it makes Luke grind his teeth, nails digging in the palm of his hands.

“A thousand percent. Are you joking?” Luke snorts and sees anger cross Aemond’s single eye. Yeah, join the club, fucker. “You're a chainsmoker wearing heavy boots. Are you delusional on top of being generally unlikable, uncle?”

Luke does up to 50 laps in the University’s pools on a regular day, when he’s just going to stretch his muscles and exercise in general, when he’s not even trying. Sure, he has seen Aemond do his gymbro weight lift routine on countless insta stories but Luke’s pretty positive his uncle does not do enough cardio to catch up to him.

“Shut the hell up, Lucerys. I could even give you a twenty second head start and I would still be able to get you in no time.”

Throwing his head back, Luke laughs. There is no need for all that, but there’s something thrilling about being capable of getting under Aemond’ skin by behaving like this. His uncle looks like he wants to slap him across the face in response.

“No, you would not be able to catch me, Aemond.”

Leaning on his right forearm after resting it by Luke’s face—trapping him against the shed with his body—Aemond brings one hand up towards his neck, hooks one finger on the choker, pulling it and then letting it smack back against Luke’s skin with a loud twack.

Asshole. Luke winces just a little, the light, burning pain only adding to the sick excitement growing between his legs.

“Wanna bet, you little fuck?” Aemond sneers, a cruel smirk pulling at the corner of his lips, face so close Luke can smell sweat and cologne.

Lucerys swallows, nibbling on his lower lip—as the clashing sensations of being terribly furious and stupidly turned on give him some type of whiplash—and then catches Aemond’s single eye flickering down towards his mouth and staring for a little too long.

Well, then.

Luke smiles a tiny bit before he can help himself. “You’re on.”

Aemond blinks, eye snapping back up, as if astonished by Lucery’s response.

“Really? Huh, so you’re not a complete coward. Color me surprised.”

Emboldened by the sparkle of fury that travels from his stomach to the tip of his fingers, Luke grabs his uncle by the apron’s straps that hang around his neck and then yanks him down to his height. Aemond falters only for a second, seeming both intrigued and annoyed. Luke can’t even take a second to savor the little victory, as he’s feeling just as disoriented by the contradictory reactions rushing through his brain at such a speed that he cannot settle into one emotion before he’s dealing with the next one.

He breathes in and breathes out, feeling Aemond’s own exhales a little too close, warm and inviting against his skin.

“I said you’re on, start counting, asshole.” Luke almost snarls, eyes fixed on his uncle’s eye before he moves to the left, following all the red around Aemond’s scar, a strange feeling of familiarity starting to spread as he looks at the skin.

“They did teach you how to do that at the douchebag university you graduated from, right? Count up to twenty?”

He shoves Aemond away by the shoulders once he lets go of the straps, but his uncle doesn’t go far. It also feels like trying to push a brick wall. Goddamn him.

After barely stumbling from the push—much to Luke’s unnerve—Aemond grabs him by the face with one hand, fingers digging into the soft parts of his cheeks.

Lucerys flushes instantly from both offense and excitement. He wants to bite Aemond’s fingers off. He wants to open his mouth and let Aemond spit down his throat.

“Did they teach me how to count in law school?” Aemond repeats slowly, like he can’t quite believe Luke’s nerve. Luke instantly closes both hands around the Tagaryen’s wrist but doesn’t quite try to push him away, only clenches his fingers until a slight look of pain makes Aemond squint for a second.

“You must be dying for me to kick your ass, you insolent little bastard.”

Luke huffs and diggs his thumb into the center of Aemond’s wrist, right over the carpal ligament. I must hurt, since Aemond eases some of the pressure on his face.

“Are you—” Lucerys trashes a little against the hold of Aemond’s hand on his face until his uncle’s fingers slip from his cheeks to his jawline and he can speak with more ease. “—going to start counting or not, you piece of shit?”

If he struggled some more, would Aemond’s hand slip all the way to his throat? Would he try choking Lucerys, then? Would Luke let him? He squeezes his legs together before something happens down there that Aemond can easily feel, pressed as close as he is.

Not that Aemond is in a much better condition, chest raising and falling a little too fast, the pupil of his remaining eye blown out. And this Lucerys doesn’t understand at all. Because Aemond looks pissed off, but he doesn’t look like he’s only pissed off. There is more there, under the teeth grinding and the face squeezing.

How could there be more, after what Luke has done and Aemond has said?

There has always been more for him, but it feels impossible that the same can be said for his uncle.

The hand holding Lucerys’ face finally lets go, but only to grab his chin instead with two fingers, turning Luke’s face to the right. “Do you see that field behind my shoulder?”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes out, hands still holding onto Aemond’s wrist.

“Still farm property, but we couldn’t use it for the maze. Too dark, tall grass. So, nobody goes there.”

The thumbing grows in Luke’s ears, a mix of apprehension and excitement turning and tossing in his stomach. Empty, lonely field. Aemond chases him there and then what?

And then fucking what?

“Gonna give you that head start I promised, since I’m such a good fucking sport. And I’m that confident, too.” Close as they are, Luke can see Aemond smile, all cocky and full of himself. Something predatory about it. Fear and eagerness run down Luke’s spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Aemond leans even closer then, past Luke’s face, until his lips are only inches away from his ear.

“Start running, nephew.”

And so, Lucerys does.