Fanfic Idea! (Lucemond, Part 2 of, Where Lucerys is dead, until he isn't)
Part 1:
Lucerys was an odd boy. Ever since he escaped the hands of the Stranger, he became...different, and not just from the new addition of white hairs mixed with brown on his head, or the strange coloring of his left eye, brown, but it had turned purple in the near center.
For starters, he was colder. Not in personality, but in body temperature. It got worse when he slept, he was so cold his older brother called for the Maesters, thinking he had passed, and if it weren't for his beating heart and his breathing, they would have prepared for yet another Velaryon funeral.
He avoids empty spaces, even making way for things that aren't even there. They heard him having a one-sided conversation with dead air.
When his father, Laenor, died, instead of crying like his brothers, he simply told them that Laenor wasn't dead. This greatly confused Rhaenys. Does this boy mean Laenor would be like him, returning from the grave, escaping the Stranger?
When asked, he simply looked at her, confused, and repeated his statement. His father Laenor isn't dead.
He then asked her to lower herself, and once she did, he whispered something in her ear. Her face was calm, but her eyes began to burn the more Lucerys talked.
It was not known what he said, but Rhaenys was said to have requested a private audience with her gooddaughter Rhaenyra. It was also said that at that time, she had gotten closer to little Lucerys, even answering the strangest questions, because according to Lucerys, "They asked."
He was even able to do certain things. Like learning secrets, for instance. From something as small as the servants gossiping, to something as large as the plot to feed his mother moon tea mixed in her food while she was pregnant with Aegon III.
Yes, Lucerys was a strange boy.
And soon, that odd boy grew to be lovely young man, with a larger man in black dutifully following him everywhere.
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It all started when he died. He was dead for a few minutes, and for a moment, he was one of the very beings he hears only tales of. He watched his mother screaming, but he couldn't understand. He tried reaching up to her, but he couldn't touch her at all. He tried to scream, to shout, but he couldn't make a sound.
Then he saw it. His body. Bleeding on the floor, pooling, painting it red. He could feel pain in his chest, but how? His heart stopped beating already. He wished to cry, scream. But he couldn't. And it was worse, suffering in silence.
He was cold. It wasn't uncomfortable, but it was strange. He didn't like it. He never felt this sort of cold. He always had fire in his blood to warm him.
Then he felt something cool, much cooler than himself, on his shoulder. Turning around, he saw a large man cloaked in darkness.
"Too young. Much too young."
The man's voice was strange, warbly and echoing. It sounded familiar, but at the same time, it sounded completely foreign.
"Return to your body, child. It is not your time, yet."
He subconsciously nodded, but he could feel himself fading. He felt something strange, and he jumped when he felt it. A heart beat.
And when he opened his eyes and gasped. He was in the center of Maesters.
His memory was a blur those days, but he remembered thinking how strange it was, for the usual empty hallways to be crowded with strange looking people, in different, strange clothing, wearing symbols he did not recognize. Soon, he understood.
He can see them. Spirits. Entities. Specters. When he was younger, he would have talked to them for hours, but then they began to ask him to do things, so they may let go of their resentment and finally embrace the Stranger, and at first it was little things, like giving a certain servant girl roses, or giving hidden money to so and so's mother, but then it got worse. One even asked him to poison a cook, and he got scared, and they got angry when they found out he refuses to do it. He finds it easier to ignore such requests now, at least. Although he does certain favors for them (favors he was willing to do), and in exchange, they give him news and lessons and stories. It was interesting, how much the ghosts gossip, how much accumulated knowledge and secrets they have. It became easier to learn of a person's plots when the ghosts have heard it coming straight from their lips, though some do exaggerate at times. Soon, Lucerys learned which spirit to trust for reports, and which ones he needed to be wary of.
They didn't have a sense of personal space, after all, no one could see them. They have gone so far as to put their face mere centimeters away from someone to "assess" them, hells, he saw some of them try entering his mother's room when it was time for her to bathe.
Strangely, when he ordered them to never enter there, they followed. They didn't understand, he didn't understand, but he tries not to upset them by using his "capabilities" too much. It was better for them to continue to like him, after all.
When he was 10, his uncle was given to him as a sworn knight, his shield and protector. He was trained by none other than Lucerys' step-father, Daemon. It was strange, having his uncle following him around (it used to be the opposite).
He can't say he doesn't enjoy his company, though it was hard conversing with the spirits with his presence. Once, he tried talking to them in his bath, and Aemond quickly opened the doors to a very naked, very much alone Lucerys.
He quickly left, red-faced, and only interrogated him once he was sure he was decent.
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So I decided to write a part 2!
Any thoughts? Violent reactions?
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