Daenys Velaryon is the oldest child of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon, but she shares the same true lineage as her brothers Jacaerys, Lucerys, and Joffrey. As the oldest child of the heir to the throne, she has duties to fulfill, duties that she is ex...
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Year: 129 AC
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The balcony perched high above the roaring waves of Blackwater Bay offered a breathtaking view, even as dusk settled in. Lucerys Velaryon, standing with an uneasy countenance, watched as the sun's last glimmers bathed the horizon in a radiant display of gold and crimson before vanishing entirely. The fading light cast elongated shadows across the balcony, but the young prince couldn't help but shudder as he turned his gaze toward the inky depths of the bay.
The sea, an endless expanse that both enchanted and terrified him, seemed to hold secrets within its dark embrace. It whispered tales of bravery and adventure, to a true Velaryon anyways, but Luke was not a true Velaryon. His fear of the sea was a shame he bore silently, eventually averting his eyes from the foreboding waters, memories clawing at the edges of his mind. He vividly recalled the funeral of his father, the weight of grief heavy in the air as the sea claimed the coffin, dragging it beneath the waves, swallowing the remains of a beloved man. The sight of the heavy stone sinking into the darkness was etched in his memory, haunting him whenever he stood too close to the water's edge.
The sea had fingers.
Bastard, it called him, reaching out to drag him down.
Bastard, just like his uncle had called them all. The very same uncle who possessed his sister.
Luke wondered if she'd get a Velaryon funeral if the Greens killed her, the waves closing over her unseeing violet eyes, her still lifeless form in a stone coffin that could never do her brilliance justice.
Selfishly, he imagined he wouldn't mind her betrayal all that much if it kept her alive. He was not like Jace, a coiled spring ready to burst into curses at the mere mention of her name. He just wanted her alive, and even if she hated them all now and stood with the enemy, perhaps she might counsel mercy for them if she held the ear of the false king's brother.
Lucerys Velaryon was not Jace, with his seemingly endless supply of courage. No, Lucerys Velaryon was a coward and he did not wish to die. He did not wish for anyone to die.
Perhaps that made him more naive than their youngest brother Viserys, dreaming of a peaceful end to an impending war that only promised violence.
Before his unease could escalate into a nauseating discomfort, a familiar sound, the clearing of a throat, broke his reverie. Luke turned to see Lord Corlys Velaryon, making his slow approach, leaning slightly on his cane. Concern flashed across his face, his instinct to assist the older man instantaneous.
"Grandsire," he began, stepping forward with a worried furrow in his brow. "You shouldn't strain yourself."
Lord Corlys chuckled softly at the young prince's immediate response, patting his cheek affectionately, "Ah, my dear boy, you needn't fret over an old man like me. I've weathered far worse storms than a simple stroll."
