LUCERYS VELARYON doesn't have a custom title currently.
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ABOUT: With a free-loving but hard head on his shoulders, Lucerys has both struggled through the hardships of being a second son and still reveling in the freedoms it allows. While his heart lies with the sea, he has spent many years in the public eye and is no stranger to court life.
Joined: 12-April 15
Last Seen: Dec 14 2015, 08:09 PM
Local Time: Jul 19 2018, 08:37 PM
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Dec 14 2015, 08:09 PM
There was water on his chest. Hot, smeared saltwater. He'd long since disrobed of his doublet and shirt, always more comfortable in the garb he would often sport while at sea, and he clutched a softly-weeping form into the bare muscles of his pectorals. His back was propped at a lazy angle against the wooden headboard of the bed, holding Rhaenna to him as she shared with him her tears and her anger. Lucerys said little, listening intently as she murmured things about her father, about the egg that was once hers, about Adara, about Valarr and his new hatchling, and about Kairen and his new surname. Beneath her ear his heart thumped with every syllable, and sometimes a long sigh would deflate his chest and her head would go down with it. Even so, though, his arms never relaxed from around her slender frame, and when he felt a slick wetness coating his sternum from her tears, the admiral made no move to wipe them away. He was sure there would be more. Even now, hours since he had first entered her chambers, he was sure there would be more. "You cannot possibly believe that," he'd told her, refuting the idea that she was something less than her dragon-riding siblings. In truth, Lucerys could not picture a single person that was above Rhaenna, in any way or form. To him, and he knew to many, as well, she was above all.
At times, he almost could not believe how sad his betrothed had become. She saw her father as a traitor, a liar, and Kairen a thief and a pretender. Her brother Prince Valarr, whom she had seen as the only one who could understand her, now stood with the rest of their siblings - where she thought she did not. Lucerys' heart broke for his silver princess, and there were moments where the helplessness to make things right for her were nearly painfully overwhelming. What could he do? He could not shove her brother's dragon back into its egg, and could not force Kairen's hatchling to go back and choose Rhaenna instead. As much as he wished he could will it to happen, the young admiral was hopeless. All he could do was bring her closer against him, sharing his body heat with her, placing his unshaven lips to the smooth flat of her forehead and filling his nostrils with the scents of her parfumes. "You will see," he tried offering, his voice husky and deep as it crawled from his throat. "Very little will change, in the end." So Valarr would raise his dragon in Summerhall. So Kairen would live in Crackclaw Point, and rule from what would come to be the rebuilt Whispers. The King would still be Rhaenna's father, and soon, Lucerys would still take her away from the palace and to their own home on Driftmark. Adara would still come with them, and he would still serve as Commander of the Seawatch. She would still one day be Lady of High Tide, if his father's negotiations went well, and King's Landing would still always be there. He hoped that would be of at least some comfort to her.
At last, when Lucerys had long since lost count of how long he'd remained with her here, the tears stopped and her stormy grey eyes cleared. Still he listened quietly to her talk to him, words coming freely and without judgement as they spilled past her lips, and he enjoyed the sound of her voice even despite the anger and sadness that clung to it. He kissed her when he could, either on her forehead, her temple or even her lips, if he was lucky, and he let her continue whenever he pulled away. He wished this tournament did not have to be so stained for her... it pained him to know it would be their last together, until he returned from Pentos. Oh, he suddenly remembered, his jaws briefly gritting together. Stirring somewhat beneath her, Lucerys cleared his throat and swallowed hard. He'd nearly forgotten about his father's orders that he go to Essos, if only to try and find more about the rumors whispering of pirate and mercenary invasions. How would his betrothed stomach the news? Better than he had, he hoped... "Princess..." he spoke lowly, interrupting the comfortable silence that had fallen over them. "There is something I must do soon," he floated his palm into the back of her hair, fingertips gently stroking through the silver roots that covered her scalp. "My father would have me go to Pentos... the Blackwater Bay is nearly unsafe, he says." Lucerys pulled in a long breath into his chest, ribcage expanding with the oxygen.
"I am supposed to find more about the pirates and bandits that are stalking the Narrow Sea. And I am supposed to leave as soon as the tournament ends..." as softly as possible, he delivered her the news regarding the orders he now had to fill. Though it tore at his heart fibers to be apart from the Princess, he knew it was all to protect her and her family. It was his duty, and his House's duty as the naval overlords the Iron Throne looked to for safety. Without them, trade would not reach the Red Keep - food, spices, clothes and other essentials, as well as all the luxuries the nobility so enjoyed. Without them, the Crownlands would have an eternal exposure to an invasion from Essos, or truly, from any other naval power that wished to take the city. It would be foolish for Lucerys to try and refuse this order, or any order, much less one that he almost worried had come from the entire Small Council.
Nov 1 2015, 11:36 PM
Having journeyed throughout the newly-rebuilt palace of Summerhall shortly after his arrival, Lucerys had wondered, would Kairen have anything like this? Though the King had not yet openly legitimized his closest friend for the public to see, the young admiral had been privy to many -if not all- of the details since the new dragon's hatching. To think, all those years spent in Silverhill, tucked away behind the mountains of the Westerlands, there was a dragon egg waiting for Kairen across the other side of the continent... the spectrum of the notion was broad and almost overwhelming, and he could only imagine what his comrade felt like. Nevertheless, knowing at the very least Kairen's new betrothed brought him some modicum of peace, Lucerys joined in on the revelry hosted within these new walls. Even Rhaenna, who was more and more pensive the closer they had gotten to Summerhall, offered him a few smiles.
The night was still early, however, when the Seawatch commander found himself without either of them. He'd watched Kairen disappear with the Lady Alva at his side, and had kissed his Princess goodnight when she'd confessed to wishing to retire early. His brother Jacaerys, no doubt, was likely occupied elsewhere with a new young maid of his choosing, and the second son made no attempt to look for him. He'd noticed Coraly filtering through the throngs of people earlier that day, yet had not seen her since, and even his youngest sibling Laena was not immediately apparent as his sea-green eyes flickered over the crowds. At some point someone had gone to lit the many sconces that lined the cavernous great hall, and there was a warm yellow luminescence that reflected off of the marble pillars and onto all the reveling faces surrounding him. With a cup of wine in his hand, Lucerys had half a mind to retire as well, for though the music was loud and the food was delectable, he did not know Summerhall like he knew Driftmark or the Red Keep. Though he recognized a small number of guests that flitted around him, the young admiral felt as foreign to these polished walls as they felt to him. He wondered, what did Prince Valarr think of it all?
Lifting the chalice to his bearded lips, Lucerys drew in a gulp of wine into his mouth, his eyes drifting above the silver rim of the cup and to a flash of red that drifted by him. Truly, were it not for that striking head of hair, the commander would not have noticed her. He barely recognized her as it was, really, but he remembered the red of her locks, and he could barely swallow the burning wine in his mouth from the shock that filled him. Was it really her, though? Forcing down the gulp with a grimace, Lucerys watched her for a few moments longer, at last deciding to do what he could to make sure the distance between them remained as large as possible. They had humiliated themselves those years past, truly. He was young and clumsy and she was no better, and the tangle of their lips was unfortunately a memory he had wished to forget. But with the sight of her, matured as she was, had resurfaced the embarrassment, and perhaps for both of their sake, Lucerys would not think to come near her.
Fate was a cruel mistress, however, and he knew the moment he found her stepping into his arms for a dance that tonight would be no exception. He had turned to nearly every other partner available, and still, somehow, the young admiral ended up in front of the Lady Reissa herself. Swallowing hard, he at first kept his gaze cast downwards, excusing it with the dip of his strong chin and a polite bow as the music first began. Did she remember him? The memories were cloudy and vague at best, watered by the copious amounts of wine they had shared as young teenagers, but Lucerys feared if he could still recognize her, and could still remember how horribly he'd humiliated himself with her, so would she the moment she laid eyes upon him. "My lady," he greeted, slipping an arm around the back of her waist to step closer against her. Gods, his spine felt stiff. "Shall we?"
Oct 8 2015, 12:35 PM
Pensive. It filled her eyes, like a storm of ice, a grey storm filled with rain and frost and fog and mist in just a pair of two swirling orbs. It awed him as much as it concerned him, and at first, Lucerys let it go unspoken. His heart went out to his betrothed in the face of the crown's latest news... Kairen, a dragonseed. Rhaenna's unhatched egg having only been petrified for so long because it was not meant for her. The brood of princes and princesses having a brother they were always kept from knowing. It was a change large enough that there were not even words to do it justice, and the admiral was gentle, at first, around his betrothed. He would keep an arm around her waist to assure her of his presence, he remained close when they had to be apart, and he gave her a soft smile whenever he managed to catch her wandering gaze. She deserved his patience, as were his vows to her, and Lucerys kept himself from asking her about what toiled through her silvery skull. He had faith she would confide in him if she wished, and he would be there, loyally waiting for her once she did.
But that was at first. The rhythmic rocking of the Blue Lady had of course sent the Princess's stomach reeling, but even despite what he was sure was the strong urge to vomit, his betrothed remained distant and composed. Too composed. As if not even the incessant nausea was enough to pull her thoughts from the Red Keep behind them. Part of him nearly wished it would, so badly did he want her attention that he began resorting to practically annoying her. "Look, Princess," he'd say, over and over again, pointing to a pelican diving into the waves, a dolphin breaching the surface, flying fish spearing through the swells, anything that he could use to at least momentarily distract her with. It took very little time, however, for him to realize no matter what he pointed at, no matter what wonders the sea showed them as they sailed through it, it all did hardly anything to push back the storm from her gaze. The clouds kept brewing in her eyes and part of him was nearly growing frustrated with himself. Surely he was supposed to know how to soothe her? Would he never be able to lift her spirits, even in marriage?
Wine proved to be of no use, the churn of her stomach in no need of the bitter ferments his ship stored. Simply standing at her side against the railing of the ship, his arm looped around her waist, elicited little more than a brief and ghostly smile across her lips. Inquiring about her most recently-acquired volumes and tomes, hoping to spark some sort of interest, seemed to exhaust her more than anything when she gave short and bored responses. Nothing he attempted seemed to stir her from her distance, for even though he could feel her warmth reaching him before the sea wind carried it away, Rhaenna felt as though she were on the other side of the continent. While she'd nearly insisted they sail to Driftmark so that she could meet the members of his family, he wondered if it was something she truly wanted to do after all. If it was simply distance between her and the Red Keep she wished for, Lucerys would be happy to provide it. Just so long as it meant he could get her eyes to smile at him again.
Leaving her to her own devices was another option he soon tried. Perhaps she wished only for enough space for her mind to delve elsewhere, enough privacy but not isolation, and he began distracting himself with things on his ship, his crew and their inventories. A few orders were given out here and there, and he'd even taken to tilling the ropes for a small while before he paid his betrothed another glance... seeing her in the exact same spot he'd left her in. Frustrated and nearly hopeless, Lucerys found himself reaching desperation. He hated her distance, the pensiveness of it, the willing but not wanting. Driven to impulse, the admiral reached up and began unbuttoning the middle of his doublet, plucking them loose until he shrugged out of the dark blue fabric and let it fall to the deck behind him. Without her notice he managed to pull off his leather boots, as well, a smirk slowly forming at the edges of his unshaven lips. Whether or not this would work was yet to be determined... he just hoped he would still have his head by the end of it.
"Rhaenna!" He suddenly called out, picking up his legs and bolting into a run across his deck. With every stride he neared her, a wide smile spreading across his face as he came for her, opening his arms the closer he ran. Thankfully the railing was low where she was standing, and it was an easy clear as he dashed up to her, not stopping to take her into his arms and launch them over the side of the ship. Nearly head-first they fell into the water, breaking the surface with a loud splash. Untangling himself from her, Lucerys came back up for air, laughing nosily and turning to see the drenched Princess treading water beside him. There was not enough words to describe the amusement on the admiral's face, his long hair swept over his arched eyebrows from the saltwater. "Well the water was a bit cooler than I expected," he admitted with a loud chortle, smile plastered over his wet beard. "It feels good though, no?"
Oct 4 2015, 06:16 PM
Blood seeped from his abdomen. He'd been bleeding for what felt like hours. His fine woven doublet and trousers were nearly black with his dark lifeblood, huge giant stains that flowed more freshly through his fingers as he pressed a feeble hand to the stab wound. He was not sure if he'd reached sobriety again, or if the amount of blood he'd lost was still making him feel lightheaded and as numb as Ashes made him feel whenever he took long pulls from a smoking pipe. Stumbling through narrow alleyways and shoving his way through crowded streets, Lucerys caught a brief glimpse of himself in a window he passed, noticing the faded colors from his face and the heaviness of his eyelids. His mind was unclear and he did not know where he was going, yet it came as no surprise to him that no one moved to help him. He was a foreigner, and the Pentoshi had their own ways of dealing with things. If anything, word had already reached the public about the boundless Westerosi fool who came looking for more powdered opium, speaking a language hardly anyone understood. Flashing too much coin and doubting the amount sold to him, Lucerys was swiftly taught the farce of his methods and, now coinless and without Ashes, he staggered painfully with his gushing stab wound.
His knees were the first to give out, and he remained conscious long enough to feel the hard collision with the marble floor as he finally collapsed to the ground. Lying on his side he caught a fading glimpse of the pairs of feet that came up to him, some bared and some booted, and a faint part of his mind recognized where he was. Brea's. He'd made it back to Brea's home. Closing his eyes, he felt a hard shove at his shoulder as someone rolled him to his back, revealing the wound that continued to seep from his gut and onto the fine polished floors. He heard another woman gasp and another laugh, and he almost feared he would not find help here. In a tongue he recognized but did not understand, someone pushed demands at the other, and for a brief moment he was sure he'd heard Brea's name pass their lips. Yes, get Brea, he'd tried to say, the attempted syllables coming out in nothing more than a painful, raspy sigh. Would he die here, so far from his home? Would Coraly have to return with his box of bones, sailing the Blue Lady herself? Would the Princess have to meet him at his grave instead of the altar?
The Princess. "Rhaenna," he groaned inaudibly, the pain of the stab wound almost gone to him now that he had so little blood to feel it. Feeling cold and pale, Lucerys let his eyes close one more time, barely conscious when Brea at last came to his side. With the help of two other male patrons, they hauled the sorry admiral up from the ground, practically carrying him up the stairs with only a slight groan to signal his cling to life. Head lolled downwards, Lucerys was barely more than a limp corpse when they at last reached Brea's rooms, dumping him rather indiscriminately onto a pillowed lounge. Whether or not she protested the placement was lost to him, for he was certain the room around him was spinning faster than he could count the revolutions. Or was he just floating and spinning himself? He could not tell, but his nerves were on fire and they tingled almost numbly, the loss of blood from his veins leaving him raw and in the shadow of the Stranger. Was he truly going to die here? "Brea," he croaked correctly this time, the word barely more than a whispered ghost on his bluing lips.
Jul 28 2015, 10:33 PM
The dances were hard. The music was quick and loud, sultry and slow in some parts, and entirely unpredictable everywhere else. Lucerys barely knew how to keep rhythm to the foreign minstrels at first, and if it wasn't for the more experienced Princess Rhaenna, the young admiral feared he would never learn the wild and untamed steps of the Dornish. The heat of the region had coaxed an easy sweat onto his flesh, and even despite his crimson threaded doublet being sleeveless, Lucerys' strong forearms were feeling slick whenever his betrothed's palms slipped over them during their dances. It did not stop him, though, from sharing another with her, and then another, for her cheeks were no more colored a flushed pink than his, and her skin was, as well, no more dry than his own. By the third or fourth dance, the new Commander of the Seawatch seemed to have found his land legs, and moved easily enough across the floors of Sunspear with Rhaenna in his arms.
He was nearly forgetting to breathe, his body moving with such momentum along with hers that it was not until they bowed one last time did he realize how thick the air felt. And hot. Turning to look at his partner, Lucerys smirked and pulled her some closer to his side, panting lightly. "I dare say you have more stamina than I, Princess," he breathed, chuckling in exasperation as he slipped an arm around the back of her waist. Both donned in a rich color of crimson, Lucerys and his royal betrothed matched as they should. He'd looked to the King and Queen and noticed their synchronous attire, had looked to his mother and father and noted their similar displays of the Velaryon turquoise, and while he hoped one day soon he would see Rhaenna, as well, wearing his colors, the young admiral was more than content in matching her crimson tonight.
Nearly as crimson as the wine they poured liberally down their throats. He had long since lost track of the passing hours, and with it the passing cups, and he could feel its fire searing from his stomach and into his blood. The Dornish minstrels were quick to pick up another song, but Lucerys was quicker to lead his betrothed out from the middle of the ballroom floor and into the crowded edges. Gods, it was hot... he wondered if the words of House Stark could possibly still have sway here. Rhaenna's skin, too, where her dressed plunged to expose her back, felt almost burning, yet he could not bring himself to pulling his hand away as they wove their way to the various arrangement of casks, flagons and carafes. How many types of wine did they have here? And how many had he already tried?
"Which next?" He asked with a smirk, gesturing to all the offerings of various Dornish vintage. Strongwine, firewine and all the sour reds lined the clothed table, and again he wondered if any of them were actually supposed to be so heavily combined in one gut. Filling a crystal chalice with the vintage his betrothed selected, Lucerys lifted it up between them and tilted it in her direction. His sea-green eyes were almost swimming with interest as he watched her. "Tell me how it is, and perhaps I will have a taste of it from your lips..." a slow smirk spread to the corners of his unshaven -albeit groomed- mouth, and placed the fine crystal chalice into her slender fingers.