It is currently WINTER in WESTEROS during the year 303 AC. The new moon cycle marks a full twenty years since the Mad King was murdered, and his son King Rhaegar ascended the Iron Throne in his place. Though the year is fresh, war in the Narrow Sea has left the Free Cities of Volantis and Tyrosh in ashes, and the Long Night continues to beckon from the Northern fringes of the Seven Kingdoms. With the Queen Lyanna presumed dead, the citizens of the realms look only to each other for survival.
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Alias: Shelbs
Age: 22
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Mar 28 2018, 05:30 PM
“It feels like I can breathe again,” he rolled his shoulder, stretched it this way and that, groaning in satisfaction as he felt the long-rested tendons and muscles at last reawaken upon his command. “It is not fully healed just yet, my lord,” the young acolyte cautioned, tossing away the godsforsaken linen sling he’d been forced to wear since returning from Tyrosh. “You will still need to be considerate of your activities for some while longer. Even the steering of your ship may tear anew the old injury.” Gesturing with his hand, assuring he well-heard the instructions given, Lucerys continued to test the full rotation of his shoulder, swinging his arm back and forth, simply relieved that he could finally move it again. His broken ribs still ached, of course, but those dulled considerably over the weeks, and the only thing that had seemed to hinder him from gulping in a full breath of air was the damned sling still tied around his neck. “My lord?” Lucerys looked up, suddenly finding the acolyte hovering over him with ebbing irritation reaching his dark stare. “I said - you must restrict further activity for at least another fortnight. It was not just a simple dislocation, my lord, it-” “I know, I know. Torn tendons, frayed ligaments, I have heard it many a times. Trust that you will not have to see me again.” Flashing the boy a quick wink, Lucerys quickly hopped off of the wooden table he’d been sat upon, dipping his chin in eager farewell and at last departing the infirmary once and for all.

In the wake of his father’s death, he had seen his brother Jacaerys ascend to Driftmark, yet it was Lucerys that remained the only remaining Velaryon presence in the Red Keep. As much as he wished to retreat to his chambers, to share his final recovery with his royal wife, it was not long before he was intercepted by his late father’s deputy and taken elsewhere. The Small Council had yet to reappoint a Master of Ships, leaving Lord Daeron’s right hand to fill his post, if only in all but name. Yet very few seemed to realize the man had only operated under Lord Velaryon’s utmost direction, and with Lucerys now being the only Lord Velaryon near, it was he the deputy often turned to. “It should be you at that damned table, Luce,” he gruffed, reaching up to scratch the back of his neck. The quiet solar crackled only with the sound of the glowing hearth, and it was only now that the young admiral began to feel a dull ache in his newly liberated shoulder. While the two of them pored over accounts and documents and ledgers beholden to the royal navy, the hours slipped by apparently without notice, and only when he had yawned for the third time did he finally stand to leave. “You are doing well,” he assured his father’s deputy, hiding a mournful frown. “And you will keep doing well, I am sure of it. Find some rest.”

Life was getting harder. The air getting colder. His mind felt heavy as he journeyed to his apartments, still not entirely familiar with the palace’s various keeps and corridors, perhaps taking longer than he would have liked. Would the King look to him to fill his father’s place on the council? Was it an office properly meant for his brother? Lucerys’ chest sank, in his own way mourning the loss of his father, and feeling all the more uncertain if he even wanted to be Master of Ships. Had Commander of the Seawatch not brought him enough pain as it was? Worse yet, he knew he could not trust Jacaerys with the calling, and feared yet again it would be himself who his House turned to, who the Iron Throne turned to, who the entire bloody navy turned to. Able to escape these thoughts only temporarily as he entered his bedchamber, he felt his doubts and pains recede within the darkness of the room, only to swell again at the sight of his wife upon their bed. Hesitating, Lucerys savored the few moments to simply look at her uninterrupted, his mind now clear of the Small Council but in its place filled with all that was going wrong with his marriage. Noting not for the first time that Adara was not in the room with them, he quietly began to disrobe, shedding his layers of clothing until he crept to the bedside in only his pair of linen shorts.

Though his heart cinched, his arms still came around her when he slipped into the empty space beside her, aligning the lines of his body to the softer curvatures of her own. Ignoring the coolness of her skin, simply ready to ignore it all if it meant she would love him again, Lucerys put a warm kiss to the bare plane of her shoulder. All too greedily he inhaled a gust of her aromas, thankful those at least had not changed, and he felt his arms flex even tighter around her. Never had he known something, or someone to be so precious, and so willing was he to open his own throat for her that he felt the devotion surging within him, manifesting in his blood and pooling deep in his lower abdomen. With her in his newly-healed arms, her soft buttocks pressed against his pelvis, Lucerys was painfully reminded just how long it was since they had truly shared a bed. Determined to close whatever gaping wedge that was between them, to prove to her his permanent affection, a large hand opened to take in one of her breasts, filling his palm with the soft swell through the fabric of her nightgown. Sighing deeply, he put his lips to the nape of her neck, hoping to rouse her. “I am here, Princess...”
Aug 14 2016, 06:08 AM
Slick with rain and saltwater, Lucerys watched from the wheel as his crewmen stumbled and skidded on the decks below. Some used momentum to their advantage, others were not so graceful as they clambered for balance. The sea was angry, the swells over ten feet, and the massive galley groaned with protest each time it climbed another frothy and furious wave. Overhead the sails whipped wildly in the ever-shifting wind, and the chains that bound them to their wooden bearings rattled noisily, almost as if threatening to break with each gust. The Silver Seahorse had weathered many storms, as had its captain, but the admiral was no fool to face any storm with such confidence. It was what Lucerys loved about the sea, how it could never be truly mapped or predicted, how at every moment, he was completely at its mercy. But that did not mean he would bow to it, or make his men do anything but see them through to the other side of the storm. Though the thunder above was loud, the captain's voice somehow seemed louder, and though the rain was cold and blinding, he would keep searching for the light in the horizon. Had he passed Stonedance?

He knew he could not attempt returning to the Blackwater. It would see he and his men shattered upon Massey's Hook, or worse, even Driftmark itself. Passing a brief prayer to the Seven above, Lucerys knew he would have to simply let the storm take him until it finally subsided, until the swells finally stopped crashing over the tops of his decks and calmed beneath his gallows once more. It was easier said than done, of course. With every muscle he knew how to use, he remained at the wheel, fighting against the pressure of the wind and waves, and other times letting go completely, letting it spin and spin on its metal axis. Below his men seemed like working ants, rushing from sail to sail, rope to rope, shouting at each other, shouting at him, while some others dashed below decks to secure their cargo. Were it not for the flash of lightning above him, perhaps Lucerys would have seen the waving arms of his crewmen below, or heard their warnings if the subsequent roll of thunder did not drown their cries. Perhaps he would have been able to turn the giant vessel in time before the canon launched through the air and into the side of the Velaryon flagship.

"PIRATES!" On a ship nearly as dark as the storm itself, they had drawn close, too close, and spied only at the last moment. Surely it was exactly what those vile criminals had wanted. "TO THE CANONS!" He shouted, his face flushing red, veins in his neck bulging to the surface, the falling rain threatening to wash away every command before it could reach his men. Echoing every boom of thunder was the loud explosion of canons balls, the whistling of them through the air and the resounding crash of splintering wood. As strategically as the storm allowed, Lucerys did what he could to navigate around them, intent on avoiding being pinned between the pirates and the sharp rocks of Massey's Hook. Some of his crewmen took up arms and used ropes to swing over onto their opponents' decks, clashing steel as soon as they landed, slowly cutting through their ranks. Though the pirates had the advantage of their ambush, it did not change whom they thought to attack. Lucerys Velaryon and the Silver Seahorse would not be ended by a single force of bloody marauders.

He could not remember which had ended first, the storm or the battle? The ship with the black sails had been sunk, its loot and its men given watery graves, but Lucerys was not without his own losses. One of his crewmen had been cut down, and another thrown from the decks when a wave came crashing over. The ship itself bore signs of damage, deep holes in the sides from the pirates' canon balls, some shattered wood on the decks, even a smaller mast that had nearly been broken all the way through. All repairable damage, but he could only think about the letters he would have to write to the families of the men he'd lost. Gods, it was growing wearisome, and the mere thought of it made his head pound with an ache he had never known before. With a tense expression he sailed them back to Driftmark, thankful for the calm that followed the storm, and thankful for the few number of prisoners he had shackled in his gallows down below.

His men worked quickly as the warship glided alongside the wooden docks. It took nearly a dozen of them, but bags of sand were dropped and ropes were tied and the Silver Seahorse finally came to a still in the shielded wharves. Leaving the large, pronged circular wheel at the stern of the ship, Lucerys tread carefully across the slick deck, attributing his occasional loss of balance to the water that still soaked the wood beneath his boots. Blinking, he spied a silvery figure in the distance, skirts billowing around her legs as the wind caught the fabric and attempted to take her with it. There was a warmth spreading across the back of his neck, yet as he journeyed from the decks of his ship and went to go to her, he noticed his legs and arms felt unusually cold. Almost as cold as the wet, chilled air around them. "Rhaenna," he breathed, lifting his hands out towards her the closer he neared. Behind him, he heard a vague shout. "Commander!" Suddenly it seemed as if all color drained from his face, his strides slowing, his legs losing their coordination altogether before he could reach her. Unable to take another step, Lucerys instead fell forwards, losing consciousness in a single breath and revealing the seeping wound at the back of his head, blood coating his neck and coagulating into his leather tunic.
Jul 23 2016, 08:30 PM
Looking up, Lucerys watched as his crew worked quickly, methodically to furl the main sail back against the ship's great mast. For a little while longer he'd coast the Silver Seahorse with only the smaller sails to propel them through the calm swells, and it would be only moments after that would he call for the anchors to be dropped. Around him a portion of the patrol fleet cut through the waves alongside their commander, each one with admirals no doubt relieved for the order to return to the Blackwater. They had spent a near a fortnight out in the Narrow Sea, patrolling its waters and protecting those who frequented its channels. They'd seen combat, and Lucerys was sad to admit that he'd lost a ship to those bloody pirates.. but at the same, his heart lifted somewhat knowing that they'd sunk three in turn. And captives to show for it, he thought darkly, and not for the first time. He wondered, what did Lord Varys do with all the men he brought back? With the handful of mercenaries and pirates he had thrown in the black cells for the King? What did his father do with them?

It was hours before he and his crew finally reached the royal wharves. The galley he now commanded from since earning his father's appointment was troublesome to navigate, even for Lucerys, and the tight corners of the docks required his absolute focus. Like always, however, the great flagship was tied off with the many hands of his crew, and despite the chill in the grey air, he felt a sweat build up at the back of his neck as he worked alongside them. Finally, with a sigh, the commander went to gather a few of his belongings from his captain's quarters. It was only as he was striding across the large wooden deck did one of his crewmen call out to him. "Oi, Captain, is that your Lady Lorae I spy up there?" Pausing, Lucerys turned to follow the man's gaze skyward, where he noticed a flash of silver hair and the slender frame that sported it. Narrowing the blue depths of his eyes, he studied her for a moment, almost praying it was not his cousin...

"Seven hells," he muttered under his breath, suddenly seeming to forget the things he needed from his quarters and moving quickly from his ship and onto the wide docks below. Again he glanced up to the lighthouse that stood over the royal wharves, directing any wayward ships in the night from coasting too close, and again he recognized young Lorae teetering on its very edge. In the broad expanse of his chest his heart sank, recalling the words her father had told him when Lucerys came to Claw Isle to take her to court. "She tried it, once," the old, sad man had said. "I am certain of it. Please. I am sending her to court in hopes it will help her." The admiral had been able to do nothing but nod as he listened to the lord speak to him. His heart had sunk for his cousin then and it sank now, even as his legs moved faster and faster down the wooden docks. Terrible things flooded his mind the harder he ran, ripping open the door to the base of the lighthouse and taking its spiraling stone stairs in threes, even fours. "Will you watch over her?" He'd agreed, of course. Lucerys loved young Lorae, as a cousin should, and once he came bursting through into the lantern room, he could not stop himself from rushing up to her.

"Lorae," her name came out with a labored exhale, his arms wrapping around her narrow form and bringing her into his chest - away from the edge she was standing so close from. For a moment or two he simply held her, grateful that she still remained tangible, solid, not falling into the rocks waiting below. Finally, catching his breath somewhat, Lucerys pulled away to hold her at arm's length, his deep blue gaze almost wild upon her own. "What are you doing up here?"
Apr 30 2016, 05:43 PM

More to come! All PBs are only suggestions. Hover over images for more info!

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<h1>the old</h1>
<h2>the true, the brave</h2>

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<h3><s>Daeron Velaryon</s></h3><hr>

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<p><i>Lord of Driftmark, Master of Ships, Lord of the Tides</i></p>
<p>Born to a second son, Daeron was, for much of his life, only the nephew of the Lord of Driftmark. The man had his own daughter who had been raised in his image, and it was well assumed she would be designated his heir upon his passing. This gave Daeron the freedom many sons do not get to enjoy, for he did not ever know he would one day come to rule the island and its people, the great castle of Driftmark and inherit the seat of Master of Ships. And how terribly he paid for it.
As soon as he reached adolescence, he was hardly home. For many years he traveled the coasts of Westeros and Dorne, sailed to some of the Free Cities and even found himself a Pentoshi wife to bring back to Driftmark. When his uncle Lord Daemon was killed in the War of the Seven, it was not his daughter that House Velaryon turned to - but Daeron, and he was NOT prepared for all that his newfound position entailed. He'd gone from an untamed admiral exploring the world as he saw fit, loving as many women as he pleased, to now a lord of a very proud and very ancient House. For years he struggled with the brutal transition, and he nearly cost himself his relationship with the King when his bastard Aurane Waters was marched into court with his mother demanding he be acknowledged.
Eventually, though, the man came to own his position, fathering four children off of his wife Daenessa and commanding his seat as Master of Ships to the Iron Throne. He rules the largest navy in Westeros, with each and every ship that passes through the Blackwater paying him levies and taxes for House Velaryon's protection. He is rich AF and, aside from the Starks, his House is a close favorite of the royal family. His son Lucerys was married to Princess Rhaenna, making him the future grandfather of little princes and princesses >:]
Lately, however, things in the Narrow Sea and the Blackwater have been tense. Pirates from the Stepstones have reached insane numbers, and they're starting to hit merchant ships hard as they try to reach Westeros. Lord Daeron is bearing much of the blame for trade falling in places like the Bay of Crabs and Sapphire Isle, but he's losing his own ships in the effort against the marauders and raiders. With his son Lucerys made Commander of the Seawatch and Aurane as the Royal Shipwright, they're doing all they can to enforce order on the sea... but WINTER IS COMING AND SO IS WAR WITH ESSOS AND AH SHIT FAM SHITSHIT

<h4 class='hleft'>41 / Josh Holloway</h4>

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<h3>Jacaerys Velaryon</h3><hr>

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<i>Heir to Driftmark</i><P>

<b>Canon blurb:</b> <i>Not born as heir to Driftmark, it has certainly shown in the first son of Daeron Velaryon. When his great-uncle was killed in the War of the Seven, it left his father as the Lord of Driftmark - making the wanderlusting Jacaerys its heir. Much like his sire, Jace has shirked many of his duties as future Lord of the Tides, preferring the solace of his ship as it takes him to Tarth, to Dorne, even across the Narrow Sea to Essos. He has loved many women and may even have a few bastards he doesn't know about, that does little in changing the heir from his ways. It is no wonder many whisper that his younger sibling Lucerys would make a better lord. </i><p>

<p>So these two are complicated... within months of Jacaerys' birth, their mother was already pregnant with Lucerys, so naturally, many assumed the two would grow up inseparable. Alas, where Lucerys idolized Jacaerys, Jacaerys idolized their older bastard brother Aurane. Wherever Jace went, Luce followed, and wherever Aurane went, Jace followed. It did not take very long for Lucerys to realize his big brother did not favor him like he favored Aurane, and HE NEVER GOT TO JOIN IN ON THE REINDEER GAMES *weeps* This of course is the root of why Lucerys absolutely loathes Aurane, but as he's gotten older, he of course has developed 20938423 other reasons for himself.
When Lucerys was sent to squire at Silverhill in the Westerlands, he rarely heard from the brother he loved so much. During his many years away, that love turned into resentment into bitterness, and he heard much of the flamboyant and free-loving young man Jace was growing into. This may be why some think Lucerys is a better fit to inherit Driftmark, and it's definitely why he was married to the Princess over his brother and made Commander of the Seawatch, but whatever - Lucerys doesn't really consider that. Even so, Jace loves shouldering responsibility onto others (much like their father at his age,) and he has little qualm with taking maidenheads before future husbands can. He loves to travel and has done so freely, instead of staying at Driftmark and LEARNING HOW TO RULE AUGHASKLDFJA.
Anyhoos - Jace has gotta grow up soon, if he hasn't already, so that will be fun to try and develop. Lucerys has recently been made Lord of High Tide with his marriage to the Princess, as well; its restoration was apart of her dowry, so... there's that. IDK LOTS OF BROTHER TENSION HERE PLEASE MAKE?

<h4>21 / Devin Paisley</h4>

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<h3><s>Laena Velaryon</s></h3><hr>

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<p><i>Little Lady of Driftmark</i></p>
<B>Canon blurb:</b> <i>Dreamy and somewhat aloof, Laena is very much unlike the rest of her siblings. Though proud of her heritage as a member of House Velaryon, it is not the sea where Laena finds her calling, and it is not on the deck of a ship that she feels most at home. Always lost in her own head, fantasizing about a life away from Driftmark, away from the ocean, she wonders daily when her father will finally send her to court. </i><p>

<P>PRECIOUS BABY SISTER <3 Laena is the cure-all to the headache that the rest of their siblings give him, let's put it that way. Not only that, but she is the only one out of the entire House that does not have an affinity or even a taste for ship and sea, for she sees it as the only thing separating her from all the excitement of court. A little dreamy, all Laena wants is to get off the island of Driftmark and see all there is to see of the world. Maybe if their father finally relents and finds her a suitable betrothal, she'll have a reason to journey elsewhere - or MAYBE big bro Lucerys can find her a place as lady in waiting to Princess Visenya or somethin' somethin' >:]
Lucerys himself has just married Princess Rhaenna, and they have returned to the island of Driftmark to rule from newly-restored High Tide. YAAAS new Velaryon branch, fam. In either case, while Laena is hoping to leave the rock he calls home, he still hopes she won't forget about him once she becomes rich and famous and has her own star on the Walk of Fame. Lucerys thinks his youngest sister is just simply perfection, and there are no words to describe his fierce love and adoration for her, which their father might share in, seeing as he's yet to send her to court. However, I wouldn't be surprised of Laena will soon try and take matters into her own hands, for after all, she *is* still a Velaryon.

<h4 class='hleft'>16 / Taylor Godfrey</h4>

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<h3>Arrec Serrett</h3><hr>

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<p><i>Heir to Silverhill</i>


<p>As a kid, Lucerys wasn't so great at his academics... it got so bad, actually, that his father was more keen on flinging him across the Seven Kingdoms to squire under Lord Serrett than he was allowing him to remain in Driftmark where his brain surely would have rot had he kept following Jace around like he did. Though of course little Lucerys was foul and resentful at first, it was not long before he found Silverhill as a second home, and its heir Arrec more of a brother than his own blooded assholes back home.
These two shared everything together. Same septon, same master-at-arms, same lessons, they were whipped the same when they misbehaved and they were eventually knighted together side-by-side. While Lucerys had been shirked by his own brother Jacaerys, he found a new brother in Arrec, and you could say their bond became stronger than it would have been were they actual siblings. It comes as no surprise to anyone that Lucerys finally suggested Arrec as a potential suitor to his sister Coraly, for his father's efforts to seal her to someone have all been futile. Coraly is wild and carefree, her heart lies in the sea and she would be as good a captain as he or Aurane. BUT. She's still his sister, and he is still incredibly protective of her... so, basically, he would trust none other than Arrec with her hand in marriage.

<h4>22 / Sam Claflin</h4>

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Apr 11 2016, 11:43 AM

He knew nothing about the North. Ruled long and hard by the Starks, of course. Cold with a permanent winter in its grips, yes. But the frigid shores did not call to him like they did to Rhaenna. The snows were as unfamiliar to him as the sea was to her, and to see his own breath each time he exhaled was as discomforting as it was a painful reminder that they were a long way from home. They and their small fleet had sailed past Gulltown without incident, but then the airs grew colder and before long, Lucerys' crew was salting the decks to keep the wood from freezing. Each night he stoked a fire in the hearth within his captain's quarters, but by the time they passed the Fingers, he found he still woke with numb hands and feet by the next wintry morning. Rhaenna herself slept little, and her direwolf her ever constant shadow... in this, he felt almost helpless. He had navigated the stars to find the fastest way to White Harbor, yes, he had vowed himself and his fleet to take her wherever it was she needed to go, but would that be enough? What if they never found the Queen? Would he lose his bride to her grief forever?

Lord Manderly had been more than welcoming, vowing his loyalty to the Princess herself, and his wife the Lady of New Castle was quick to show them to their rooms. Lucerys stayed behind when Rhaenna took to find her sister the Princess Visenya, Adara only a single pace behind her, and felt all the more out of place once she was gone. Donned in heavy furs he never once had to wear, the Commander of the Seawatch had requested a council with Lord Wyman and his ministers, hoping, praying they could help he and his Princess. With the guidance of White Harbor's most skilled mapmaker and House Manderly's favored tracker, they were able to devise a route in which he and Rhaenna could follow - a route that would take them far into the depths of the North, so far that Lucerys prayed once more in desperate hopes this would be enough.

He spent that evening showing it to his wife and her royal sister. The two of them could recognize the markings, the changes of land and dips in every valley like he would recognize a map of his own home. Most of the rivers and lakes were thought to be frozen, and though he echoed the same assurance, a dreaded fear still harbored inside him. Had the Queen and her retainer crossed a frozen lake without knowing, and had they fallen through the ice? Lucerys did not dare share the concern, but it was enough to keep his eyes open that night he lay beside Rhaenna in their chambers. They had been given Lord Wyman's own lodgings, yet for all the comfort of New Castle, it was lost on those they hosted. To the sound of Adara's steady breathing, who had been delegated to sleep on the floor, Lucerys thought he might fight himself for a few moments of rest. Beneath the thick pelts and furs of the bed, the biting cold of the North could almost be forgotten, and his bare chest and thick arms had at last stopped prickling with waves of chilled gooseflesh.

On his back, the young admiral at last forced his eyes away from the ceiling above them, and shut them close behind unwilling eyelids. He was not sure how long he laid there like that, or if sleep had come for him, but the soft murmuring of his wife beside him pulled him out of whatever light slumber he'd found. The oceanic hues of his eyes opened once more, and he turned his head to find her still sleeping on the pillow beside him. For quiet moments, he simply studied her, refraining from the almost unbearable urge to collect her in his arms and bring her into his side. But again a troubled whisper passed her lips, and even in the dark room of their chambers, he could see a slight furrow between her two brows. "Princess," he spoke softly, reaching over with a heavy hand to rest it over her forearm. Again he heard another disquieted sound boil in her sleeping throat. "My love," his voice raised a single octave and he gave her arm a gentle squeeze. Still she did not wake, and the expression on her face only seemed to distort into further unhappiness. Suddenly, he was all the more desperate to rouse her from her nightmare. "Rhaenna. Rhaenna, wake up, my love. You are having a night terror.." he moved closer towards her, shifting the weight of the mattress. He could hear Adara already stirring awake herself. "Talk to me.."
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