Lucerys Velaryon

Rhaena Velaryon

Daena Velaryon

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## Biography

A matrimony of old was that which so brought forth Lucerys Velaryon into the world of monsters and men in the year of 355 AC. He was to be the first child born from the union of the Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, Daemion Velaryon, and his hard-earned Princess bride, her Grace, Jaehaera Targaryen.

Though, despite the pedigree of his blood, of the names he bore on his shoulders, Lucerys Velaryon was not the son his father had wanted. Where Daemion was ever a man of golden buttons, silver linings, and far eastern silks, Lucerys was what a Velaryon *should be.* Lucerys’ soul spoke to the freedom of the sea, to the people of Driftmark and the sailors they became, and so too to the teachings and encouragements of his mother.

Ever had Jaehaera Targaryen been a restless soul, one fighting for freedom, wishing for the winds, and praying upon chance. Lucerys had been not even some seven years aged when his mother saw it, when she felt the pull, when she found herself, the spark that drove her, inside her eldest. And so, it would come to be that while Lucerys and his father exchanged bitter words, while Daemion whored and propagated lies of perfection on his part, Lucerys learnt from his beloved mother of the Saga of the Sea Snake, of the adventures of the Oakenfist, of the honour of Addam of Hull, and of the title and honours of the first Velaryon of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Daemon.

So it was, Lucerys grew to idolise his ancestors, venerating them almost as his own personal Gods, and wishing for a day House Velaryon knew men of such greatness once more. Yet, as Lucerys aged, so too did his ideas, his hopes, his *dreams,* for the House that would one day be his, grow. More and more the gaze of Lucerys Velaryon turned to the white water of the broken waves, to the sparkling aquamarine of the shallows, and to the deep blue hues that were the adventurous seas. But Lord Daemion would not have it. He had not worked at befriending the King, at making himself amiable, at giving up so much and more of his precious time just for the boy, for his only son, to be some sort of mystical adventurer. As far as Lord Daemion was concerned, the Saga of the Sea Snake was a boast, the adventures of the Oakenfist were a fiction, the honour of Addam of Hull a concoction of the Oakenfist, and the title and honours of the first Velaryon of the Seven Kingdoms, Lord Daemon, actions centuries gone, that held no purpose for the current day.

Suffice to say, Lucerys and his father were men worlds apart; it was a thing that only grew ever more clear as Lucerys grew. On his three-and-tenth nameday, when his father mocked him for his admiration of his “fictitious” ancestors, and his “rank and impudent behaviour”, Lucerys felt a rage burn hot inside him. It was not a fire he had ever before felt, but it was one that now consumed him. Lucerys struck at his father’s goblet, knocking it clean from his hand, and before all his kinfolk was taken by the ear and dragged from the hall. None would ever ask of how he came to wear those bruises, but it was clear enough. The next year, Lucerys gave his mother a parting hug, and went south, to the Stepstones, with the Velaryon fleet. His father had not given him the command, no, by the Gods not. The command had gone to his uncle, a skilled sailor and sturdy man, Ser Gaemon Velaryon. It would be at Gaemon’s side that Lucerys would learn much about the intricacies of sailing, and the art of commanding men and inspiring their loyalty. For many years, Gaemon had served the family in the Free Cities, overseeing their trade interests, but after having received a plea from his good-sister, the Princess Jaehaera, he had made the decision to return to Driftmark, and to watch over her young heir.

With the Pacts of Rats squashed and smashed beneath the waves, the men of Driftmark returned home. Lucerys received a stern welcome from his father, and a bitter tone to follow, but from his mother, he received the love he so craved, and so too was his favourite sister, Alyssa, a most welcome sight.

The years between the Second Lyseni Spring and 373 AC came to pass without much fuss from the wider realm, but for Lucerys, these years held much and more. As Lucerys’ voice deepened, and his body became that of a man, seemingly day by day did the tensions between father and son grow. By mid 371 AC, it had become so tedious and treacherous for the two to share a castle for more than a few weeks at a time, that Lucerys often found himself setting to sea alongside his uncle, learning more and more, and becoming ever the sailor. From Driftmark to Duskendale, to Tarth and the Rainwood, and back north to Gulltown and Old Anchor, and even to White Harbour, did uncle and nephew venture, leaving white water in their wake.

Alas, while Lucerys was at sea, growing into the man, the *Velaryon,* he thought he should be, his cousin, Vaemond Velaryon, three years his senior, was by Lord Daemion’s side. Where Lucerys ploughed the seas and saw new sights, Vaemond saw to the Lord Daemion’s ledgers, aided him with the politics of the realm, and squired at his side, even if Lord Daemion’s lance was the pen, and his sword a shining goblet doused in Dorne’s finest crimsons. This absence, Lucerys’ absence, would prove devastating to his plans, to his hopes, and to his ambitions.

When the final row came in later 373 AC, when Lord Daemion’s goblet flew across the table and smashed against stone, when Lucerys’ fists grew tight and his eyes narrowed, when words of bitter resentment flew from both parties, blood was almost spilled that night. *Almost.*

Had it not been for the calming words of Jaehaera Targaryen, for her offering herself up to her husband to so steal his focus away, the Gods only know what would have become of that cold winter night. But the next day, with curses on his tongue, Lord Daemion banished his son, commanding him to go east, to flee, to leave, to be gone from his sight. Lucerys needed not be told twice. Calling upon the men he had sailed with over the last years, and taking two strong, swift, and sturdy ships without his father’s approval, Lucerys set to the seas, leaving his mother and sisters with one final hug each, and his uncle with a stern nod, all the while holding back tears.

And so with the rising sun of dawn on that very next morn, under the veil of darkness that still hung over the docks of Driftmark, the heir to Driftmark, to the Tides, and all, stole away. Two ships, the Storm Searcher and the Seahorse’s Witness, Lucerys took, two cousins so too, lads named Vaegon and Aurane. Ironic. The eldest, Vaegon, had been named for the very King whom Lord Daemion Velaryon had stood by for years, the very King he had sought to ingratiate himself with, but now, now Lucerys was heading east with another, with one named to be loyal since birth. Yet mayhaps the loyalty was still there, just . . Different.

It did not take the Lord of the Tides long to realise his mistake. Struck with regret and guilt, though he would never admit it, Lord Daemion tasked his nephew, the newly knighted Ser Vaemond, with finding his son. Though as was whispered behind Vaemond’s back, his was no true knighthood, but rather was it one made from gold and flattery, neither steel nor worth. Ser Vaemond was no warrior, he was not even without vices, for long had he been beset by the drink, but when Lord Daemion spoke to him, something glistening in his eyes, and he saw opportunity. He bowed, he swore, and he humbled himself before the Master of Driftmark, but alas, no ravens ever flew, no bounties were ever posted in the foreign cities of Essos nor the queer Dorne nor the frigid North. But that was not what Lord Daemion and the court of Driftmark were so told.

Everwhile, Lucerys sailed east. He did not make port again until the city of Tyrosh, but only for a spare moment or two. Further supplies were taken aboard, and the ships were made ready for a long voyage. Driftmark had been good to them, it had supplied them with almost all they had needed, but they had worked through the night and had forgotten a handful of foodstuffs and spare supplies. Now, well-stocked from Tyrosh, the ships set through the Stepstones and to the east. With luck, and thanks to the Gods from some, the Stepstones proved largely uneventful, save for a minor encounter with some foreign trader with an accent Lucerys knew not of whom tried to barter them out of their ships for gold. Lucerys refused the man, naturally, and continued on.

Lys came next. Many of the men begged Lucerys to weight anchor, to let them go ashore for but one night, others for even a single hour, but Lucerys was steadfast in his refusal. He would not lose men to the whorehouses of Lys not even a few weeks in. The heir to Driftmark- Well, in a way he was that no more - the Captain of the Storm Searcher and the Seahorse’s Witness knew not how far he wanted to sail, he knew not where he wanted to go, nor whom he wanted to meet, nor what wonders he wanted to set eyes upon, but he knew one thing - home was not an option. Lys came both into view, and left it once more, and the anchors did not drop.

Volantis came next. The First Daughter. The City of Old. A place where those of Valyrian blood still ruled. A place where *noble* Valyrian blood still ruled. But Lucerys made no effort to meet with such blood. He made no show of the Seahorse banner, nor did he give approach to neither the Elephants nor the Tigers. He simply watched. He had not come east to try and reclaim some long lost empire, nor had he come east to watch those of the ‘Old Blood’ sneer at him and listen to them mock him. His House may not have been the proudest, nor even near one of the proudest and most powerful Houses of Old Valyria, of the Freehold herself, but they had made the smart choice. They had set west and claimed Driftmark, long before even the Targaryens had arrived and been left with but a barren island. Lucerys only wanted to see what Volantis was, what Volantis *really* was. The lives of the nobility interested him not. It was to the docks, to the spice markets, to the merchant squares and bustling roads, to the inns and the Long Bridge across the mouth of the Mother Rhoyne that enamoured Lucerys Velaryon. And so, after four days in the city, with the sea winds calling him once more and the inertia of not sailing weighing heavy on his shoulders, the Velaryon set off once more.

East of Old Volantis was the Ruins of Valyria, but Lucerys dared not tempt death. Wayward he might have been, but suicidal, nay. South, he sailed, and east again. And once past Valyria, Lucerys turned his ships north, heading toward Slaver’s Bay. But it was not the dark-skinned masters whom interested him, but rather the final holds of Valyria, the last lines of her Old and Ancient blood. Elyria was first, an island city. Lucerys found the place to be queer in a great many ways, with rules and ways strange and foreign, much unakin to what he had expected, but then again, what had he expected? Driftmark? Nonetheless, a stop well worth it. Tolos came next. Tolos was the first place Lucerys would set eyes upon the mighty slingers of the far east. Theirs was a spectacular craft, and something distinctly absent in the Seven Kingdoms, at least of what Lucerys had seen of them. He heard tell of the demon road, of Mantarys, of sinners and monsters, of all sorts of abominations. A merchant claimed he had a Mantaryan hunchback just waiting in his shop a few streets from down, and that for a few coins, Lucerys could have the creature. So too did this merchant claim to own a trio of delightful dancing dwarves. Suffice to say, Lucerys did not bite, and no coins were exchanged that day. Neither did he set down the demon road. Some stories were left untold.

Once through with Elyria and Tolos, Lucerys found himself in the heart of Slaver’s Bay. Meereen was first. Spectacular, beautiful, mighty, but Lucerys liked her not. He liked not the chains on the people, he liked not the way in which the city went, and so, after but two nights, his ships left port. Next came Astapor and Yunkai, if only for the sake of it. Both times, only two nights each. The cities themselves were spectacular and something to behold, but Lucerys felt foreign here, he could not help but feel different, he did not like the way he caught the eye of everyone he passed by, for he did not trust it. Somehow, for some reason, he could not shake the feeling that he was but a newborn amongst a city of men. The Velaryon would not return to Slaver’s Bay.

It had been some moons passed now since he had left Driftmark. His hair had begun to grow long and unkempt, and a beard had begun to come through, even if it was rather just stubble. More noticeably yet, Lucerys Velaryon was no longer “my Lord” to his men, but rather he was “Captain” and “Luke”, informalities he had never heard before. He liked it.

As time went on and the ships headed east ever still, Lucerys found himself freer than he had ever felt. There was something about the open seas, about the freedom of it all, of not knowing what might happen next, of where he might weigh anchor next, something that called to him on a deeper level, a level that.. That perhaps only his mother would ever understand.

The Dothraki Sea appeared next on the horizon, when Lucerys turned his ships in toward the coast rather than the open waters, he was done at a brief bit of play. He dared not send parties aland. Even he had heard the stories of the cruel and violent horse lords of the Great Grass Sea. Qarth would be his next harbour, he decided.

Instantly, Lucerys liked Qarth. Aye, they practiced slavery like those cities of Slaver’s Bay, but there was a refinement he found in Qarth, a peace, a prosperity, one that spoke to him. A week passed, with Lucerys sleeping aboard the Storm Searcher, but he had not been idle. In the day he had wandered the city, taking it all in, everything from the city’s great triple walls, to their gigantic docks and their ships at build, to the colour-filled buildings, and the great bronze arch fashioned in the likeness of two snakes, though it made the Captain of the Storm Searcher rather uncomfortable. Though, what Lucerys did find most unique and rare in sight were the foundations wrought in the shapes of griffins, dragons and manticores. Qarth was nothing like what one heard of it in the Kingdoms. Yet while Lucerys wandered at day, at night, he drank and was merry. Soon enough, he had made fast friends with a Qartheen merchant and was so invited into the man’s home. Lucerys ships would stay in harbour for a whole moon, at no small cost.

What exactly Lucerys did within the walls of his new merchant friend’s manse, most of his men would never know - save his cousins Vaegon and Aurane - but suffice to say, when he and his ships left from port this time, there was a familiarity between Lucerys and his newfound friend’s sister.

Lucerys Velaryon had set his mind to circumnavigating Great Moraq. It was not a new thing by any measure, but it was a feat he wished to complete, one he rather found appealing. And at the end of his journey, he would return to Qarth. It was not set to take more than a few moons.

The western coast proved a fine sight, with the northern half dotted with plains, hills, and forests, and so too the city Faros, though Lucerys did not weigh anchor there. But the eastern coast. Some time in, there was where Lucerys and his ships found issue. A storm struck one afternoon, and with the nature of the winds on the eastern side of the island, Lucerys fast found himself in trouble. The waves towered over them like obelisks in the night, smashing down with a giant’s heel, and the waters were not so pleasant that night. They were colder than Lucerys had ever felt them in a long while. The Velaryon battled and battled, making to do what he could, but when the Seahorse’s Witness vanished from sight, he could not help but feel a pang of defeat. Perhaps the Merling King with whom his family had made a pact with so long ago did not rule out here.

The next morn, Lucerys awoke with his face in the sand, a sore back, and a groan in his throat. Thankfully, he himself had not been taken. But the Storm Searcher, she was battered and bruised, in need of repairs of which they could not make out here, and in time, with the survivors of Lucerys’ armada of two finding their way to his position, he heard tell of the grim reports of the Seahorse’s Witness and her watery grave. Never again would she rise. Not unless some foreign mage could bring her back from the depths, from the grasp of whichever gods ruled these seas.

Of his men, a third were gone. With luck, not all of the food had been lost, and the Storm Searcher proved a somewhat bountiful harvest, even if her stores were nearing low. And so, on the second day, Lucerys set out for Faros - on foot - Vaegon by his side, and some five other men, the strongest he had. The rest had but one order; survive.

The journey was not near as harsh as it could have been, but along the unseen path did Lucerys, Vaegon, and their five encounter many a queer and foreign beasts, though, thankfully, most proved friendly enough. A moon’s turn later, Lucerys and his now party of five, for one of them, a man named White Wat had taken ill of some sort and died three days later. It took about a week and another half week to convince the people of Faros to aid them, with the difference in tongues making it no easier, and so, time enough later, Lucerys and his five returned to the Storm Searcher and her men. Aid had been found. Over the next two weeks, Lucerys and his men worked on repairing the Storm Searcher, on making her seaworthy. In time, it was done, and back to the seas they set, and back to Qarth. Their journey had taken them much longer than they would have liked, and Lucerys was most glad to be returned to Qarth, and so too were his hosts pleased to see him alive and returned. But he had lost a ship and lost plenty of men. Lucerys Velaryon needed supplies and he needed gold. And so, he set to the seas once more, after only three weeks in Qarth, as a spice trader, travelling goods between Slaver’s Bay and Qarth and Faros too. But it was not enough for Lucerys. With a year gone to the merchant’s life, with men hired and his numbers rebuilt, and a second ship acquired, Lucerys set about the Summer and Jade Seas. Over the next few years he would set sail many a times, though always returning to Qarth, his merchant friend, and so too the familiarity of his friend’s sister.

From the Isle of Whips to Lengand Marahai, though daring not to touch the Asshai-by-the-Shadow, nor either the Manticore Isles, not after the tell Lucerys had heard of the poisonous beasts, and onto to the Isle of Elephants and the Cinnamon Straits, even once travelling as far back west as the Summer Isles, Lucerys enjoyed a storied life in the east. But alas, in 377 AC, as all things do, Lucerys was forced to depart Qarth. His merchant friend’s sister passed from this life to the next, and Lucerys found himself welcome no more. The cold shoulder was to be his embrace. And so back he went, back past the Dothraki Sea, Slaver’s Bay, and the Ruins of Old Valyria, back past Volantis, and this time, this time weighing anchor in Lys.

Finally, after moons a plenty, after travel that had barely stopped, the Storm Searcher and her new companion, the Qartheen Seahorse, found rest. But it was here in Lys where news most disturbing reached the ears of Lucerys Velaryon. Lord Daemion Velaryon was gravely ill. By some manner of fortune a trader was passing by whom had been at Driftmark not a moon passed. Lucerys made haste, and made for Driftmark.

Alas, by the time of his arrival home, with foreign men and a foreign ship, his Lord father was dead, and his cousin, the drunken git that was Ser Vaemond Velaryon, now making claim at Lord Vaemond Velaryon, sat in his father’s throne, in his rightful throne.

“Move, Vaemond.” Lucerys had said. But Vaemond had since wed Lucerys’ eldest sister, and sired by her loins a son, so too named Vaemond. Vaemond had refused. But Driftmark had not. The Captain of Guards, a Ser Rupert, drew against Vaemond. Rupert had known the both of the cousins when they were youths, but boys, and it seemed now, he had always had a favourite. And so, with Lucerys returned, and the Princess Jaehaera’s threat of the Iron Throne, those guards uncertain soon turned, and Vaemond was kicked back down to his wines.

Lucerys Velaryon was crowned Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark, and a moon later, Vaemond Velaryon was found dead. It had been fast. A fever. A rot. Something in the bowels. The maester had attributed it to the drink. And so it was.

The next moons passed well enough as Lucerys settled into his new role, his new title and position. But then, in 379 AC, word reached Driftmark of a dead Princess and a family at war. Lucerys had not wished to choose but his mother had told him so; “Better to stand by your oaths to your uncle and beg forgiveness of your cousin, than find yourself at the chopping block.”

King Vaegon, Nuncle Vaegon, it was to be. Command of the Royal Fleet was given over to the Lord of Tides, with the order to hold the Gullet. The war raged. The Stormlords bled, the Riverlands wept, the West attacked, and the Reachmen conquered. That was, until, King Vaegon I Targaryen found his blood wetting the sword of the man the realm would come to regard as Kingslayer; Ser Vorian Dayne, Knight of the Kingsguard. The war was ended. With fortune on his side, not only was the Lord of the Tides pardoned of his siding with the late King, but with King Vaegon never having sent orders to action, Driftmark had fought none and as such had spilt no blood.

Lucerys Velaryon went to King’s Landing as Master of Ships and Lord Admiral. Six moons would pass. And now, the Prince Aegon Targaryen, the contested heir of the late King Vaegon I Targaryen, is to step forth and be named heir, while Lucerys Velaryon finally brings his sisters to court.

## Timeline

**355 AC:** Lucerys Velaryon is born.

**369 AC:** Lucerys goes to war at his uncle Gaemon Velaryon's side.

**373 AC:** Tensions between Lucerys and his father, Daemion Velaryon, finally reached a precipice and Lucerys goes east.

**373-377 AC:** Lucerys sails to Tyrosh, Volantis, Slaver's Bay and her cities, Qarth, around Great Moraq, many of the isles of the Jade Sea, and through the Cinnamon Straits, and even to the Summer Isles, while also serving as a merchant captain for some time.

**377 AC:** Lucerys leaves Qarth, where he had made a home of sorts, under a black shadow cast by the death of a friend's sister.

**378 AC:** Lucerys makes port for a few days in Lys, hears word of his father's poor health from a merchant. Lucerys returns home, finds his cousin claiming to be the new Lord. The Captain of Guards stands with Lucerys and his cousin is given the boot.

**378 AC:** Lucerys rules as Lord of the Tides and Master of Driftmark.

**379 AC:** War breaks out, Lucerys commands the Royal Fleet and guards the Gullet for King Vaegon, sees no fighting.

**380 AC:** Lucerys is named Master of Ships by the new King, Daeron III Targaryen.