DANCING WITH DRAGONS ;; a collection of imagines.

lucerys velaryon ; peppermint leaves

⁀➷ summary ; drabble requested by a mutual as part of my 1k follower celebration on tumblr.

"HIIII could you do 17. And 25. From this prompt list"
"17. handing the other one a hot cup of tea, their hands touching for a moment." + "25. brushing against each other, even if there is enough room."

⁀➷ pairing ; lucerys velaryon x reader

⁀➷ notes / warning ; small pining if that's a warning :p

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there was something undisclosed blossoming between you and the velaryon prince of driftmark.

what it was, you couldn't tell, or at least, you didn't want to bring it up and efficiently end the friendship that was slowly blooming.

a cough tears you away from your thoughts, one that's burrowed deep within the chest cavity. you wince at the sound, hands moving to cup the hot tea that warmed the porcelain cup. you lift it from the table, careful to not spill the contents.

"allow me," lucerys' voice is next to you, voice gentle. you raise your head, eyes meeting his as he carefully takes the cup from your hand. his hold is ghostly, fingers barely cascading over the top of your own. there's blisters that litter the skin, evident when they roughly graft your skin with little kisses. lucerys is hesitant for a moment to pull away – the warmth sending tingles through his digits.

he blinks away the hesitance, reminding himself of where he is.

he moves closer to his grandsire, corlys velaryon. ever since the latter had returned from his voyage, he'd been plagued with a rattling cough and an unsettled fever.

lucerys tenderly aids corlys in his attempts to sip at the tea. it was concocted from your own making; drops of lemon, leaves, hot water, and crushed peppermint. you'd hope the ingredients would quell the sore throat and inhibit the coughs.

corlys sips as much as his sickness will allow, for he pulls away and seemingly almost chokes on the warm liquid. he sputters before softly groaning, settling back into his throne of pillows. his eyes flutter closed and he seems to fall back into the canopy of sleep.

lucerys is disappointed, obvious by the frown sketched on his face. he turns and is nearly chest-to-chest with you, looking down at you while both your breaths mingle in the air together. he feels his heart lurch in his chest, this was awfully close.

he moves to set down the cup of tea, abandoning the drink next to the sleeping sailor. he exhales slowly, reveling in the delight of the tenderness that blossoms within the still, short air between you two.

it's intoxicating the way it excites the nerves, fraying the ends and tingling each and every fiber of your beings.

his hand gently touches your shoulder as he moves past you – warm flooding the skin. the small air that follows behind him is carrying a sandalwood and salt taste; an uncommon mixture but one that isn't foul to the nasal gland. you inhale and savor the pleasantry.

once you realize you're physically fawning over the prince, you inhale then exhale, smoothing out the wrinkles in your dress with splayed hands.

"shall we try again tomorrow, luke?" you ask in a near whisper, hands making a grab for the platter that carried your array of ointments, oils, and other commodities for ailments. you balance it expertly on your hand, moving after lucerys when you notice he's farther away.

he hums in thought, arms crossing over his chest. he turns to look at you, his eyes moving to the back of you where he watched his grandsire soundly sleep. together, you and lucerys exit his chambers, the soft click of the door disturbing the silence.

"yes, tomorrow will be better."

you smile, gently thumbing the rim of the platter, "i'll pray it so, luke."