DANCING WITH DRAGONS ;; a collection of imagines.

lucerys velaryon ; shadow of the sea snake

⁀➷ summary ; drabble requested by anon as part of my 1k follower celebration.

"i was wondering if I could get no. 8 on the intimacy prompt list for lucerys velaryon?"
"8. telling each other how proud they are of them"

⁀➷ pairing ; lucerys velaryon x reader

⁀➷ notes ; n/a

━┉⠀❩⠀◗⠀●⃟⠀◖⠀❨⠀┉━

ruling a castle, an armada, and being pampered for a seat on the queen's council at the ripe age of nine and ten was a feat unparalleled by any other.

lucerys was trying his best; after the death of corlys velaryon, his grandmother, rhaenys, did all she could to help lucerys settle into his seat as lord of the tides. she was oftentimes his councilor in place for rhaenyra, and did all she could to help amend his predecessor's sour affairs.

he worked day and night; from sunrise to evenfall.

that was were you found him today.

within a chamber near the hall of nine, there's a study tucked away in a corner. his nose is buried deep into a thick, aged volume. he's trying to decipher the words scrawled across the pages in chicken scratch. his words are quiet and mumbling, desperately trying to understand the sprawled letters. you assume it's valyrian, for the words and pronunciation sound foreign from the common tongue spoken in westeros.

rhaenys offered little supervision during the times he struggled like this – he needed to learn to fly outside the nest, by himself, she said.

"you're working yourself to the bone,"  you say, loosening your shawl that intertwined with your flesh. it was warm in here; a coating of thickened dust settling on top of everything in the room. you scrunch your nose, rubbing at it slightly to subdue the sneeze that would no doubt make itself known. "take a break."

"the sea snake never took a break," he responds, his tone dry. he rubs at his temple and when you look over his shoulder, your eyebrows raise at the book he was reading. it looked incomplete, sentences strewn together loosely and with no ending punctuation. you felt bad for him, truly. he had so much to live up to and he had too bear on his shoulders.

"he didn't," you murmur in agreement. your hand finds his shoulder and you gently rub at it, doing your best to convey your support through the action. he seems to lean into it, savoring the warmth that splays. "and it got him to an early grave."

the sentence seems to anvil his thoughts to coherence, forming the once restless mind into something simple and understandable. he stops, raising his head to look at you. his mess of short, raven curls, his baby hairs sticking the the warm sheen of his forehead. there's small bags under his eyes – clear evidence of missed sleep.

he pushes his chair back just enough, his hand tiredly patting his empty lap. you oblige, carefully stepping over and settling yourself on the flat surface of his thighs. you wrap an arm around him and place a kiss on his temple. he nuzzles his face into your neck.

"'m proud of you, luke." your voice is soft and fleeting, seeming to quell the headache that was slowly starting to pound in his head. luke hums in agreement, or rather gratitude, and sighs into your clothes. he stays like this for a moment before he pulls away, gazing at you with tired, dreary eyes.

"thank you for being by my side." you feel his arm around your waist, his hand splayed against the clothed skin whilst his fingers dance shapes. he bites his lip and drums his fingers on you, clearly restless. "i'm proud of you too, y'know."

you smile, your hand going to his hair to muss the unruly strands, "for what?"

"it's not easy to be lady of the tides." you're unsure if it was teasing, but his words are light and clearly entertained. his lips curl upwards into a tired smile.

"easier than being lord of the tides," you quip back. luke gives a tired chortle, "i love you, luke. you need to be easier on yourself."

you feel him nod against your hold and the anxiety that had bubbled before, slowly dissipates. he murmurs a 'i love you' after a moment.

it's good to know your words are heard, and by the nod of confirmation that he gives you, you hope that he will cease the endless studying that's starting to take a toll on his well-being.

hopefully.