Lucerys the Menace: Reborn

Chapter 2: Driftmark

The sea spray hit Lucerys' face as the ship neared Driftmark. The island, glowing in the last light of the day, rose from the water like a dragon in sleep. The cliffs were jagged, shaped by centuries of waves, giving way to rolling hills with scattered sheep and ancient watchtowers. In the distance, High Tide, the Velaryon stronghold, stood tall on a cliff.

Lucerys felt a rush of pride. This was no longer just his grandfather's home—it was his legacy now. He had spent the entire voyage soaking up every detail about Driftmark's history from Corlys. The Velaryons, once fierce rivals of the Targaryens in the sky, were now their closest allies, bound by blood and dragons. But their real power didn’t lie in dragons; it was in their unrivaled mastery of the seas.

As they disembarked, Corlys, his face creased with pride, clapped Lucerys on the shoulder. "Welcome home, grandson. Let me show you what it means to be a Velaryon."

The days that followed were packed with lessons. Corlys, the legendary Sea Snake, put Lucerys through his paces—sword fighting, sailing, and navigating. Lucerys picked up on everything faster than he expected, his mind sharp and determined. The knowledge from his past life, combined with his drive, made him a quick study. His movements grew smoother as he parried Corlys' blows, and he soon took control of a small vessel, skillfully navigating the island’s treacherous waters.

One day, Corlys led him to a hidden cove, its entrance shrouded by thick vines. Inside, a fleet of sleek, fast boats sat nestled against the rocks—designed for quick strikes and evasions. These weren’t the lumbering ships of other houses; these were tools of war.

“These are the Sea Serpents,” Corlys said with reverence. “My ancestors used them to make Driftmark a power to reckon with. They’re the heart of our strength, passed down through the generations.”

Lucerys ran his fingers over the smooth hull of one boat, imagining the rush of the sea, the wind in his hair as he led a raid. His mind buzzed with naval tactics, visions of formations and strategies from his past life that could outwit any enemy fleet.

Corlys put a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got the eye for the sea, Lucerys. Quick mind. You remind me of your father, Laenor. May he rest in peace.”

Lucerys felt a pang. His memories of his father were vague, filled with whispers and hidden looks. “Tell me about him, Grandfather,” he asked, his voice tight.

Corlys’ face softened. “He was a true Velaryon. A dragonrider, a natural leader respected by all who sailed with him. But his heart... it was with the sea, just like yours. He was happiest at the helm, with the wind in his hair and the ocean before him.”

Lucerys felt the stirrings of something deep inside. His father—someone he never really knew. Maybe by mastering the ways of the Velaryons, he could honor his grandfather and carve his own path, combining the fire of the Targaryens with the cunning of the Sea Snake. Not just a dragonrider—he could be a commander, leading with the combined might of fire and sea to secure his family’s future.

As the sun set, casting a fiery glow over the water, Lucerys stared out at the endless ocean. The ship creaked, the salt air stinging his face, and the steady rhythm of the waves pulled him into thought. As the last light of day faded, he turned to Corlys, his tone suddenly serious.

“Grandfather, tell me what’s happening in King’s Landing.”

Corlys raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Ah, the viper’s nest, huh? Ready to dive into politics, are we?”

Lucerys blushed. “Well... yes. Mother’s worried, and everyone keeps talking about the... Greens?”

Corlys’ face hardened. “The Greens. A fitting name. They’re led by Queen Alicent Hightower.”

A jolt of recognition shot through Lucerys. Queen Alicent, his mother’s stepmother and the mother of his half-uncle Aegon. The doubts swirling around the legitimacy of his family, whispers from the Hightowers.

“They want Aegon, the Queen’s son, to be the heir to the Iron Throne,” Corlys said with disdain. “Even though the King made it clear that your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, is his heir.”

Lucerys scoffed. “But Aegon’s younger. Everyone knows Mother’s the rightful heir.”

Corlys snorted. “The realm doesn’t work on clear lines, Lucerys. The Greens have power, wealth, and the Queen’s ear. They’re playing a dangerous game, stirring doubt and discord.”

Lucerys clenched his fists. Anger from his past life mixed with the frustration of the present. "What can they do? The King wouldn't..."

Corlys' eyes sharpened. “The King is dying, Lucerys. He won’t be around much longer, and the Greens are counting on that. They’ll use the chaos after his death to push Aegon onto the throne.”

A cold dread settled in Lucerys’ stomach. The war for the throne, the Dance of the Dragons, was almost upon them. He wasn’t just learning the ways of the Velaryons—he was being trained for war. A war driven by ambition, lies, and the poisonous influence of the Greens.

“What will Mother do?” Lucerys whispered.

Corlys placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Your mother is a Targaryen. She’s strong, clever, and won’t back down from what’s hers. But she’ll need allies. That’s why you’re here, learning what it means to be a Velaryon. Driftmark stands with Rhaenyra, and our fleet is a force to be reckoned with.”

Lucerys’ eyes gleamed with newfound resolve. The sun had risen, painting the sky with vibrant hues, and a plan was already forming in his mind.

“Grandfather,” he said, his voice full of confidence, “I’ve got an idea.”

Corlys raised an eyebrow. “Let’s hear it.”

Lucerys leaned in, his grin conspiratorial. “The Greens rely on whispers and doubt. So why don’t we fight fire with fire?”

Corlys’ interest piqued. “Go on.”

“Propaganda,” Lucerys said. “We use songs, stories, spread them far and wide. We have minstrels sing about Princess Rhaenyra’s strength, her wisdom, her blood. We make her the rightful heir, the one who will unite the realm.”

Corlys smiled slowly. “A clever idea. Songs and stories have more power than most realize. They can shape minds, build loyalty, and weaken the resolve of our enemies.”

Lucerys nodded. “Imagine minstrels singing of Princess Rhaenyra, soaring through the skies on her dragon. The common folk will eat it up. They’ll spread it everywhere, fighting back against the Greens' lies.”

Corlys chuckled deeply. “You’ve got the right mind for this, Lucerys. A sharp one, for someone still learning the sword.”

Lucerys flushed slightly but felt a swell of pride. “I might not be the strongest yet, but I know how to use information. And thanks to... some bedtime stories,” he winked, “I know the power of a good tale.”

Corlys’ grin widened. He saw the spark in Lucerys, the strategic mind that could become a real asset. “Alright, grandson. We’ll use your... bedtime stories. Let’s get the realm singing the true story of Rhaenyra Targaryen, the rightful heir.”

As the ship sailed on, Lucerys felt the first stirrings of a new battle—one of words and stories, of fire and blood. The Dance of the Dragons had begun, and Lucerys Velaryon, with the knowledge of a past life and the strength of a future prince, was ready to make his mark.