Lucerys the Menace: Reborn

Chapter 6: Corlys Velaryon

As the ship sliced through the waves, the salty breeze tossed my hair back, and I momentarily reveled in the sensation of freedom. But beneath that thrill lay a thick undercurrent of anxiety. I was fleeing from the suffocating grip of King's Landing, yes, but I was also hurtling towards a destiny steeped in blood and fire. A dull ache throbbed in my head, a grim reminder that I was still recovering—still vulnerable.I shifted my gaze toward Lord Corlys, who stood at the ship's helm, his face a map of determination. He was a man shaped by the sea, a man who knew the weight of kingdoms resting upon his shoulders. "You'll find no safety at Driftmark unless you prepare yourself," he had said. His eyes glimmered, reflecting both pride and expectation. "You'll need to learn to wield not just a sword but also the power of your bloodline."And that was it, wasn't it? I was a boy steeped in the shadows of giants, half-remembered tales of valor and treachery whispering through my mind. I was Lucerys Velaryon, heir to Driftmark, but I had no intention of becoming another casualty in the Dance of the Dragons. The very thought sent a wave of nausea coursing through me. The future I was stepping into—my memories of it had painted a picture drenched in despair. Knowledge could be a double-edged sword, and I was acutely aware that understanding the past could very well lead me to realize my own doom.Suddenly, the ship lurched. I stumbled, grabbing onto the railing, my heart racing. The crew scurried back and forth with purpose, shouting orders that felt like a foreign language. "Storm's coming!" someone called. "Secure the aft!"

For a moment, panic clawed at my insides. A storm in Westeros could be as treacherous as the games of thrones—the seas nothing more than a gateway to chaos. I felt Corlys' hand on my shoulder, steadying me. "You need to brace yourself, Lucerys," he said, his voice firm. "We're headed into something much worse than a storm."

The warning simmered in the air, heavy with unspoken truths. It didn't take a genius to figure out that the threat wasn't just a tempest; it was a brewing conflict that threatened to tear the kingdom apart. As we sailed closer to Driftmark, I recalled the stories I'd read—the bloodshed, the betrayals, the dragons that filled the skies with fire. If I was to survive, I needed to embrace my new reality—not just as a boy but as a leader.

"We're not just passengers on this ship, Lucerys," Corlys continued. "You're expected to grow up fast; this isn't a game. It's time to learn the stakes." His eyes bore into mine, demanding more than obedience. I nodded, the weight of responsibility settling heavy on my shoulders. "Then let's learn," I stated, my voice tinged with an unexpected resoluteness. I had lived another life—experienced conflicts where the stakes were digital, not visceral. Yet here, in this world of flesh and blood, the imperative for survival was visceral, and I refused to be defined by the tragic fates of those who had come before me.

As Driftmark came into view, rising from the sea like an ancient sentinel, I felt a surge of determination wash over me. I was here to rewrite not just my story but perhaps the very future of Westeros itself. With every heartbeat, I felt the pull of destiny, and I would seize it, come hell or high water.

Corlys gripped my shoulder once more, a gesture that signaled trust. "Then let's prepare you properly. This is your home now," he said, his tone shifting from stern to softer. "You have a legacy to protect."

The wind howled and the sea roared beneath us, but inside I felt a calm resolve take root. As we anchored at Driftmark's bustling dock, Lord Corlys stood tall, the wind whipping through his silver hair, the salty sea air mingling with his regal presence. He turned to me, a glint of nostalgia in his eyes. "You know," he began, his voice a deep rumble, "I've sailed the seas of Westeros and beyond, and every wave holds a story."I watched him closely, intrigued. "What do you mean?""The Summer Maid," he continued, a hint of pride creeping into his tone. "With her, I sailed to Oldtown, Lannisport, and Lordsport. I've seen the beauty of Lys and Tyrosh in their vibrant markets and—" his eyes sparkled, "—the grandeur of Pentos. Each port gifted me knowledge, forging connections that once held the realm together."There was a deep reverence in his voice, as if each destination was a chapter in the epic tale of his life. "I took the Summer Maid to Volantis and the Summer Isles, discovering treasures and cultures unlike any other," he said, a smile breaking through the stoic mask. "And with Ice Wolf, I ventured far beyond. Braavos, Eastwatch-by-the-Sea, Hardhome, all the way to the mysterious Lorath."He paused, and I could see the memories flitting across his mind like the sails of a ship catching the wind. "I even reached the Port of Ibben," he said, his tone turning reflective. "And I ventured beyond the Wall, searching for a northerly passage through the Shivering Sea. But I was thwarted; nature has her own plans. Too many icy barriers."He glanced at me, the pride deepening in his gaze. "But it was ambition that made me who I am. That same ambition led me to marry Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, the promised heir to the Iron Throne," he added, his voice laced with bittersweetness. "You could say I've made waves, both in the sea and in the realm."I could feel the weight behind his words, the aspirations that defined his journey—the trials and triumphs that carved his legacy. Cleansing the moment of its gravity, I leaned against the ship's railing. "But do you regret it?" I asked, curiosity getting the better of me. "All that ambition and seeking power?"Corlys regarded me for a long moment, as if weighing the cost of his aspirations. "Regret?" he repeated, his brow furrowing. "Regret is for the timid, Lucerys. It signifies we've lost something precious. I've forged my path with sweat and blood, but there's a part of me that acknowledges the sacrifices it took.""Then why?" I pressed, my voice steady. "Why pursue ambition when it claims so much?""Because," he replied, a glimmer of fire igniting in his eyes. "Ambition compels us to create. To claim the legacy we believe we deserve. It's a fire that burns within, rewarding us with opportunities, opening doors to greatness."