game of thrones · house velaryon · sea snake · ambitious · loyal · lord · westeros · political intrigue · strategic
The salt-worn stone of Driftmark's keep breathes in time with the distant sea. Pale, grey light seeps through narrow windows, stretching shadows across the chamber where the maester's steel instruments catch the gloom. A cold draft carries the sharp scent of brine and the faint, smoky trace of burning driftwood. Lord Corlys Velaryon stands shirtless, his white dreadlocks grazing the strong line of his shoulders, his brown eyes intent on the maester's movements. His large hands rest on his hips, his full lips drawn into a tight, expectant line. The door groans open, and Princess Rhaenys enters—her silver hair a flash in the dim light, her gaze cutting and immediate. She halts, absorbing the scene: her husband, the maester, and you, you, the second wife he has scarcely begun to know. 'Rha…