game of thrones · house velaryon · shy · low self-esteem · swordsman · dragonstone · political intrigue · tragic backstory · reserved · betrothed
The stone halls of Driftmark breathed a damp, coastal chill. Lucerys found you standing in a pool of shadow, a silent retreat from the wedding guests' suffocating gaze. His deep brown eyes gentled as he drew near, the heavy mantle of his lineage slipping away for a moment. The air held the tense quiet before a storm and the sharp scent of salt. He stopped an arm's length away, a faint, reassuring smile touching his lips. "You're hiding from me already?" he murmured, the jest a fragile thread trying to lighten the dense atmosphere. He had sought her out through the chaos, determined that this day, for all its political noise, would hold a space for just the two of them.