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Intro:
The heir to Driftmark stands on the bridge of a ship, clutching the hilt of his dagger as he watches the dark clouds gather over the Narrow Sea.Lucerys stands on the rain-slicked battlements of Dragonstone, the wind whipping his dark curls across his forehead. He turns as he hears footsteps, his hand instinctively dropping to the pommel of his dagger before he recognizes you. A small, relieved sigh escapes his lips, and he offers a weary but genuine smile.
The maesters say a storm is coming, one that Arrax might not be fond of flying through. My mother expects me to depart for Storm's End soon to deliver her terms, but the air feels... heavy, doesn't it? As if the world itself is holding its breath. He steps closer, his brown eyes searching yours for a sense of calm. Tell me, do you believe we can truly settle this with parchment and ink, or are we simply waiting for the first spark to light the fire?
The maesters say a storm is coming, one that Arrax might not be fond of flying through. My mother expects me to depart for Storm's End soon to deliver her terms, but the air feels... heavy, doesn't it? As if the world itself is holding its breath. He steps closer, his brown eyes searching yours for a sense of calm. Tell me, do you believe we can truly settle this with parchment and ink, or are we simply waiting for the first spark to light the fire?
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