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arkivsantorina · 9 days ago

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The Black Pearl: Chapter Nine

Pairing: Dalton Greyjoy x fem!Lucerys Velaryon

Word Count: Around 4900

Chapter Eight

The night before, as land appeared on the horizon, Captain Korvan pulled Lucerys aside after the crew dinner, explaining that someone would be waiting for her at the docks. It had rankled Lucerys at first, a girl already on edge as a result of her family’s treatment. But time away to think and a half-bottle of rum gave way to a new morning where she was willing to listen to the captain. His willingness to risk punishment from two great houses and no shortage of dragons, and his patience in educating her on the ship convinced Lucerys to trust Korvan, forgiving him for not telling her sooner. This was a new beginning for her; why should this Lucerys hold onto grudges as she did in the past? Unless Korvan and his crew had brought her directly into harm's way, there was nothing to condemn them over.

Her anger was quickly gone, swept away with the humid concoction that was the air of Volantis. The stickiness clung to Lucerys’s skin as she stepped onto the bustling docks with a promise from Korvan to search her out the next time he docked in Volantis.

Beyond, the docks, the city was a cacophony of sound and movement—vendors hawked their wares with booming voices, sailors barked orders on nearby docks as they unloaded cargo, and the surge of the Rhoyne’s raging waters as it emptied into the Summer Sea. So long Lucerys had spent on Dragonstone that this much going on around her was overwhelming. Not even King’s Landing had seemed this busy to her when she was younger. For Lucerys, Volantis was both an assault on her senses and a promise of liberation. She had finally reached a place where she could choose her path, however she wished to do so, for a future entirely of her own making.

Amidst the chaos, her eyes were drawn to a woman standing apart from the fray. It was obvious she had been staring at Lucerys—their eyes had locked immediately when Lucerys looked her way. With dark hair catching the afternoon sun and a stance that exuded confidence, the woman seemed both out of place and entirely at ease. Her clothing was extravagant, sheer silks draped over each other to highlight her figure and heavy gold bracelets traveling up the entirety of both arms. A hawk-like gaze stared down Lucerys with purpose, locking in on her. That’s when the woman smiled, a knowing expression that sent a flicker of unease through the former princess.

‘You’re Lucerys Velaryon, are you not?” she asked, a heavy Lyseni accent coating her tongue.

Lucerys tensed, her instincts sharpened from the unfamiliarity of her senses. “Who is asking?’ She replied, her tone measured and guarded.

The woman’s smile widened. “I am Jynna. I was sent by someone who has been expecting you.” She gestured at the entrance to the docks where a palanquin waited, gilded in gold etchings and draped in lavender fabric meant to block the smells of the city. “Come. She is eager to meet you.”

Lucerys hesitated, her hand brushing the hilt of the blade she now carried with her at all times—a parting gift from Korvan and the crew. She held little trust and much suspicion for all this unknown, but the offer of guidance, of someone who understood her plight, was too enticing to ignore. With a cautious nod and a weary look at the slaves holding the palanquin, she followed Jynna.

The ride through Volantis was disorienting. The city bustled under the shadow of the towering Black Walls. Once passed through one of the few pieces that remained of the Valyrian Freehold, the streets became a labyrinth of palaces and temples and courtyards and towers. What once was something she only read about, Lucerys could see the symbols for the gods of the Fourteen Flames everywhere. Banners of elephants and tigers fluttered in the humid breeze, marking the allegiances of the city’s powerful factions. She tried to memorize the twists and turns, should she need to make a quick escape, but the sheer scale of the city disoriented her.

Finally, they arrived at a grand estate nestled behind imposing walls. The gates swung open to reveal lush gardens and a sprawling villa that exuded wealth and taste. It was opulent but not gaudy, a sanctuary hidden within the bustling chaos of Volantis. Beyond the gates, none of the stench could reach them—only the interesting blend of spice and florals she had occasionally caught a whiff of since she stepped onto the docks. Jynna led Lucerys inside, her steps sure of the path on the polished marble floors that echoed softly in the quiet grandeur of the entrance.

“She’s waiting in the solar,” Jynna said, gesturing towards an ornately carved set of double doors. “Go on.”

Lucerys’s heart pounded as she pushed the doors open. The room was bathed in a warm, golden light that streamed through tall windows overlooking the Rhoyne, softened by gaze curtains. Seated on a cushioned divan and being fanned by a servant was a woman whose presence was as commanding as it was intriguing. Her silver hair was streaked faintly with gold and cascaded down her back in soft waves, and her violet eyes held a depth that spoke of a honed cunningness. This woman was unmistakably Targaryen and only one Targaryen had made Volantis their playground.

“You must be Lucerys,” the woman said, her voice holding a natural authority that spoke of a woman used to having her demands met.

Lucerys’s breath caught in her throat. Even if it wasn’t obvious who this woman was at first glance, she recognized her from the portraits catching dust in the bowels of Dragonstone. “You’re Saera Targaryen,” she said in a voice barely above a whisper. It was unclear if she was acknowledging the older Targaryen or reveling in her presence, for Lucerys had whispered the name with a reverence reserved for prayers.

Saera inclined her head, a pleased grin playing on her lips. It was a smile that spoke of mischief to come, of rebellion for the sake of chaos, yet there was also curiosity dancing in the eyes of Jaehaerys’s exiled daughter. “Indeed. And you are my great-great niece if we’re to be precise, though I despise a title that makes me feel so old. Something that cannot be blamed on me. Our family has perpetuance for marrying their daughters off far too young.”

Lucerys took a step back when Saera stood suddenly, waving away the fan-wielding servant in annoyance. She stalked over to the younger Targaryen with the stride of a jungle cat, grasping Lucerys’s chin and turning her head from side to side, inspecting her with a keen eye. “You have Daella’s looks, but obviously not her temperament. Simple girl was scared of her own shadow. Prettier than Alyssa for sure, though with much simpler coloring. Hopefully not as obnoxious as she was.”

Pulling her chin out of her aunt’s grasp, Lucerys eyed her warily. Of course, she had heard the stories of the notorious Saera Targaryen and they painted her to be a selfish, spoiled woman. What she wished with her, Lucerys could only speculate. “You had Jynna waiting for me at the docks. How did you know I was coming?”

Having seen what she wanted, Saera swept back to her divan in a flurry of colorful silk, the rainbow of jewels adorning her person catching in the light. She huffed when Lucerys did not immediately follow, motioning impatiently for her to sit beside her.

“Word travels,” Saera replied, her voice light as if she was discussing her plans for the evening instead of a kingdom’s scandal. “I have had spies in King’s Landing for years. Hearing of my family’s misfortunes sparks joy. You’ll understand soon enough. News of your punishment reached me years ago soon after my idiot nephew made his decision. I knew from experience that it would only be a matter of time before you needed to escape from our family’s oppressive reign. When I was told about inquiries over a ship to Dragonstone, I paid Korvan to be the one to take the contract. You’re not the first Targaryen to seek refuge far from the Iron Throne’s grasp, and I wanted to get to you before anyone else did. You’re a commodity now, darling, and a rare one at that.”

“Why?” Lucerys asked, her voice tight with suspicion and a twinge of vulnerability. “Why would you care? You said yourself that you enjoy hearing about the hardships of our family.”

Saera’s eyes softened, though her sly grin remained on her face, and she reached out to take Lucerys’s hand in hers. “You are different. I know what it is like to be cast out; to be punished far more than you deserve; to have your choices stripped away and your life dictated by others. I know the pain of carving out your own path when the world would rather see you crushed under its expectations. You have taken the first step on the path I once walked, but it is not an easy one. I want to help you, as no one helped me.”

The sincerity in Saera’s words broke something deep within Lucerys. She had spent so long feeling isolated, her every move scrutinized and analyzed, that the idea of someone truly understanding her was almost unbearable. There had been so much warmth shown to her these past several days in such contrast to her years on Dragonstone. Lucerys nodded, her throat too tight with emotion to say anything.

“You may stay here as long as you need.” Saera continued, her voice resolute, brokering no room for Lucerys to decline. “This estate is mine, as are the people within it. You will find only acceptance here. In time, if you wish to establish yourself in Volantis, I will help you. And if you decide to leave, you will do so with my blessing and support. I have gained many powerful friends in Essos and beyond. You will want for nothing and shall have every tool available at your fingertips.”

Lucerys blinked away the flood of tears threatening to spill, the weight of her gratitude towards Saera overwhelming her. “Thank you,” she managed to choke out. “I don’t know how to repay you.”

Saera smiled again, pushing Lucerys’s hair out of her face. “You owe me nothing except the promise to live how you wish. Your journey is your own, but I am here to ensure you do not walk it alone. Rest now, eat, and let yourself breathe. The world will still be here when you are ready to face it.”

Lucerys prepared to stand but was held back. Saera was frowning at her, a contrast to her previous softness.

“Though I will require an entire overhaul of your wardrobe. I refuse to have any girl under my care, especially my niece, dressed in rags like these.” She quickly smiled brightly up at Lucerys once again, giving the young woman whiplash. “Do not fret. You will enjoy the fashions of Volantis. There is much to choose from and I will only dress you in the finest fabrics.”

Lucerys wasn’t given a chance to respond before Saera clapped her hands sharply, summoning Jynna into the room. She guided Lucerys to a spacious chamber overlooking the estate’s vibrant gardens, and the former princess felt a sense of calm she had not known in many years. For the first time since the decree of her punishment, the relentless weight of expectation and judgment began to lift. Here, in Saera’s sanctuary, she could begin to imagine a life shaped by her own choices—a life where she could dream, rebuild, and, perhaps, reclaim her sense of self.

Saera’s villa, Lucerys discovered in the days that followed, was a microcosm of Volantis itself: vibrant, multifaceted, and brimming with stories. The staff, loyal and discreet, carried out their duties with an ease born of trust rather than fear. They welcomed Lucerys with polite smiles and subtle gestures of warmth, never prying but always ready to assist.

Lucerys relished in the ever-available baths saturated with fragrant oils and the petals of whatever flower she wished. There were far more luxuries than she would have even had in King’s Landing, and certainly more than what had been available to her on Dragonstone: exotic fruits by the basket, decadent desserts, and massages whenever she wished were all just the ring of a bell away. Her every wish was fulfilled. Saera was eager to introduce her to cosmetics that were popular in Volantis and made claims that she would turn Lucerys into a goddess desired by all. She was unsure if she was comfortable with Saera’s claim, or if she believed her, but her curls had never looked so shiny and so well-managed, so she would not fight what Saera suggested.

Her aunt also proved to be an enigmatic but attentive guide. Over shared meals and quiet afternoons in the gardens, she revealed glimpses of her own tumultuous past. There were tales of courtly intrigue and daring escapades, often leaving her with flushed cheeks. Saera spared no detail when it came to her storytelling. As Lucerys suspected, it was far from what was told in Westeros; she found herself coming to despise her great-grandfather. A great king he may have been, but a good father he was not. She was quick to draw connections to her mother and grandfather.

Other stories served as a reminder that survival was an act of will and that to carve a place for oneself was to truly live.

“You are a Velaryon and a Targaryen, yes,” Saera had said on Lucerys’s second evening at the estate as they watched the sunset over the Rhoyne, its golden light shimmering on the water. “But you are also Lucerys, and that name is yours to define in Essos. No one else has the right to dictate its meaning.” She leaned forward, eyes glinting with excitement. “Now tell me, what do you want that name to mean? What power do you want it to hold? How should hearing it make others feel?”

Lucerys faltered under Saera’s intense stare. Two days had not been enough to get used to the woman’s eccentrics, especially when she seemed to be devoting all her energy to Lucerys. It was like basking in the entirety of the sun’s rays—a radiant warmth but quick to be burned. “I…I liked how I felt sailing again. Being on the sea felt right. After being tied to Dragonstone for so long, I do not want to be stuck in one place. There is so much I haven’t seen and so much of my life has already been wasted stuck in one place. My name doesn’t have to inspire anything, but I want it to be heard in every port.”

Saera smiled as if she knew something Lucerys did not, which, to be fair, was true for many things. “You have so much of our Velaryon kin in you. I am surprised, considering the rumors.” She continued, not giving Lucerys time to ask what she meant. “Though I would have preferred you on a path that was not quite so hard on the skin. It would be a shame if a face such as yours was ruined right as I truly made it my canvas. Now, off to bed with you. I have so much arranged for us. So many people for you to meet.”

Lucerys awoke to the soft sounds of the Volantene morning—the sweet song of birds outside her window, the gentle hum of activity as the house prepared for the day, and the ever-present scent of fresh bouquets wafting through the air. Her days at Saera’s villa had begun to quickly develop into a rhythm, though she was far from settled into this new life. Each morning she awoke feeling slightly less like the girl who had fled Dragonstone and more like Lucerys.

Today, Saera had sent for her early, the summons relayed by Jynna with a knowing smile. The Lyseni woman had quickly become attached to Lucerys, following her around everywhere and able to know what she wanted before she asked for it.

“She’s waiting for you in the main courtyard,” Jynna said, her tone light and teasing. “Best not keep her waiting. There are…introductions to be made.”

Intrigued, Lucerys dressed quickly, donning one of the Volantene dresses Saera had commissioned for her. Eagerly racing through the villa’s winding halls, Lucerys soon reached the courtyard where she found Saera seated beneath the shade of a sprawling orange tree, its sweet blossoms perfuming the air. Two men were seated near her, their postures relaxed but attentive, and their appearances hypnotic in a way that immediately marked them as Saera’s kin.

“Ah, there you are, darling,” Saera eagerly exclaimed, her smile radiant as she gestured for Lucerys to join them. “Come, sit. There are some people I’d like you to meet.” The elder of the two had a darker complexion, his hair a deep chestnut and his eyes a piercing green that sparkled with mischief like his mother’s. The younger man had the unmistakable Targaryen silver hair, cut just above his shoulders, and eyes the color of twilight, like Lucerys’s. He was tall and broad-shouldered, with a confidence that seemed as natural to him as breathing. Both were undeniably handsome, but it was their air of easy camaraderie that intrigued Lucerys the most.

“Lucerys,” Saera began, gesturing first to the elder, this is Myles, my eldest son. And this,” she said, turning to the younger, “is Corin. My youngest.”

Corin inclined his head respectfully, his expression warm but measured as if unsure of if Lucerys was an interloper. “A pleasure to meet you, Princess,” he said, with a voice as smooth and deep as the coffee Saera had introduced to Lucerys several days earlier.

Myles, however, grinned broadly. “So you are the girl who has been causing all of this excitement. It is an honor, truly. We’ve heard so much about you. There are few my mother cares enough about to speak highly of. Having earned her praise in such a short time has my siblings and me curious.” Lucerys felt a flush creep up her cheeks but managed a polite smile. “Not all of it flattering, I’m sure.”

Saera chuckled, her laugh bright and airy like bells. “My sons are many things, but they are not gossips. They know better than to judge before meeting someone. Now, Lucerys, the reason I’ve brought these two to you is simple. They are yours to command. Whatever you need, whatever you wish to learn or accomplish, they will help you.”

The weight of the statement hung in the air, and Lucerys’s eyes widened slightly that she had just been given two grown men—technically her family—to command. “They work for you?”

“No, they do not. Myles is a representative for the Iron Bank of Braavos and Corin is one of Volantis’s Triarchs,” Saera corrected gently. “But what is important is that they are loyal to me. And now, by extension, to you. Myles and Corin have skills that will serve you well. Corin is an accomplished swordsman and tactician, with the added benefit of being a ruling member of the city. Myles…well, Myles has a knack for acquiring information and navigating the subtler arts of persuasion.”

Myles smirked, pride obvious on his face He preened like a peacock under his mother’s words. “I’m good at getting into places I’m not supposed to be. And even better at getting back out.”

Corin shot his brother a warning look but said nothing, his focus remaining on Lucerys. “If there is anything you wish to learn or need assistance with, simply ask. Like our mother said, we are at your assistance.”

Lucerys hesitated, the enormity of the offer settling over her. She had spent so long feeling isolated, her every move scrutinized and judged, that the idea of having allies—allies with true power—felt almost foreign.

Saera seemed to sense her turmoil and reached out to gently squeeze her hand. “They are your kin, Lucerys. Blood may not always bind, but loyalty does. Take your time, get to know them. You will find they are invaluable assets.”

The rest of the morning passed in a blur of conversation and further introductions. Over a breakfast of fresh fruit, honeyed pastries, spiced tea, and coffee, Lucerys found herself gradually warming to the brothers. Corin’s solemness and Myles’s infectious energy balanced each other perfectly, and their easy banter reminded her of the familial bonds she had once cherished.

After the meal, Saera brought her to her greatest treasure in Volantis. The scent of Jasmine and incense greeted Lucerys as Saera pushed open the intricately carved wooden doors, revealing the lavish interior of her pleasure house. Soft light from candles illuminated the room, flickering behind handblown glass to cast a warm, multicolored glow over rich silks draped from the ceilings and walls. Musicians played gentle melodies in the background, their instruments filling the environment with the kind of effortless harmony that only years of practice could achieve. The atmosphere was intoxicating, a blend of elegance and indulgence that seemed uniquely Volantene and entirely Saera Targaryen.

“This,” Saera said with a sweeping gesture, turning dramatically to see Lucerys’s reaction, “is my sanctuary.” Her voice carried the unmistakable pride of someone who had built her world with her own hands piece by piece. “It is not like the brothels you may have seen in Westeros where they cater to man’s most basic instinct. My jewels are artists, entertainers. They sing, dance, recite poetry, and even debate philosophy and politics. Their talents are as varied as the patrons who come to appreciate them.”

Lucerys didn’t dare to blink as she took in this new world before her. A young man stood on a small stage, his hands mimicking the story he was orating in perfect Valyrian, mesmerizing the crowd sitting in front of him. Nearby, a woman painted on a canvas, her brushstrokes bold and deliberate. Couples and small groups were scattered around the room, seated on cushions or low couches, their conversations punctuated by laughter and applause. Occasionally, Lucerys would catch a glimpse of a patron being led by the hand out of the main room.

“They’re beautiful,” she murmured. “Everyone in here is so beautiful and talented.”

Saera smirked, clearly pleased but this reaction. “I wanted to create a place where pleasure wasn’t just physical. My time in the Lyseni pillow house quickly grew boring and monotonous. I craved something different. This is about the mind and the spirit as much as the body. Here, everyone—patron and performer alike—is celebrated for their uniqueness.”

Lucerys followed Saera through the sprawling building, past alcoves where harpists played delicate tunes and couples had stolen away, their figures silhouetted through the silks. More than once, Lucerys caught the eye of one of Saera’s workers, her face blushing heavily as she pulled her eyes away.

In front of her, Saera greeted each of her unoccupied “jewels” warmly, exchanging smiles and light touches that spoke of genuine affection.

They moved past the public rooms of the pleasure house quickly until they reached a private sitting room adorned with plush cushions and a low table set with a delicious-looking spread and wine. A gorgeous harp sat in the corner by the window. It was clear that this area was reserved only for Saera and those who wished to join her. None of the noise from the house reached them there.

Lucerys had only just sat down when a young man scurried into the room, obviously anxious. He had gone straight to Saera and whispered urgently in her ear, not even sparing Lucerys a glance.

Whatever news he had given was enough to unnerve a woman like Saera, who instantly turned to Lucerys with a rigid, forced smile. “I need you to hide now, Lucerys.” Her voice was tight as she walked over to a painting frame, swinging it open to reveal a hidden panel. Saera opened it hurriedly and gestured for Lucerys to get inside. At her confused look, Saera explained, “Do not come out until I open this for you. You’ll be able to hear and see what is going on in the room, and will understand this necessity soon.”

Saera barely had time to make it back to the lounge and resume a relaxed, nonchalant demeanor before the sounds of raised voices echoed from the corridor. The door slammed open, but Saera wasn’t rattled, clearly expecting such dramatics.

Daemon Targaryen stood at the entrance, his unmistakable silver hair catching in the candlelight. He wore his usual air of authority, though his expression was more strained than Lucerys had ever seen it. “I know she is here, Saera,” he said, his voice low and firm, more a growl than that of a man. “We have searched every port in Essos, questioned every ship that has left Westeros. Imagine my surprise when word reached me of Saera Targaryen toting around a girl, proudly showing her off to everyone in Volantis. Tell me where she is.”

Saera’s laughter rang out mockingly. “Who do you speak of? Her? For all my skills, I cannot read a man’s mind. My dear nephew, you will have to do better than that.”

Daemon took a menacing step forward, his eyes narrowing in anger. “Do not play games with me. My daughter. Lucerys.”

Saera’s expression shifted, her smile hardening into something colder, no longer content to humor her nephew. “I know our family tree can be complicated, but I know of this girl to be the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen and Laenor Velaryon. Congratulations, by the way, on your wedding to them. Another two Valyrian beauties added to your collection. I assume you will no longer have need of this pleasure house. You were such a loyal customer when married to that Valewoman.” She sneered. “Regarding the girl, the last I heard was that she was confined to Dragonstone for taking the eye of a prince. Where was your fatherly concern then? Besides, I have no desire to house such a wild thing should the rumors be true. I’ve no love for the games played in your brother’s court, Daemon. The Targaryens of Westeros mean little to me.”

Lucerys’s hand pressed to her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her great-great-aunt’s voice was a dagger wrapped in silk, each word aimed to cut deep. She’d never heard anyone speak to Daemon in such a way.

“She is my blood,” Daemon countered, his voice rising. “Do not pretend you lack any semblance of a connection to our house. Two of your sons pressed their claim at the Great Council. They know their ancestry and they would have learned it from you.”

Saera’s eyes flashed, and for a moment, Lucerys thought she was seeing Visenya Targaryen come again. “I have built my life here without any help from my so-called family. A life you have benefited from numerous times. If Lucerys came to Volantis, it would be her choice. And I wouldn’t blame her for wanting to escape the suffocating future that your wife and brother surely had planned for her.”

Daemon’s jaw tightened, unhappy to be reminded of the times he would fly here in exile. “If you’re hiding her…”

“You’ll do what?” Saera interrupted, standing up and taking a step closer to Daemon, uncaring of their height difference. “Burn my house to the ground? Kill me? You are not the only dragon in this city, Daemon. Do not mistake my hospitality for weakness.”

The tension between them crackled like a storm about to break.

A knock sounded at the door. Saera’s face lost all malevolence and a smile crept upon it once more. “Come in,” she called.

A young woman of similar age and build to Lucerys stepped in, her eyes doe-like and with curls just as wild, if not with more highlights from the sun than Lucerys possessed.

Smug with victory, Saera looked back towards Daemon. “This is my newest girl: Lucinda. She is quite talented with art and Valyrian poetry. I was eager to show her off to my friends. It seems whomever you get your information from needs to learn how to investigate more thoroughly.”

He studied Lucinda, noting how similar the whore was to Lucerys. Finally, Daemon exhaled sharply and took a step back. Unwilling to admit defeat, he uttered one last warning. “If Lucerys is here and you’re protecting her, know that you are only delaying the inevitable. Westeros will not let her go so easily.” He hesitated, his gaze lingering on Saera as if trying to read the truth behind her words. Then, without another word, he turned and strode out of the room, his black cloak billowing behind him. Lucinda left too.

Once Saera was sure Daemon was gone, having heard the whistle of his deformed dragon and seeing the red beast fly across the sky, she called for Lucerys. “He’s gone,” she said as she opened the frame Lucerys had been hiding behind.

Accepting her aunt’s hand gratefully, Lucerys stepped out. “Thank you. For everything.”

Saera raised the glass of wine she had just grabbed in a silent toast, handing Lucerys one as well. “Welcome to Volantis, darling. The dragons of Westeros may roar as they wish, but here, we dance to our own tune.”

Chapter Ten

AO3

#hotd fanfic #dalton greyjoy #female lucerys velaryon #lucerys velaryon x dalton greyjoy #dalcerys

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