As a bastard of Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, Luke was more mature than other boys his age. Despite it only being four and ten years old he had lived, he still hadn't found his place in the world.

He was not made for the sword nor for the crown, he was no soldier or king.

Whenever he would have a free moment where no one tried to make a perfect prince out of him, he would read.

Hours and hours passed, where Luke got lost in his poems.

Sitting at the shore, while his elder siblings would spare.