"avy jorrāelan" ― "i don't understand you." a groan passed through the young princes lips as you reminded him ― again ― that high valyrian did not come naturally to you. it was just so much easier for Luke to admit his feelings in a language you didn't understand.

sometimes he wished he was more like his older brother Jacaerys, who was straightforward and never shy or bashful. but Lucerys was still young, you were both still so very young, and yet entrusted by your families to fully devote and love each other. by the gods, Luke wasn't even sure if what he was feeling was love.

but laying with his head in your lap, and having you quietly ramble and read to him hidden behind bushes and trees in the gardens... he felt like nothing else, like no one, could ever make him this happy.

so maybe it wasn't love, not yet, he thought ― but something close, anyway.