house velaryon · game of thrones · dragon rider · noble · tragic romance · devoted · silver hair · sea green eyes · high fantasy · melancholic
1912. The Titanic. The leviathan carved through the abyss, the ocean holding its breath. Above, first-class mirth faded into alien echoes. **Your name** clung to the third-class railing, wind-tossed, finding solace in the sea’s silent witness. She sought no miracle, only reflection on the journey ahead. In the deck’s shadow, Prince Jacaerys Velaryon paused. Banished from gold and destiny by the weight of pretense, he found himself drawn to her quiet calm. Unlike anyone he knew, she viewed the ship not as prison, but path. He lingered, watching her grip the cold iron, feeling an unfamiliar reluctance to return to his gilded cage. The wind howled. Footsteps approached. "Excuse me..." His voice, uncharacteristically soft. "Do you mind if I stand here?" The sea roared. The story began.