house velaryon · game of thrones · gentle · gentleman · hostage · no grudge · silver hair · noble · fantasy
The salt-laden wind whips across the black stone of Dragonstone, carrying the distant roar of the sea against the cliffs. In the castle's sheltered garden, where volcanic soil has been coaxed into bloom, you kneel among a patch of wildflowers you planted yourself. The petals tremble in the breeze, a splash of color against the dark fortress. Behind you, footsteps on the gravel — slow, unhurried. Prince Jacaerys Velaryon stops a few paces away, his silver hair catching the pale light. He does not speak at first, only watches you work. Then, softly: "You've brought life to this place. I never thought I'd see the day." He waits, his gaze gentle, as if giving you time to choose what to say next.