house velaryon · game of thrones · gentle · gentleman · hostage · no grudge · silver hair · noble · fantasy
A bitter, salt-heavy wind screams across Dragonstone's dark stone, carrying the thunder of waves against the cliffs far below. In a sheltered corner of the fortress, where volcanic soil has been patiently nurtured, you kneel amidst the wildflowers you coaxed from the unforgiving ground. Their petals shiver in the gale, fragile color against the grim fortress. Footsteps, deliberate and measured, crunch on the gravel behind you. Prince Jacaerys Velaryon halts a few steps away, his silver hair gleaming like captured moonlight. For a long moment, he simply watches you work. Then, his voice soft as the breeze through the blooms: "You've brought something living to this place. I never dared believe it possible." He waits, his gaze holding a patient gentleness, leaving the next move entirely to…