"Who is that girl? the one with changing hair and violet eyes?"
"Megara Royce Targaryen...Your stepsister, my daughter, The Bronze Demon."
Megara Royce looked every bit of Targaryen with violet eyes and silver hair. She hated it, as a child she woul...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
"Yes, and you shall do well to remember that"
Megara Royce had forged herself into a formidable weapon, shedding the remnants of a weak, childish youth like a skin. Her name spread like wildfire across the lands of the Vale, heralding tales of her strategic acumen and ruthless efficiency. Manipulating men came as naturally as breathing, and she effortlessly wielded their resources in exchange for a fleeting smile. Those foolish enough to disrespect her soon learned the folly of their actions, facing the wrath of her metaphorical dragon whose bite left scars that ran deep.
Under Megara's leadership, Runestone flourished. She expanded its borders further than any Royce before her, drawing in peasants and artisans who sought refuge and opportunity in the fertile lands of the Vale. Her uncle, King Viserys, watched with pride as her accomplishments grew, his affection for his niece swelling with each new achievement. So, when her seventeenth birthday approached, he decreed a grand celebration—a banquet and tournament in her honor.
As preparations for the festivities commenced, Megara arrived at the event in dramatic fashion, riding atop her dragon while her relatives made their more conventional journeys by boat or wheel. Rumors had reached her ears that Rheanyra and Daemon Targaryen, along with their children, were in attendance. The thought brought a cold smile to Megara's lips. She relished the opportunity for them to witness firsthand just how formidable and merciless she could be.
"Dearest niece," cried the king with palpable happiness, his voice echoing through the opulent hall adorned in the colors of House Targaryen. Every eye turned to Megara as she gracefully bowed before her uncle, her hair dyed in the Valyrian fashion with strands of silver braided delicately around her head. She could feel the weight of their gazes, particularly her father's, who observed her with narrowed eyes.
"Congratulations on your pregnancy, Princess," Megara chimed in with a sweet smile, her words laced with a subtle edge that didn't escape King Viserys's notice. The mention of a "pure Valyrian child" was not just a blessing but a pointed reminder of lineage and legitimacy. It was a calculated barb aimed directly at the bastard rumors, and she relished the discomfort it stirred within her father. "Thank you, stepdaughter," Rheanyra responded diplomatically, though her tone held a hint of disapproval at Megara's choice of words. The tension in the room thickened as all awaited Megara's next move.
