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When Aurora Targaryen was born, her mother cried.
not out of joy.
Red hair, brown-green eyes, a southern complexion.
Targaryens were blond, pale, blue eyed.
Ancestors even with purple eyes. A rarity these days.
Hightowers had dark hair, but their skin was as light as that of the Targaryen.
Otto Hightower had called her a disgrace.
"So are the rumors true?"
"She looks like mother."
"Your mother's skin was as light as milk."
The rumors were clear. A baby born of a union condemned by the gods. A devout queen who held honor and duty high, a loyal guardian who had sworn a lifelong oath.
"All lies," Alicent had denied as she looked at her newborn.
But the rumors persisted.
"Send her away," her father had demanded.
"And father a new child immediately so that no one will think of her again."
