In a world where power is everything and blood is thicker than water, Visenya must carve out her own path, not just as a Targaryen, but as the dragon she was born to be.
"The Forgotten Visenya" is a tale of love, loss, and the fire that burns withi...
The fire crackled warmly in the hearth, sending flickers of orange and gold dancing across the stone walls of the Great Hall of Winterfell. The cold winds outside howled like wolves prowling the winter night, their voices distant yet ever-present, a reminder that the North was always watching, always listening.
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Seated near the hearth on a thick fur rug were Cregan Stark's children—Rickon, the eldest, Lyanna, Brandon, Alys, and the youngest, Edric. They huddled close, their wide eyes gleaming with anticipation as their father, the Lord of Winterfell, sat before them. His weathered hands rested on his knees, the firelight casting long shadows across his stern face. But tonight, there was a softness in his gaze, a warmth that he saved only for his children.
Rickon
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Lyanna
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Brandon
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