Princess Elaena Targaryen has always been too gentle for court - too kind, too soft, too willing to love even those beneath her station. When her brother's cruelty pushes her and young Aegon to flee, she trades silk for dust and crowns for anonymity, calling herself Ella among the smallfolk. On the road, she meets a hedge knight with a gentle heart and towering height, and for the first time, Elaena learns what it means to be seen not as a princess - but as a girl. But secrets are fragile things, and dragons are not meant to remain hidden forever.

❛ she knew what she wanted, she knew how she wanted it, and so she took it. not violently, but quietly, calmly. ❜ [AKOTSK] [LYONEL BARATHEON/OC]

IN WHICH A STARK ATTENDS ASHFORD MEADOW TOURNEY. ( 01.03.26 ) ( baelor targaryen )

Aelora wasn't as accepting to new comers as her brother Dunk was and something was off about Egg. She was going to find out what. 🍪 "Now all my scars are golden." 🐉 Most characters and rights belong to grrm

"We were born of the same fire. Some of us learned to master it. Others only learned to burn." They were born dragons before they were children. Viserra Targaryen grew up surrounded by princes too proud, too broken, or too drunk to survive their own names. Betrothed to Aerion as much for political reasons as for personal obsession, Viserra learned early on that blood and power protect you from nothing. Between absurd laughter, sibling rivalries, and silences heavy with promise, the Targaryen family moves toward the tourney at Ashford, where some will fall, others will survive, and fire will finally claim its due. Because in Westeros, history does not ask who deserves to live. Only who lives, who dies, and who burns.

❝when you laid like a wolf with your head on my lap I felt like one of those portraits of women protected by a beast on a chain❞ AERION TARGARYEN X OC BAELOR TARGARYEN X OC

They call Lady Mirella cold. She does not smile for court, does not flatter, does not pretend. In a world that rewards softness, she chooses restraint. She loves fiercely, disciplines sharply, and refuses to perform for men who mistake silence for weakness. But as her children grow into legends - and something darker - Mirella learns that control is an illusion, and fire does not care how steady your hands are. Power has never been controlled.

Prince Baelor Breakspear should have died beneath a summer sky. The realm witnessed the blow, the healers named it survival, and life continued as though nothing had changed. Though to Baelor, the world no longer felt entirely his own. Dragons still existed, though only a chosen few could claim them, and Vermithor answered to him as if he always had. At court stood Rhaenyra Targaryen, his wife and his princess, a woman he knew by name but not by memory, whose devotion carried the quiet desperation of someone who had already mourned him once. They said the injury had left him confused. She said he only needed time to remember. But the longer Baelor lived within this life, the more reality resisted explanation: familiar histories felt unfinished, truths lingered behind careful silences, and Rhaenyra loved him with a certainty that both comforted and disarmed him. Somewhere between duty and tenderness, affection began to grow into something neither of them had expected to find again. If this had always been his life, why did it feel borrowed? And when the truth behind his survival finally came to light, would devotion be enough to forgive what had been sacrificed to keep him here?