Beneath the shadows of fire and steel, Old secrets stir wounds yet to heal. A crown once lost, a path unclear, Blood will flow, and fate draws near. Echoes whisper of swords unsheathed, Of fallen kings and vengeance breathed. The dragon's roar, a haunting call, Kingdoms rise, and kingdoms fall. Where loyalty and treason meet, The bitter taste of dust and defeat. A dance of death, a lover's lie, When honor fades, who dares to die? DISCLAIMER: ALL RIGHTS AND CHARACTERS BELONG TO GEORGE R.R. MARTIN AND MAX. BTW this is my first fanfic + English is not my first, second, or third language.

Loki is the banished Prince of Asgard. The accursed God of Mischief. He finds himself on the run from the mortal Avengers, and the immortal Einherjar. While trying to fulfill a personal mission, Loki opens a portal, that sends him to another realm. Westeros! During the reign of Robert Baratheon. Loki quickly makes a name for himself as a cunning sells-sword, which draws the attention of King Robert. After proving himself to the drunkard king, Loki is brought into his service. Where, he quickly earns the hatred of Queen Cersei, Jaime Lannister, and Petyr Bealish. Not to mention, the enmity of the Mountain, and the Hound. While visiting the North, Loki meets the Starks, the noble house that controls the cold region. Loki easily befriends the Stark children, and notices the soft and beautiful Sansa Stark. In Westeros, it is the winner takes all; and Loki is going to be that winner!

The Gods had blessed the Lannisters with twins once, and he would do so once more as Cersei Lannister would give birth to another alongside Joffrey Baratheon. Another boy with secrets already sewn into his heart. One troubled by injustice, yet bound by duty. A lion, born in the skin of a Stag. Would he let his duty bind him, or will he let justice guide his hand? Or shall envy swallow it all!

She took his hand then and placed it-not ceremoniously, not dramatically-against her abdomen. Still flat beneath fabric. Still unchanged to the eye. His breath caught. "There," she said. "You're officially present." He didn't move. Barely breathed. "I don't feel anything." "It's early." "So it's ignoring me." She smirked. "Much like its parents." He snorted despite himself. "Rude." She leaned back, head resting against the stone wall. "You can talk, if you like." He stared at her. "To the child." "Yes." "What would I say." "Whatever you'd say to anyone you intend to terrify and protect simultaneously." He considered that, then leaned closer, lowering his voice as if the sea itself might overhear. "You will not be weak," he murmured. "You will not be small. And no one will ever touch you without consequence." Ariella hummed. "Subtle." "It's honest." She turned her head to look at him. "Try again. Less threat. More... reassurance." He grimaced. "I don't reassure." "You're doing fine." He sighed and tried again, awkwardly sincere. "You're... wanted." Her expression softened fully now. "And," he added, "your mother is very irritating but extremely competent." She laughed quietly. "Careful. I'll tell it you said that." He glanced down at her stomach, then back at her face. "It doesn't move." "Not yet." He frowned. "I expected something more dramatic." "Patience," she said. "Even dragons take time." They sat like that for a while, firelight flickering, the sea marking time beyond the walls. Eventually, Ariella shifted and yawned, the fatigue of the day finally asserting itself. Daemon noticed immediately. "You should sleep." "I will." "Now." "In a moment." Dragonstone stood watch-men loyal, banners snapping, a dragon coiled in the heights. Inside, two formidable people sat quietly with the smallest, strangest certainty either had ever known.

Sherah is captured in Pentos, found stranded and naked ashore. Sent to King's Landing under King Daeron II's command, she is said to carry the blood of Old Valyria. Sherah becomes a whisper of hope in a time where dragons are but ash and legends. However, Prince Aerion Targaryen, dragons obsessed, bright as a flame and twice as mad, seems to distract Sherah from her purpose. fem oc x aerion targaryen

"A rose thrusted in a world of wolves and lions is quick to grow sharp thorns." Rosalie Tyrell finds herself in a dangerous game of hearts when she catches the eye of more than one man: Robb Stark, the honourable heir of Winterfell, Jon Snow, dashing bastard of the North and Jaime Lannister, the proud knight of the King's guard. Winter is coming and the war is quickly upon them, and as fate would have it they will find themselves each on a different path, but only one leads to her.

In the chaos of war, Eira Stark, twin sister of Robb Stark, carries the fierce spirit of her Aunt Lyanna and the untamed fire of her Uncle Brandon. Determined to save her father and sisters from the clutches of King's Landing, she rides into battle beside Robb, a wolf among men. But as war rages on, Eira is forced to confront a choice that could shape the fate of the North-honor, family, or love. Will she follow duty, or will her heart lead her down a dangerous path? ·˚✎ 𝗁𝗂𝗀𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗍 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 #1 in #jaimelannister #1 in #Housestark #8 in #Asongoficeandfire Copyright Notice: This is a fanfiction inspired by Game of Thrones / A Song of Ice and Fire, created by George R.R. Martin. All rights to characters, settings, plots, and other elements belong to the original author and/or HBO. I do not own any rights to the original material and do not intend to infringe on copyright. This story is written for entertainment purposes only and is not for commercial purposes. Original characters such as Eira Stark and others created specifically for this fanfic are my own. Please do not copy, distribute, or use these characters without permission.

When Eddard Stark kneels before the Sept of Baelor, he expects death-but not what follows. His spirit lingers, bound to watch the suffering of his family: Robb's fall at the Red Wedding, Sansa's torment and rise as Queen in the North, Arya's ruthless journey, and the fates of Bran, Rickon, Jon, and even Lyanna and Catelyn. Each vision deepens his torment, showing him the pain and ruin of his broken pack. At last, before the weirwood, the gods offer him a choice: to return, to walk the path again, and to change the destiny of the Starks. Burdened by sorrow but burning with resolve, Ned accepts-knowing the cost of failure will be everything.

After the fall of House Targaryen, two sisters survive the ashes. Visenya Targaryen, trueborn daughter of Rhaegar and Elia Martell, grows in exile beside Daenerys Stormborn, bound by blood, fire, and a promise to rule the world of men. Where Daenerys is forged in flame, Visenya is shaped by prophecy, patience, and the quiet will of conquerors long dead. When dragons rise from the pyre and a witch speaks of broken wombs and future kings, destiny divides their paths. Daenerys is meant for Essos. Visenya is called home to Westeros. Between steel and snow, love and legacy, conquest and counsel, Visenya must claim a throne not with madness, but with a dream older than the realm itself. This is the story of fire that learns to rule, and dragons who dare to dream again.

The son of Jamie Lannister, raised and taught by Tywin Lannister, and the heart of the seven kingdoms. Kek Lannister was every bit manipulative and cunning as his aunt, and more loyal than his father, but unlike them he understood that personal attachment could not come in the way of bringing House Lannister to the top. He'll do things he shouldn't, hurt people, 'love' people, twist people, but he's doing it all for his future and the future of his great house. Season 1 -