Deamyra was not raised to inherit power. She was raised to survive it. In a court where daughters are bargaining tools and affection is a liability, she understands one truth above all: safety is never given - it is secured. Valarr Targaryen is not the most charming of princes. He is not reckless. He is not easily swayed. But he is steady. In a world of unpredictable men and burning tempers, Valarr is restraint. Discipline. Protection forged in black steel. He does not promise romance - he promises order. And to Deamyra, order is worth more than poetry. She does not dream of fairy tales. She dreams of permanence. Of a place no one can remove her from. If becoming his wife means safety, she will become indispensable. If bearing his child means security, she will not hesitate. If loving him makes it easier to stay - she may allow herself that luxury. Because in the game of dragons, love is uncertain. But protection - protection can be chosen. And Deamyra has chosen.

||Complete|| In the fire-wreathed exile of Essos, Daemon Targaryen finds more than whores and war. He finds her - Alliana Draconis, the last daughter of a forgotten line of Valyrian priestesses, marked by blood, prophecy, and unspoken power. She becomes his secret weapon, his confidante, and his forbidden obsession. She cannot be touched, for her power lies in her untouched flame - but through her, Daemon's path to the throne is carved in blood, sex, and fire. Follow Alliana as she works in the shadows to give Daemon what he was always destined to have. The Iron Throne. The world will never see her coming. But they will feel her magic burn.

Robert Baratheon was ready to marry Cersei Lannister, but when Visenya Targaryen, a warrior princess of unmatched wit and beauty, is captured, his plans shift. Jon Arryn's cunning suggestion to marry her instead shocks the realm, bringing together two unstoppable forces in a marriage of fire and storm. Warning ⚠️ : Blood, gore, family conflicts, misogyny , sexual tension, princess talking shit, smut, sin, mostly smut, i just want to see Baratheon get shook and eyes open by targussy, just an brute an get burn by dragon princess.

||Complete|| Princess Allaena Targaryen, youngest daughter of King Viserys and Queen Aemma, was never meant to shape the realm. Cherished and bold, she lived free of duty-until love bound her to Ser Criston Cole, her sworn protector and secret heart. When she's wed to a Dornish prince for politics, it's Criston who stays at her side, raising children that bear his blood, though the realm must never know. Now King Viserys is dead. The Dance of the Dragons begins. Rhaenyra calls for her loyalty. Her family demands her choice. But Allaena's true allegiance lies with Criston-and the legacy they've built in the shadows. As war ignites, Allaena must decide: protect her family... or fight for the future only fire can claim.

(𝑎 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑓𝑖𝑐) When Robert Baratheon dies three days after the Trident, the realm does not mourn long. It cannot afford to. There is still a kingdom to run, a throne to fill, and a Lannister bride already promised. Roald Baratheon never wanted to be king. He wanted his brother alive. He wanted the Dornish match that had been arranged for him, the life that had been planned. Instead he gets a crown that doesn't fit, a council full of agendas, and a wife who looks at him like she is already calculating the distance to the exit. Cersei Lannister never wanted this husband. She wanted Jaime. She wanted the story she had written for herself since childhood. Instead she gets a man who is not Robert - not cruel, not drunk, not wandering - a man who comes to her door every night without fail and stays until morning, who builds glass houses in winter and calls it governance, who looks at her like she is the only interesting thing in a room full of interesting things. She finds this infuriating. She finds this, slowly and against every intention, something else entirely. This is the story of a marriage that neither of them chose, built year by year from argument and jealousy and five children and the quiet, stubborn faithfulness of a man who decided at the altar what he wanted and never once looked elsewhere - no matter how many ladies of the court arranged themselves in his path. The court whispers that the king never strays. Cersei already knows. She has the evidence every morning.

What if Maegor the cruel had a son? A raven haired prince. Born to carry the legacy of his father and grandmother before him. Daemion Targaryen, the Prince of Oldtown, The Black Dragon. A man's legacy is another's burden. #1 Asongoficeandfire #1 Asoiaf #1 Maegorthecruel #1 Visenya #1 Original ( I do NOT own the song of ice and fire or any of the characters in this fic apart from Daemion and other original characters. )