Death had a plan. The magical war had ended. Queen Alicent was moments away from giving birth. All the pieces were in place-until the Fates intervened. They demanded a preview. Not a full revelation-just enough for soul resonance to stir when the moment of convergence truly arrived. And honestly? The gods were bored. The Lord of Light, the Many-Faced God, the Old Gods and the New, the Seven, even Mother Magic herself-bored out of their divine minds. So they did what any ancient cosmic forces would do: They put on a show. A literal show. A gathering of two realms-those of magic and of fire and blood. The witches and wizards. The kings and queens. The dragons and the wand-bearers. None of them remember this afterward. Not entirely. But somewhere deep inside, something changes. And at the center of it all is one soul. Sitara Evangeline Potter Black-a girl who died in childbirth only to rise again, reborn in another world, another body. She will become Alicent Hightower, mother and protector of the Targaryen Dynasty, But she was once the Girl-Who-Lived. If you're ready to witness what even the gods wanted to watch... Come along. The show is about to begin.

This story begins with Conrad in California, detached and disciplined, carrying the familiar weight of being the responsible one-the son who absorbed pressure, grief, and expectation until love felt indistinguishable from obligation. He is older now, sharper, angrier, and more self-aware, but still haunted by his past: his mother's death, his father's failures, and the wreckage left behind with Belly and Jeremiah. Everything fractures the night he meets Valeriya-brilliant, commanding, emotionally guarded, and immediately unreadable. Their connection is instant and volatile, built on challenge rather than comfort. Valeriya doesn't soften Conrad; she exposes him. She calls him out, refuses to be managed, and meets his intensity with her own. What starts as mutual fascination quickly spirals into something obsessive, physical, and deeply binding. Their relationship becomes the emotional center of the story: fierce loyalty, constant proximity, and an intimacy that is not gentle but deliberate. They move fast-not recklessly, but with certainty-building a shared life that feels private and impenetrable. Sex becomes routine, grounding, and expressive rather than impulsive; domesticity becomes just as charged as conflict. Conrad finds himself choosing her again and again-not out of duty, but desire. But as their bond deepens, the past fights back.

...𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐮𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐬 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐛𝐥𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐜𝐡... "Say what you will but this is freedom." "This? This freedom tastes like ashes, I do not want it." 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 the Wheel weaves as the Wheel wills, and Zenzele remembers every agonizing rotation. (𝙍𝘼𝙉𝘿 𝘼𝙇' 𝙏𝙃𝙊𝙍 𝙓 𝘽𝙇𝘼𝘾𝙆!𝙁𝙀𝙈!𝙊𝘾.)

She was born as the stars whispered secrets, beneath a spring sky in 1507, when the Pleiades shimmered too brightly to ignore. Odette Lyra Sinclair - a name once erased, a girl once cast aside. The bastard of a future king, exiled to France with her mother, raised among roses and ghosted titles. Polished, fluent, veiled. Then came the winter of 1518, sharp with destiny. Taken by pirates, lost to the waves of fate - only to resurface in the silken shadows of the Imperial Harem. November 24th, they record. She was brought not for pleasure, but to serve Hatice Sultan - and yet, history would remember her for much more. She was not loud. Her steps were hushed, her gaze unreadable. Still, the palace noticed. In the letters of the Valide, in the journals of the court stewards, in the glances exchanged when she passed - she was there. The White Phantom. The Veiled One. The girl who bowed, but never bent. For two years, the Sultan wondered. She intrigued him not with laughter, but with silence. He saw her with Mustafa, with Hatice, with Mahidevran - and always, she turned away. But fate is persistent. And one day, at a game of chess, his hand brushed her veil. And the world shifted. He never let her hide again. She bore him eight children. She wore a crown of sapphires that sang of forgotten oceans. He wrote her into verses, painted her with trembling fingers. She obliged the Crown not by demand, but by becoming indispensable - the soul he could not rule without. Others were queens. She was the Sultana of the Jahan.

Vaera Targaryen was exquisitely irresistible. Especially to her uncle Daemon and her little half brother, Aegon. 💋 "I'll tear your world apart. I'll take it way too far. And blame it on my broken heart." 🐉 Most characters belong to grrm Any explicit content it between consenting fictional characters