In a dynasty forged in conquest, prophecy, and blood, Aelora and Valarr find something dangerously rare: tenderness. From Summerhall to King's Landing, their story unfolds through stolen glances, courtly splendor, political betrothals, and devastating grief. A tragic Targaryen romance about first love, fragile happiness, and the cruel cost of losing it. 𝐕𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐑𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍 𝐗 𝐎𝐂 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍

They handed her to me in a silk dress and diamond collar. The spoiled Sokolov princess. The executioner's daughter. My wife. Kira Sokolov dances in chaos like it's a language she invented- spinning through Paris in stilettos, kissing danger with blood-red lips, dragging her demons behind her like a designer coat. She was meant to be my obligation. A Bratva arrangement sealed in blood and silence. I never wanted a wife. Especially not one with wild eyes, bipolar swings, and a mouth that lives to drive me insane. But now she's mine. My problem. My obsession. And when she falls apart in my arms- with whispers to ghosts and bruised apologies- I'll burn kingdoms to keep her breathing. Because no one touches what belongs to Ivan Smirnov. Not the bratva. Not her past. Not even her own madness. She was born royalty. But she'll die as something else. Mine.