❝Madness and greatness are two sides of the same coin. Every time a Targaryen is born, the gods toss a coin and the world holds its breath.❞ - A Targaryen (madness) and a Stark, (greatness) a match made in anything but heaven, said by the very gods above themselves or so the people whisper. -

Aerion Targaryen x OC Female Baelor's daughter. Aerion's plaything. Elyra Targaryen wasn't born for a throne; she was born for a leash. While the realm sees a princess, her cousin sees a pet. It's a brutal, physical addiction to the weight of his hand and the snap of his voice. She should fight him. Instead, she's learning to crave the crawl. Same blood. Darker burn. Forced submission... until she snaps. This story leans heavily into tragedy and angst - if that's not your thing, it might not be the right read for you.

"But there is one thing we desire more than each other," she whispered. Her lips brushed his, barely a touch, light as breath. A provocation. "Power." Eleanor Tyrell was not kind. No one ever dared to question that and one had to be a fool to see gentleness where there was none at all. She did not conceal her cruelty, nor her pride. In fact, she thought it suited her. When Prince Maekar tried to wed his son Aerion in a desperate attempt to tame him, Lord Leo Tyrell didn't hesitate to secure that match for his own daughter, hoping it would tame her just the same. It didn't. Aerion and Eleanor were like flame to flame, igniting a wildfire, leaving nothing but destruction in their way. A match made in hell. The hunger for power ignited something inside of them, consuming both until there was nothing left of them anymore. Just death. || Aerion Targaryen X OC (A little Daeron) ||

Rhae stands where the world feared to tread. Aerion kneels only to her, loving her with teeth and fire, willing to slaughter anyone who dares stand between them.

"They used to say Targaryens were closer to gods than to men, but they only said that because of our dragons. When the last dragon died, our House's glory died with it. Or so our ancestors, in their weakness, chose to believe. But the last dragon never died. It crawled inside our bloodline and slept. Now it's waking up. It's the itch beneath our skin, the voice in our skulls, our dreams at night, and the hard, scalding truth I feel when I'm inside of you. My dear sister. My mirror. My fucking altar of Fire and Blood. We shall be the rebirth of the House of the Dragon. You and I, Aerea- conflagrated into one being, meant for glory, since the moment of our birth."

Dayna of House Hallward comes to the royal tourney expecting nothing more complicated than a few days of sport and spectacle. She loves the chaos of the lists, the color, the noise, and the freedom of being just another face in the crowd. Then she takes a wrong turn and walks straight into the tent of a certain prince. The prince, already on edge and waiting for a woman he paid for, assumes Dayna is the girl he ordered. His sharp welcome is met with an even sharper dismissal when Dayna tells the arrogant stranger exactly what she thinks of him. The encounter should have ended there. Instead, it sparks a rivalry that follows them back into the stands and into the center of the court's attention. As rumors spread and ambitions tighten around the tourney, Dayna finds herself unwillingly tangled with a prince who is as fascinated by her as she is irritated by his presence. What begins as a mistake becomes the start of a dangerous game, played out beneath the banners of a watching kingdom.

...and so suddenly her wings collapsed Aerion Targaryen x Fem!Oc/Ser Duncan the Tall x Fem!Oc

Princess Maella Targaryen, eldest daughter of Crown Prince Baelor, arrives at a grand tourney beside her father with the practiced poise of a woman raised beneath banners and expectation. Yet the lists awaken more than courtly duties. Among the crowd she encounters Lyonel Baratheon, the man she loved winters ago, whose laughter and stubborn warmth stir feelings she had carefully buried beneath silk and silence. Their reunion is tender and dangerous-haunted by time, pride, and the knowledge that love once lost is never simple when found again. As Maella navigates the bright chaos of the tourney, she finds herself pulled in another direction by her cousin Aerion, whose sharp devotion and possessive affection promise protection and peril in equal measure. Aerion's interest flatters the court and threatens to confine her, offering certainty at the cost of breath. Between Lyonel's familiar fire and Aerion's consuming regard, Maella stands at the center of a quiet storm, torn between the past that shaped her and the future being chosen for her. It is then that she meets Ser Dunk, a hedge knight of plain speech and unassuming honor, whose presence cuts through the glitter and intrigue like clean air. Dunk does not court her favor nor fear her name; he speaks to her as a person rather than a prize. Through him, Maella glimpses a wider world-one not ruled solely by bloodlines and bargains, but by kindness, courage, and choice. The tourney becomes a turning point, not for crowns or victories, but for Maella herself, as she begins to understand that love, like loyalty, may take many forms-and that the truest freedom lies in seeing the world as it is, and deciding who she wishes to be within it.

In the halls of the Red Keep, where power is traded in glances and vows are sharper than steel, a meeting between fire and sun reshapes the fate of the realm. Aerion Targaryen, a prince bound by duty and dragonblood, has been raised to rule with restraint in a court that hungers for weakness. Nymeria Martell, daughter of Dorne and heir to a legacy of fierce independence, arrives in King's Landing carrying the pride of the sands and the memory of a mother born of dragons. What begins as a political alliance soon smolders into something far more dangerous. As rival courts conspire and old wounds between their houses threaten to reopen, Aerion and Nymeria must navigate desire, loyalty, and the cost of choosing one another in a world that demands obedience. Between whispered promises and burning ambition, their love becomes both a weapon and a shield. The Dragon and the Dornish Rose is a sweeping romantic fantasy of passion, power, and two souls daring to claim more than the world intended to give them.

ೃ⁀➷ 𝙋𝙊𝙄𝙎𝙊𝙉𝙀𝘿 𝘿𝙀𝙑𝙊𝙏𝙄𝙊𝙉 They say Prince Aerion Brightflame always revealed his anger through violence and raised voices, while Aelena Targaryen hid her cruelty behind grace and beauty. She wore innocence like a mask, a serpent beneath silk. Aerion saw the danger and loved her anyway. He let the snake bite, and once the venom spread, there was no escaping what had been written. He never would have believed that a clever woman with soft eyes would be his doom.