MeganSamuels1
𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔞 𝔗𝔞𝔯𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔶𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔫, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔰 𝔣𝔩𝔦𝔭 𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔦𝔫.
In the shadow of the Red Keep, beneath banners stitched with three-headed dragons, two children are born beneath the same cry.
He is fire.
She is ash and air.
Prince Aerion Targaryen grows sharp-edged and brilliant, a creature of pride and fury. The court whispers early that there is something wrong in him - something too bright, too cruel, too hungry. They call him monstrous long before he earns the name.
Princess Aerea is his twin - soft-voiced, silver-eyed, and deceptively fragile. The smallfolk call her little dove. They mistake her gentleness for weakness.
They do not see how closely doves and dragons share the sky.
Bound by blood, sharpened by grief, and haunted by a mother lost too soon, Aerion and Aerea grow into something dangerous - not merely siblings, not merely husband and wife, but two halves of a single, volatile flame.
He burns for power.
She burns for him.
In a court ruled by duty and watched by gods who delight in cruelty, love becomes obsession, grief becomes madness, and devotion turns feral.
The realm will remember Aerion as Brightflame.
It will whisper that he was mad.
But madness is rarely born alone.
And when fire consumes everything it touches...
It does not ask who it destroys.