"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."

Fate made them, Fate will destroy them. Aerion Targaryen x Fem!oc

"WHATEVER OUR SOULS ARE MADE OF, HIS AND MINE ARE THE SAME." - Wuthering Heights, Emily Brontë [FEM!OCxAerionTargaryen]

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.