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.

"Run away all you want, but know that I can hunt you down better than you can hide." Daera, a girl with both Blackwood and Targaryen blood, was raised to be quiet, to belong nowhere. Spending her whole life running away from what she was. Until he saw it. Running into the cruel prince Aerion, she gets pulled into a world of power, blood, and dangerous desire. She must decide who she truly is.

Everyone thought all hope was lost for the young exiled prince, vain, cruel and arrogant. All until he meets a certain young muse, named Haelea, in the free city named Lys. Her eyes outstandingly purple, her hair as pale as his, her voice like a melody when she spoke, when she sang, and her as a whole- unmatched, unique from any other. But he was self-absorbed- and she was everything that he was not. How could a girl, so outstanding, fall for such a fierce dragon-like man like him? Will she change him, and his mischievous self- or will it all be the start of a restless fire. A fire causing only the deepest of tragedy. A fire never going to end.

"Let the Stranger claim me, but not my last verse." 𝐀 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍 𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐃𝐎𝐌 VALARR TARGARYEN X FEM!OC ©MONZIEE 2026.

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ " my moon, my man " Princess Gevinessa Targaryen, once known for her wild spirit and sharp tongue, has spent her life despising Prince Valarr Targaryen, the solemn, insufferable heir she could never outwit as a child. When an arranged betrothal binds them together, she is forced to confront not only her resentment, but the unsettling realization that the line between love and hate is far thinner than she ever imagined. As ancient Valyrian rites, family expectations, and her own stubborn pride collide, Nessa must decide whether the boy she once tormented is truly her cage... or something far more dangerous to her heart.

The union of House Targaryen's golden prince and House Lannister's only daughter promises glory to the realm. For their gold and loyalty, the lions are welcomed to the foot of the Iron Throne - where warmth and wildfire are one and the same. What becomes of a naïve lion who wanders into a realm of dragons - one haunted by a quiet, twisting madness born of a self he cannot name, the other ablaze with outward fury for believing he has named it? The lion walks between flames, where innocence falters and even the gentlest heart tastes the dragons' unseen scorch. [unedited] ---------------------------- valarr targaryen x oc!lannister aerion targaryen x oc!lannister

Baelora Targaryen was the only female of the Targaryen siblings. Holding the known status of beauty and purity amongst her brothers who were either known as- reckless, careless, or just plain cruel. But purity was a fragile thing in a family built on tradition and reproduction. As the much younger sister of Prince Aerion- the Bright Flame- Baelora had grown up watching his cruel victories and mistakes, where whispers followed his name. Most of the time Baelora simple thought of him as her older brother- her guardian- her protector. Yet as the great tourney at Ashford Meadow draws near, she begins to see the truth behind the stories of him. And in a world where 'dragons' are the royalty, Baelora must learn that even the brightest flames can burn.

They call my uncle the Anvil. They call my betrothed the Brightflame. They call my brother the Young Prince. They do not know what to call me. I am Visenya of House Targaryen-seventeen years of age, only daughter of Prince Baelor Breakspear and Princess Jena, sister to Valarr, granddaughter to King Daeron the Good. Where my father and brother wear their brown Dornish blood plainly in their dark hair-Valarr marked with that curious white streak behind his right ear-I bear the old Valyrian look without apology. Silver-white hair. Storm-grey eyes. The blood of the dragon written clear as flame. My father, Baelor Targaryen, is heir to the Iron Throne. My uncle, Maekar Targaryen, broods at Summerhall with his sons-Daeron the Dreamer, Aerion Brightflame, Aemon the upcoming maester, and little Aegon. My brother Valarr stands one heartbeat away from being Prince of Dragonstone. And I- I am promised to Aerion Targaryen. Promised since I was ten. The realm sees it as a strength-binding the lines of Baelor and Maekar closer still. Fire braided into fire. But the court whispers. They always whisper. They whisper of Aerion's cruelty. They whisper of Daeron's dreams. They whisper of Maekar's temper. They whisper of my father's mercy being mistaken for weakness. And soon, they will whisper of Ashford. The great tourney at Ashford Meadow will draw every knight with a scrap of pride and every lord with a hunger for spectacle. Hedge knights seeking glory. Princes seeking dominance. The smallfolk seeking distraction. My father says it is a celebration of peace beneath King Daeron's wise rule. My uncle says tourneys breed folly. My betrothed says he will make them kneel. I have seen how Aerion smiles when he speaks of kneeling. I do not yet know that I will meet Ser Duncan the Tall. I do not yet know that little Aegon-Egg-will follow him. I do not yet know that a single act of cruelty beneath a bright tourney sun will fracture our family before the eyes of the realm.

Alerie Ashford has never been very good at obedience. But when a tourney brings the Targaryens to Ashford, one reckless night, a cruel prince, and a hedge knight's defiance set events in motion that could change the fate of them all. Prince Aerion Targaryen is cruel, dangerous, and entirely insufferable. Naturally, her father decides she should marry him.

Their yearning grew too loud.