A year before the Ashford Tourney, Prince Maekar Targaryen is commanded to take a new wife for the good of the realm. The bride chosen for him is Lady Amara Rowanwood.A woman as beautiful as she is distant, twice widowed by the age of twenty-five and carrying secrets that have made her heart as cold as winter. Neither of them wants the marriage. Maekar is a prince of duty, stern and unyielding, a man who has long accepted that love has little place in his life. Amara, stubborn and fiercely independent, has no intention of becoming another obedient Targaryen princess. Bound together by a marriage neither chose, they arrive at Summerhall as strangers and regard one another with suspicion. But beneath Amara's icy exterior lies grief and old wounds, and beneath Maekar's hard gaze is a man weary of war, duty, and loneliness. As courtly whispers grow and old enemies stir, the two must decide whether this unwanted union will become another tragedy... or the beginning of something neither of them ever expected. In a world where duty is often stronger than love, can two broken souls learn to trust each other before the flames of the dragon consume them both?

You had been betrothed to Cregan stark at the start of the war. He was the noble and honourable stark that he was he supported your mother claim without restraint. So much so your mother saw it fit to betroth the two of you. So when disaster strikes and you and your younger brother are the only two survivors, you a shipped of north in your grief, leaving only Cregan to heal your wounds.

Jace/Female OC -NOT A SELF INSERT SMUT A bit of a Cregan Stark side story. He pleases BOTH of his dragons. That's all I'm gonna say about that. Precursory for new readers: this was written after season one of HOTD, I will not be changing anything when season 2 comes out. Also ages are not my strong suite and may be inconsistent but any smut happens when they're both of age Daemon swore a child could never grow in the venomous pit that was his bronze bitch in the Vale. It was the sense of humour of the Gods to give Rhea Royce a child the very image of her absent husband's own mother. An even further mockery of the Royce line was the carbon copy attitude Alyssa Targaryen was gifted from her father. "𝘈𝘭𝘺𝘴𝘴𝘢 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘋𝘢𝘦𝘮𝘰𝘯 𝘴𝘩𝘢𝘳𝘦 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘰𝘥 𝘰𝘧 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘥𝘳𝘢𝘨𝘰𝘯; 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘺'𝘳𝘦 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵𝘭𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘢𝘯𝘥 𝘤𝘩𝘢𝘰𝘵𝘪𝘤." His little dragon, his child to a fault. And there were many. But Alyssa was ever her father's daughter. Eternally loyal to her family, breaker of law and tradition, and eager to cause as much upset in any capacity it is provided to her. She has tastes and desires that are satisfied no matter what the poor Septas have tried to tell her. Alyssa is Daemon Targaryens child. She will never turn her back on her family. She will defend Rhaenyra's honour as fiercely as if it was her own. Jacaerys Velaryon finds himself a fortunate ally to Alyssa Targaryen. His sense of duty and sacrifice do not go unnoticed by the fiery and impulsive daughter of the Rogue Prince. She has the fire to burn their enemies to the ground. He has the breeze to fan the flame brighter or the structure to keep the fire contented. *** "I fear for the men of the realm when she grows into a woman." Daemon shook his head. "I fear only for myself." ***

The story is about two Targaryen girls who were able to change the fate of the inhabitants of Westeros, break centuries-old traditions and improve the fate of all. Love and hate will clash with each other

Princess Daenys Martell firstborn daughter of Princess Daenerys Targaryen and Prince Maron Martell, the future Ruling Princess of Dorne. Unlike her siblings she bears Valyrian features, silver-gold hair and amethyst eyes, which set her apart and fuel whispers about her parentage, including rumors linking her to Daemon Blackfyre. Though she was born prematurely and lives with lasting damage to her lungs, she refuses to see herself as fragile. Others treat her as if she were made of glass, unfit to rule and more Targaryen than Martell.. Her illness confines her body, not her will and she is determined to prove that she is more than the "weak heir" people believe her to be. Aerion recognizes this defiance and exploits it. Unlike others, he does not coddle her. Instead, he tests her limits, pushing her to endure him, his presence, even his suffocating closeness. He frames it as strength, as transformation, convincing her that she does not need the same things as ordinary people that she is above them. Their relationship is not one of simple control, it is a struggle. She is drawn to the way he sees her not as fragile, but as worthy. That validation is intoxicating, not because she is weak, but because it aligns with the person she wants to be. And in trying to prove she is not breakable, she risks letting him reshape her into something far more dangerous.

Shaera Rivers was born from the union of the Great Bastards. Daughter of the two most dangerous shadows in Westeros, Bloodraven and Shiera Seastar. Granddaughter of King Aegon Targaryen the Unworthy, Lady Melissa Blackwood, and Serenei of Lys. Valarr Targaryen was the heir's heir, the golden prince of his age, tethered by honor to a crown he was born to protect. And Shaera Rivers was the bastard's bastard. No matter how noble her lineage appeared, her roots were rotten with the shame of her birth. Their love was a bond that no king would sanction and no realm would ever tolerate. ~ "Who is that?" Kiera asked, her voice tighter than she intended. Lady Ellyn's lips curved slightly. "That is her.. Prince Valarr's beloved." The word struck like a stone. "Beloved?" "Indeed." Ellyn's eyes followed Shaera's hands as the shears moved with quiet precision. "When Valarr looks at her, he sees flowers, lilies, roses, something rare and delicate. But watch closely my dear." Her voice dropped to a velvet whisper. "He sees blossoms... while her hands close only around poisonous weeds." Kiera hesitated. "She looks... fragile. Almost ethereal." "So does frost." Ellyn murmured. "Right before it kills the harvest." Her voice lowered into a silken warning. "Do not let the silver hair deceive you. Beneath that glow is a girl who climbed into a prince's heart using tricks no septa would ever teach. They say... she has enchanted him." Her gaze slid back to Kiera, sharp and knowing. "If I were you.." She said softly. "I'd ensure Prince Valarr remembers the difference between a highborn rose and a common weed before she sows any more seeds in his head..."

book ii. "What do dragons dream of?" "You, lately." Prince Daeron Targaryen has spent years trying to outrun his dreams with wine, laughter, and disappearing acts. It almost works, until Princess Rhaella Targaryen arrives at Ashford Meadow and reminds him what it feels like to want something beyond survival. Bound by childhood, family, and feelings neither is foolish enough to confess, the two dance carefully around a love that has existed far longer than either of them dares admit. But dragons were never made for peaceful lives, and some dreams are destined to burn. All rights belong to George RR Martin and HBO A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms, except any original characters and canon divergence in this story. Cross-posted to AO3 @/sunflowercorpse :)

Maybe the gods were not finished with House Targaryen. Or perhaps they simply wished for a louder scream when the song began anew. Viserys and Daenys Targaryen entered the world sharing one heartbeat-two halves of the same Valyrian coin. Years later came Daenerys, small enough to rest within their joined palms, and from the moment they held her, the twins swore no exile, no king, and no merchant prince would ever break them again. But dragons remember debts that blood alone cannot pay. When the first egg cracks beneath a bleeding star, it is Daenerys who hears the future, Viserys who commands the fire, and Daenys who must decide which sibling's dream will survive. One throne. Three heads of a single, fractured destiny. And an oath forged in childhood: We burn together, or not at all. Long after the fall of dragons, Westeros forgot how to fear the Targaryens. It is about to learn again-at the hands of three heirs raised in exile, armed with prophecy, and incapable of mercy.

Baelor Breakspear died beneath a summer sky, struck down in a tourney meant to celebrate peace. The songs called it noble, the histories made it simple. He had expected darkness, but instead he woke to dragons, to salt and smoke, and to a past that should have already turned to ash. On Driftmark, he found Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen not as a distant legend, but as a woman standing at the edge of her fate. He knew how her story would end and what it would cost her, yet his presence began to change the course of it in ways he could not fully control. The closer he drew to her, the more uncertain everything became, including the life he once belonged to. If he rewrote her fate, what would remain of his own? Would the future that held his family simply disappear, or had it already begun to fade the moment he arrived? Was he meant to save her, or was he only delaying something that could not be undone?

Aerion Targaryen was never meant to choose. His marriage to the Princess of Volantis, Caelyra, was already decided - an alliance of blood and power. But Aerion never wanted her. He saw something else. Silent, invisible, Caelyra's slave was never meant to catch his attention - let alone become his choice. On the eve of a wedding meant to unite kingdoms, Aerion changes the fate of three lives. In secret, before a septon and with Daeron as witness, he marries the one who was never meant to be chosen. And in a world where dragons take what they want... No one walks away unscathed.