"I am the only one left. I am a fraud. A bastard of the soul with nothing but a name to shield me." Aemma Targaryen has the wrong hair, no dragon, and a father who loves a ghost more than his children. She was raised to be a flower in the court of King Viserys- sweet, silent, and decorative. But when the game of thrones turns her brothers into monsters and her sister into a recluse, Aemma stops trying to be a flower. She realizes that in the Dance of the Dragons, you are either a player or a piece. And she is done being moved. Published: Feb14, 2026 Completed: June 13, 2026 Writer: @rhaecerys #1 in aemond #1 in hightower #1 in teamgreen #2 in aemond x oc #3 in aegon #4 in GOT #12 in targaryen

She took his hand then and placed it-not ceremoniously, not dramatically-against her abdomen. Still flat beneath fabric. Still unchanged to the eye. His breath caught. "There," she said. "You're officially present." He didn't move. Barely breathed. "I don't feel anything." "It's early." "So it's ignoring me." She smirked. "Much like its parents." He snorted despite himself. "Rude." She leaned back, head resting against the stone wall. "You can talk, if you like." He stared at her. "To the child." "Yes." "What would I say." "Whatever you'd say to anyone you intend to terrify and protect simultaneously." He considered that, then leaned closer, lowering his voice as if the sea itself might overhear. "You will not be weak," he murmured. "You will not be small. And no one will ever touch you without consequence." Ariella hummed. "Subtle." "It's honest." She turned her head to look at him. "Try again. Less threat. More... reassurance." He grimaced. "I don't reassure." "You're doing fine." He sighed and tried again, awkwardly sincere. "You're... wanted." Her expression softened fully now. "And," he added, "your mother is very irritating but extremely competent." She laughed quietly. "Careful. I'll tell it you said that." He glanced down at her stomach, then back at her face. "It doesn't move." "Not yet." He frowned. "I expected something more dramatic." "Patience," she said. "Even dragons take time." They sat like that for a while, firelight flickering, the sea marking time beyond the walls. Eventually, Ariella shifted and yawned, the fatigue of the day finally asserting itself. Daemon noticed immediately. "You should sleep." "I will." "Now." "In a moment." Dragonstone stood watch-men loyal, banners snapping, a dragon coiled in the heights. Inside, two formidable people sat quietly with the smallest, strangest certainty either had ever known.

Under the rule of King Daeron II Targaryen, the dragons of old are long thought dead. Until you, Heir to Runestone, mounts the last surviving dragon of the Dance, long believed to have vanished after the death of its rider, Alyssa Royce, daughter of Rhea Royce and Daemon Targaryen. --- Baelor Targaryen X Reader Second person pov

Velarium (n., Latin, neuter) /veˈlaː.ri.um/ A canopy drawn against the harshness of light ; a veil held between the self and what would otherwise burn. In ancient arenas, it softened the sun without banishing it, a quiet mercy that made endurance possible. By extension ; a fragile shelter that does not change the world, only the way it is borne. baelor targaryen x oc

When two dragons meet as one after years of separation Their hearts full of passion and desire despite the lingering questions of rights and wrongs - or - Princess Viserra, oldest daughter of Prince Maekar, has always been a free soul with a playful spirit who searched for freedom rather than commitment throughout her life. But when she turns 22 years of age after isolating herself at Summerhall for far too long, she is forced to revisit King's Landing for the Hand's Name-day Tourney | A Baelor Targaryen x Targaryen!OC FanFiction | | Pre-Season 1 - ?? |

"I bend the knee to you sister... I swear fealty to you; before your family, before your people, before the seven kingdoms." "Why?" Rhaenyra dreaded his words, dreaded the sight of him. Baptised in the red of her guard's blood. "Give her to me." Aemond breathed. "I want Laenora." In which Laenora Velaryon finds herself betrothed to her Uncle Aemond by a dead king's word, all the while Prince Aegon chases her tail. *** Aemond Targaryen x Fem OC (with hints of Aegon Targaryen) All rights reserved 2023-2024. I do not own any characters in this story with the exception of Laenora Velaryon. I do not own any storylines except for those of which revolving around Laenora. Permission needed for translations.

Three centuries ago, the Doom of Valyria shattered the greatest civilization the realm had ever known. While history remembers House Targaryen as the last dragonlords to survive, the truth was far more complicated. Far beyond the Narrow Sea, another branch of Old Valyria endured. Led by House Belaerys and joined by the remaining dragonlord houses that escaped the flames, they journeyed east and forged the magnificent Vaelorian Empire beside the ancient realms of Yi Ti. There, dragons never vanished from the skies. They grew, they ruled, and they became the living symbol of an empire built from the ashes of the Freehold. Now, in 208 AC, as Westeros mourns the loss of its dragons, the East flourishes beneath silver wings. At the heart of this empire stands Princess Vaelyra Belaerys the Empire's Diamond. Revered for her grace, admired for her wisdom, and beloved by her people, she appears every inch the perfect princess. Yet beneath her gentle smile lies a mind sharpened by courtly politics and a spirit tempered by fire, loss, and the bond she shares with her mighty dragon, Vaerion. Across the sea, another heir bears the burden of an ancient name. Prince Valarr Targaryen grandson of King Daeron II and heir to the Iron Throne, has spent his life preparing to rule a kingdom whose dragons exist only in songs and memory. When an alliance between East and West is sealed through an unexpected betrothal, two heirs descended from the blood of Old Valyria are drawn together-not by love, but by duty. As kingdoms bargain, ambitious nobles whisper, and old enemies stir in the shadows, secrets buried since the Doom begin to awaken. Some believe the age of dragons has ended. They are wrong. For beyond the dawn, beneath silver wings, the blood of Old Valyria still burns. -All rights to George R.R. Martin

"you wrap around me like a chain, a crown, a vine. pulling me into the fire." --- pre-akotsk baelor breakspear x fem! oc

To the realm, Prince Baelor is the golden prince, the crown's brightest heir. To Tessa Dondarrion, he is nothing but a traitor, a man who shook hands with the very people who butchered her family. Now he arrives at Blackhaven Cliff, carrying his wife's lifeless body to the funeral pyre.. Tessa has anticipated everything.. Every step. Every word. Every heartbeat measured with the ruthless care of a Dondarrion thirsting for vengeance. Ten steps to unravel his legacy. Ten strikes to make the dragon taste his own fire. But fire is unpredictable. And some dragons don't burn the way you expect. Some of them burn you first. This story will also include a side romance featuring Maekar. _________________ Content Warning: Please be aware that this fanfic contains scenes of blood, violence, and mature situations. Readers should proceed with caution if sensitive to these themes. Note: The characters in this story are from George R. R. Martin's world, but some are original creations made specifically for this story. This fanfic is purely for fun and doesn't strictly follow the canon.

So mad at the gods because you're all I wanted. PRINCE BAELOR TARGARYEN / FEM!OC a knight of the seven kingdoms, s.1