Daenerys Mistborne was the first and only trueborn daughter of Rhaenyra and Laenor Velaryon. Rider of Nyraxes, an all white she-dragon that many whispered was Meraxes come again with her fierceness and pure white flames. She was the Realm's Darling and the Velaryon's Pearl, as a child she was both charming and unnerving. For she was always in two worlds, and as she grew so did her visions of past, present and future. For she was not only a dragon rider, she was the first in many years to be a dreamer. But she was became an ambitious woman who believed that she was chosen for a higher purpose and as she grew ... so did her desire to wield dreams like weapons. For Daenerys had seen the song of ice and fire to be true and she would stop at nothing to have her bloodline on the throne. But what happens when Aemond One - Eye, her childhood familiar turned enemy desires to possess her? To take something from her as she once took something from him. Will her visions descend into madness and will her heart stay true? MORALLY GREY FEMALE MC HOUSE OF THE DRAGON/FIRE AND BLOOD FANFIC Note this is not a romance story, if there is romance it will be a subplot n it will be DARK

Born from a queen's death and a king's cowardice, Princess Vaemma Targaryen grows beneath the red stones of the Keep like a pale and poisonous flower, all moonlit beauty, silver hair, and venom sharpened by years of consequence denied. She is not fragile, not petulant, not some trembling little princess breaking cups for sport; she is worse, a woman who has learned that rank can make cruelty charming, that beauty can turn malice into music, that no one dares strike the king's unwanted daughter no matter whose blood she draws. To Viserys, she is the living wound he cannot bear to look upon; to Rhaenyra, the sister born from their mother's butchered body; to Alicent, the first child who ever truly needed her, and therefore the one she loves, spoils, and finally sacrifices. When Vaemma is promised to Lord Ormund Hightower, proud lord of Oldtown and sworn enemy of dragon arrogance, she expects another man to bend beneath the weight of her name, her face, her dragon, her royal rot, but Ormund is no courtier trembling in perfume and candlelight. He is stone, steel, tower-shadow, and judgment. He looks upon the Pearl Dragon and sees not a goddess, but a beautiful, vicious thing that has never once been made to answer for itself. Their betrothal is no love song, but a knife drawn slowly across silk: Hightower piety against Targaryen excess, discipline against indulgence, consequence against a woman who has mistaken impunity for power. And as the realm blackens around them, Vaemma must learn the one lesson no one in her father's court ever dared teach her... dragons may burn men alive, but even dragons can be brought to heel.