It was cold and dark. Visenya's eyes could only just about see Aerion stood immediately before her as the light ignited by the flames around them danced around his face. He stared towards her, like he was trying to do nothing but figure her out. "Please" she spoke, her voice coming out as more of a whisper, "believe me" she added. Her eyes were pleading, her heart rate beating at a quick pace. His eyes flicked between her own, he took a step closer and backed her into the bed's wooden pillar making her breath hitch. Then, he shook his head as his face grew inches from her own. "No." // After a troubled start to childhood a young Visenya is shipped away to Dorne to be raised away from the spotlight with a promise to return when she is fit for marriage. Now, a much more mature Visenya must make her way home. Her homecoming leads her straight to the tourney at Ashford Meadows, where the realm's most eligible knights gather to compete for glory. But among the shining armour rides the very man tied to the shadows of her childhood, the one person she has tried to forget leading to a fatal attraction and desire that no matter how much she refuses it. Will she be able to resist and find a suitor? Or will she let her whole reputation come crashing down?

"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.

"then wed her to me," aerion pleaded, his voice growing desperate as he looked at his father. "the lannisters care only for her title and dragon, i- i could take care of her. better than some lannister lord. have her be mine, i beg you." when the last dragon died a century ago, and the targaryen dynasty had just gotten used to surviving without their greatest asset, an impulsive decision single-handedly brought them back. he hated her for it, envied how she represented something he was supposed to be. meanwhile she hated him for his freedom, resented how he was everything she ever wanted to be. but the dagger of fate had stabbed them both that day, twisting in and merging their bloods as one

There was once a time where peace could be achieved with silence. When a woman's worth was measured by her obedience to duty alone. But silence breaks. And when it does, desire speaks louder than duty ever could.

Princess Jaehaera Targaryen ||, daughter of Baelor, kept in the shadows due to her idiosyncratic characteristics catches the dangerous attention of Aerion, Son of Maekar. When the Princesses father notices the attention, he declares any romance between the two, forbidden. Would that really stop Aerion? The story of Jaehaera is an add on, over the already existing story of 'A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms' and will contain !SPOILERS! This is your trigger warning. This is ASOIAF fanfic there will be horrible scenes. Later in the book there will be mentions of: rape, human trafficking, abuse, suicide/self-harm. (I do not claim own Aerion or A knight of the Seven Kingdoms)

Two siblings born from the blood of the dragon. They say when he was born, the coin that gods flipped had landed on the side of madness. But what about her?

She was never meant to burn. At Ashford, Princess Viserra Targaryen plays a dangerous game; flirting with knights, provoking princes, and refusing to be controlled. But when her rivalry with the dangerously charming Aerion Targaryen turns into something deeper, sharper, and far more consuming, the game begins to unravel. Because Viserra is changing. And whatever is awakening inside her is not something even dragons have forgotten.

Aerion Targaryen was fire made flesh, a prince whose cruelty was as deliberate as it was brilliant. He reveled in chaos and indulgence, a storm of menace that left ash and ruin in his wake. No one could tame him, not kin, not crown, not fear, and yet he drew her in with the quiet promise that some temptations were worth every burn. Rhaella Targaryen had always walked the narrow line between sweetness and steel, a careful mask over a heart that could cut sharper than any blade. She knew the rules, the expected smiles, the polite obedience, but when grief and desire festered, she discovered the intoxicating pull of defiance. In King Daeron II's court of spectacle - of knights, feasts and whispered rivalries, Rhaella and Aerion circled each other like flame to tinder. Nothing was tender. Everything was peril. And some fires, once ignited, could never be tamed.

Born a year after the Realm's Delight, Prince Aerion Targaryen was never meant to inherit the Iron Throne. But the realm has always preferred sons. Cruel where his sister is calculating, merciless where she seeks legitimacy, Aerion grows beside Rhaenyra as her shadow and her sword a dragon hatched of the same fire, but forged in something darker. While lords whisper that he would make the stronger ruler, Aerion's loyalty belongs to one person alone. When the Dance of the Dragons begins, the realm will learn a terrible truth: Rhaenyra may want the crown. But her brother wants the world to burn for her.